“Suck it! Suck it hard!” She closed her lips tighter around me and moved a little faster, stroking me with one hand as she fed my cock into her hungry little mouth. I felt that familiar warm feeling building up inside me and I moved my hands to the back of her head, balled my fists in her hair and pulled her hard onto my dick. She’d obviously done this more than once before; she was quite the expert at managing her gag reflex as I thrust my hips at her, plunging my cock ever deeper into her.
“That’s it. Suck! Make me come!”
She groaned as my pierced head plunged in and out of her warm, wet mouth, then I felt it grow bigger, my balls tighten and I knew I was about to come. She must have sensed it too, and moved to pull away as she pumped my cock with her hand. As her lips left my head, I jerked and a stream of my hot jizz shot out across her cheek, her right eye and into her hair, followed by another.
I panted as I called out, “Fuck! Yes, suck it!” She tried to back away but I tightened my grip in her hair and pulled her mouth back onto my dick. “Suck it, baby. Lick and suck that fat cock.” Her mouth closed around me again and she whimpered as I continued to shoot streams of my hot come into her mouth. “There ya go,” I barked, as my orgasm subsided. “Now, lick it all up like a good girl.” She looked up at me with sultry eyes as she sucked the last drops of come from my dick.
She bobbed her head up to kiss me but I turned my head away. I waggled my finger at her, “Uh, uh, uh! You’ve got come on your cheek.” I took my little finger and pushed it down her cheek. “You missed a bit. Open wide”. She opened her mouth and I slid my finger in. When she’d sucked it clean, I said, “Okay, I have to go now. Get out.”
“What? You’re joking, right? What about m—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about you. Now, I said get out. You’ve had your fun and I’m okay now, thanks. I gotta be somewhere else.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Fitz! I thought we were going to have a nice time.”
“Well, I’ve had a nice time. Now I’ve told you twice and I won’t tell you again or things are going to get ugly. Get the fuck out of my car.”
And with that, she grabbed her blouse, opened the car door and stepped out, cussing me out as I drove off. She’s the one who said she wanted to give me the royal treatment; I just let her treat me like a king.
Chapter Two — Mollie
Pediatric nursing proved to be rough on the emotions—and my feet.
“Thanks for staying over today, Mollie. Go on home. Stacey is coming in soon and now that you've got everyone's vitals updated, I can handle it until then.”
“No problem. Glad to help. I'm checking out now.” I waved goodbye to Judith, the training nurse, and signed the sheet at the desk. I lingered by the last doorway on the left, pushed the door open quietly and peeked in. Five-year-old Simon was still awake, watching cartoons. His IV's were full and he’d actually eaten supper tonight. Simon was a cancer survivor in remission, but he hadn't been feeling well recently. His latest visit with us was precautionary and I hoped for the best. “Simon, I'm going home now but I'll be back in the morning, okay?”
He sat up on the bed and extended his arms to me, silently asking me for a hug. “It's going to be alright. Try to get some rest, but if you need something, press the button. Miss Judith is still here, if you need anything.” He nodded—actually, he rarely spoke, but he gave me a small, tired smile. Mollie, you cannot get attached to everyone. That had been my instructor's advice, but how could I not love all the kids? How do you pick and choose? How do you keep your heart from reaching out to the children you helped? Juggling the emotional part of this job had been far more difficult than acing my clinical exams.
I pulled the phone out of my purse and checked my messages. Natalie had texted me earlier, but I couldn’t respond. I messaged her back…
Hey, girl. Feet hurt but I'm ready to hang out with my bud. What's the plan?
I walked up to the next level in the parking garage, unlocked my BMW and slid behind the wheel. By the time I’d buckled up, she'd sent me a return message.
Shark Light Beach Club...pick me up at 7 for dinner then dancing?
I wrote back a K!
I jetted home, thankful that at least I’d miss the bumper-to-bumper traffic. “See, there's an advantage to working past five thirty,” I told my throbbing feet. I thought about what shoes I’d wear tonight and normally, I’d strap on heels whenever I went out. I’m only five feet three inches tall, but that might be out of the question for my sore little toes. I must upgrade my work shoes.
