by S. C. Adams
Our sexting goes on into the night. I can’t wait for Saturday.
9
Noelle
Since our date two Fridays ago (we couldn’t make it till Saturday), Damon and I were in an almost constant state of lovemaking. Saturday was reserved entirely for sex in his bedroom. I would ride him so hard into the night, and he would fuck me so good. We were very comfortable with each other, and I was really beginning to trust him.
The next week came, and so did we. We were hooking up a lot, at least once a day. Sometimes we would meet before work and after. I only slept over at his place one time during the week, and it was because we were both intoxicated and having round after round of hot, drunk sex.
I’m more than happy to have sex with Damon and not really label anything. I feel like we’re both a little old to be calling each other “boyfriend and girlfriend,” and the less stress we put on our relationship, the better we both feel. I’m just going with it.
It’s Saturday again, and today we’re going to get together as planned. I was scheduled for a half-day morning shoot, but instead, it’s going to be another full day. To ease my stress, Damon offered to cook me dinner. I was being fickle with what I wanted, so I told him to surprise me.
Earlier, I texted him and warned him that we probably weren’t going to be able to have sex since I was due for my period. However, as the day goes on and the girls and I change from swimsuit to swimsuit, I realize I haven’t started my period…
It was supposed to start either the day before or now, and I don’t even feel the slightest bit faint or sore. In my experience, I have had moments when the tides were out of line, so to speak. Sometimes my period is off by a day or two, but I always get it.
I’m glad, in this case, that I’m not going through my time of the month.
“I can’t get enough of Damon’s dick,” I tell Sabrina privately. “I always want it in every part of me.”
“Wow, you sound like you’re addicted,” Sabrina laughs.
“I basically am,” I confess. “If you think I’m getting too clingy or obsessive with him, please tell me. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“Girl, I don’t think you can scare him off,” she says. “You two have been fucking for like two weeks straight! You two are dating, basically.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re not calling it anything.”
“I guess you’ll see if you two really like each other soon,” she says. “You’re on your period, right?”
“No, I’m a day late I guess,” I told her. She and I have been sharing the same cycle for years now.
She frowns. “That’s unusual. You and Damon have been using protection, right?”
Instinctively, I go to tell her yes. I would have been lying, though. And I’m not about to start lying to my best friend.
“Not every time,” I admit. “There were a few times when he’d be inside me and he’d pull out before he…”
“Right,” said Sabrina. “Well, I hope you’re not fucking preggers. With Damon Abrams’s child? The last thing you want is to be carrying a gang leader’s baby.”
I dress nicely for Damon and keep checking my reflection in the rearview mirror as I drive to his place, heading there as quickly as possible. I took more time than I should have to get ready. I just always want to look good for him.
I’m still not on my period, and I’m grateful for it. I’m eager to fill myself with dessert after our meal… I’ve been anticipating it all day.
I park my car, pausing to check myself again before turning the engine off and stepping out. I send Damon a quick “I’m here” text, expecting him to already be waiting for me by the door like usual.
This time, I have to knock on the door. When it finally opens, I’m aware of why I had to wait: the smell of dinner hits me like a tidal wave.
“Hi—whoa!” I say. “Something smells delicious.”
“Thank you,” Damon chuckles. “Been working hard on it, not gonna lie.”
I go in, expecting a long