Five minutes later, I was home and pulled into the driveway, next to Dad’s car. I grabbed my bag and slid my cell phone in my pocket. I took a deep breath and hoped he wasn't in a foul mood as I followed the aroma of food to the kitchen where Dad was cooking something that smelled delicious. “Hey, Dad.”
He turned around; his apron was tied on neatly over his dress pants and button-down shirt. Dad liked to cook, even though we had a housekeeper who fussed about it. He didn't cook every meal—just when he felt stressed out. “Hi, Mollie. You hungry?”
“I'm starving, but I promised Natalie I'd grab a bite with her. How was your day?”
“I'm chopping garlic and onions,” he laughed wryly, “so it was that good. You guys plan on loading up your bodies with junk food?”
“Come on, Dad. Give me a break.”
He waved his hand as if to say he surrendered, but I didn't trust that at all. “You got home late tonight. I hope they’re compensating you for the extra time you're spending at that hospital,” he quizzed as he looked at me over the edge of his glasses.
Do not get in an argument with him right now!
“They’re taking care of me. Don’t worry, Dad. I’d better go take a shower.” I hugged his neck and left him sautéing his vegetables. That smells so good! I couldn't tell him the truth, that I’d volunteered to stay late and I wasn't getting paid extra since I’d officially been ‘off the clock.’
In under an hour, I’d showered up and even managed to dry and straighten my long hair. It was blonde, almost white blonde, and I sometimes left it wavy—but not tonight. I picked out a pair of silver flats and an outfit to match, a blousy tunic that had a fitted bodice and a pair of matching tights. I loved blue, I felt pretty in this particular shade of sky blue and my flats matched perfectly. I said goodbye to my dad and drove downtown to pick up Natalie from her trendy apartment. It was on the way to the beachfront club where we were headed and even if it hadn't been, I didn't mind picking her up. She was my best friend, and even though we were total opposites on some things, she’d proven her loyalty over the years.
Natalie looked like a million bucks, of course. She was an aspiring fashion designer who wore bold colors perfectly. Tonight, Nat sported her latest creation—a 1950s-inspired floral print dress with a lacy underskirt. As if she’d read my mind, she wore flats, too.
“Hey, beautiful!”
That was always her greeting to me and I returned the compliment. “Hi, gorgeous!” We spent the next few minutes chatting and laughing as I drove to our destination. The Shark Light was only ten minutes away, mostly beach highway, and I opted for valet parking when we arrived. We managed to find a table for two overlooking the dance floor, and ordered snacks and drinks, of course. Naturally, the conversation turned towards guys, relationships and sex. I had none of the above, but my friend was determined to solve that problem.
“So when was the last time you had sex, Mols? Last year? That can't be healthy.”
“I'm sure it is, actually. You know I don't do one-night stands, except that once, which I totally regret to this day. Who has time for a relationship, anyway?” I didn't add that I really missed being in one, I just didn't know how to get back into the game. Another round of Cosmos arrived, along with a cute, dark-haired guy who wanted to dance with Natalie.
“After I have my drink...I'll come find you, okay?” I knew this was her way of saying ‘No, thanks.’
“W
hy didn't you just tell him no?” I laughed over the bumping music.
“I don't know.” She swigged her Cosmo. “Because I like to have an ace in the hole?” We snickered together and one drink later, my busy day caught up with me. Neither one of us danced, although we were both asked several times.
“Must be gay!” said one dude that we’d both refused. I sniggered at him, but after that, I was ready to go.
“Can we go, Nat? I've got to work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I've got that meeting with Cassandra as well. I'm hoping I score that contract. Just think what that could mean? My name would be in the back of every shirt in here!” We walked out, and I could tell that Natalie had maybe had a little too much to drink—she was hitting on the valet. That was something she'd never do if she were sober.
“Woo hoo! Let's go!” She flipped the satellite radio until she found a cheesy Cyndi Lauper song, and then sang it at the top of her lungs. I sang along with her as we cruised down the highway and turned off the interstate to head home. The radio was blaring, and as we approached the off-ramp intersection, I saw the headlights of a car coming straight at us—and it didn’t look like it was going to stop. I slammed on the brakes and the car fishtailed across the asphalt. I screamed as I braced myself for the impact.
The car passed so close in front of us its air actually rocked us from side to side and I felt like I was going to vomit. It couldn’t have been more than a few inches away, but I was so relieved that it had missed.
“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Natalie!” I shrieked. My heart pounded in my chest, my throat tightened—I shook uncontrollably all over and just started sobbing. “You okay, Nat?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “You?”
I nodded, unable to stop the tears that flowed down my cheeks. I swallowed hard, “Nat, we almost died…” I looked up to see if the person who’d run the red light had stopped, and saw it reversing back to the opposite corner of the intersection. “Fuck! Do you think he’s coming to get us?”
“Asshole better not!”
A blond guy jumped out and ran over to us. “You guys alright? I’m so sorry.”
“What the fuck is your problem, dirt bag? You just ran a red light, you stupid twat!” Natalie undid her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. “You almost killed us! What the fuck, are you drunk?”
My tears really flowed now. I couldn't stop them and my hands were trembling. “Natalie, come on. Let’s go. We’re okay and no damage done.” But she was too busy on the phone already.
“There’s been an accident. You need to get the cops here fast. Yes, no, yes, no one’s hurt, but you better get the cops here. Some douche bag just ran a red light and nearly wiped us out,” she said as she glared at the driver of the other car. She slipped a piece of gum into her mouth, probably so they wouldn’t know she’d been drinking when they showed up, but the whole situation had sobered us both up.
“Hey, I’m really sorry. Are you girls alright?” The driver ignored my ranting friend and patted my arm. “Can you move? Is everything okay?” He leaned on the top of my door, his face level with mine. He had shoulder-length, unruly blonde hair and in the streetlight, what looked like vivid blue eyes.
“Nat, it’s okay. I’m okay,” I yelled out the passenger-side window before I turned to him.
“I'm okay,” I whispered, even though the tears continued to fall.
A siren screamed nearby and he asked once again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” His eyes searched mine and I nodded again. He patted the side of my car and went back to his, ignoring Natalie, who continued to barrage him with four-letter words. As soon as he’d sped away, a police car showed up with its lights flashing and a cop got out and walked over to us.
“You two okay? Did you see the other driver?” I don't know why, but for some reason, I told him that I hadn’t. Natalie burned me a look with her dark eyes, but she didn't leave me hanging. About a half-hour later, and after a answering a bunch of questions, we got a chance to catch our breath and we drove back home, very slowly. Both of us were still pretty shaken up and she finally asked, “Why didn’t you tell the cops the truth? Do you know that jackass who almost ran us off the road?”
“It was no big deal and—well, he looked like he didn’t need any more trouble, so I—I don’t know.”
“No, Mollie. He looked like he was spun. You should’ve turned him in.”
“Okay! The next time he tries to run me of the friggin’ road, I’ll tell them. It’s been a sucky day. Let’s just go home and go to bed. I’m really tired.”
Chapter Three — Jack
My heart was beating so hard, it felt like a fucking wild animal was pounding on my chest. I heard sirens wailing somewhere behind me, but that wasn’t anything new. I was more freaked out about how I’d almost lost it at the light and nearly hit that car. Fuck, I had to get my shit together. I could’ve hurt those two girls or worse, I could’ve killed ‘em. Even when I finally turned into the trailer park and into my driveway, I couldn’t stop sweating. The face of the blonde-headed girl flashed before me as I put my car in park, turned off the key and leaned against the seat. I closed my eyes, but it was no use. My frantic pulse wouldn’t let me relax. Breathe, man, breathe!
Fuck! I reached across to the passenger seat, grabbed the envelope stuffed with my prize money and got out of the car. The lights were on in the living room and I could hear the whine of classic country music, laughing and arguing. I knew exactly what had happened while I was out. Mom had managed to eat something and walked down to the liquor store, but not before inviting a stranger or two over for drinks.
Since they’d be in the front part of the trailer, I decided to slip into my back bedroom undetected. Once I got into to my room, I locked the door and slid the dresser in front of it. I was a grown man, and I shouldn’t have had to do it, but the practice had become a habit. I had to keep Mom’s unwanted stranger-friends out of my one and only sanctuary in this shithole I called home.
I tucked the envelope into my hiding place—an old, battered gym bag at the back of my closet stuffed with smelly trainers and sweaty towels. Over half the cash would be going on new parts. I'd been putting off fine-tuning the motor but, if I wanted to win the next race, I needed to get on it. I kept a few hundred dollars out and tucked them in my pocket. After Mom passed out and her company left, I’d put the money on her nightstand. If I’d given it to her now, she’d probably kill herself by drinking it up. I had enough problems of my own to deal with and I didn’t want her creating any more for me, especially on my dime.
I pulled a worn cigar box out from under my bed, opened the window and rolled a joint. Between the coke, adrenaline, and the party in the living room, I‘d be wide-awake for hours. I wasn't in the mood to party, even though I had plenty of opportunity to do so. My phone vibrated endlessly with party invitations and congratulations, and I finally turned it off. I didn’t know why, but hanging out with the dudes from the races just wasn’t my thing. And the girls? They were all sluts, trying to catch a man. A little blowjob here and there was all right, but I’d never hook up with any of them. I wanted a girl I could respect. Someone I could be proud of, if and when I ever got out of this shithole.
I fired up the joint, inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out the window. After a couple of hits, I tapped out the blunt and sat there, enjoying the feeling of calmness that washed over me. There were some makeshift drawings of modifications I wanted for the Chevy on my desk, and I figured now was as good a time as any to scout out some parts. It wasn’t like I was going to be sleeping anytime soon.
I powered up my laptop, opened a browser and searched for some of the parts I was going to need to get more speed out of the Camaro. I ignored the party in the living room; it sounded more like ‘drunken’ laughter and screaming, rather than ‘I need help’ screaming. I'd learned the subtle differences over my twenty years experience with Nellie Fitzgerald. As long as the cops didn't come, I stayed out of the way. She’d probably be get
ting fucked pretty soon anyway, which meant tomorrow might not be such a bad day.
After about an hour, I began to feel sleepy, so I tossed the roach into the cigar box and slid it back under the bed. Before signing off, I decided to check my inbox and was surprised to see I had an email from Stockton Racing. They were a legit racing organization that many professional drivers started out at; some even went on to race for NASCAR from there. I hadn't heard a thing from them in months and I thought I'd screwed up the test drive. I clicked on the message...
Dear Mr. Fitzgerald,
After carefully reviewing your racing portfolio and the impressive test-drive video you submitted to our review board, I would very much like to talk to you. As you know, Stockton represents racing superstars such as Teague Monroe and Jerry Patrick. We continue to look for promising young drivers to add to the Stockton family and I would like to talk to you about the upcoming qualifications for this fall's Easy Ryder Race. Please contact me at your earliest convenience to further discuss a potential relationship. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sylvia Donahue
Recruiting Officer, Stockton Racing
Whoa! I blinked at the screen. I was either still wasted or something cool had just happened. After reading it again, I paced around the room, thinking about the email. They liked my test drive. Fuck, I’d have sponsors and everything. Real tracks, real rules, real legit racing. Fuck! After all this time, they email now, when I'm never going to pass a drug test. Fuck! Fuck! Well, I’m making double what I’d make with them, anyway. I guess it's better this way. Still...what if I could race legit?
I sat down to reply to the email and just as my fingers were about to hit the keyboard, my common sense kicked in and I stopped. I knew better than to reply in the state I was in. I figured sleep would do me some good and the commotion in the living room had finally died down. Mom was probably passed out, so I lay on the bed and thought about what I would write. I wanted them to know I was interested, but not too eager. Stockton was the best small-time racing outfit in the country. If I could race for them, I had a chance to get out of this neighborhood and maybe do something worthwhile with my life.
Fueled Obsession 1 Page 2
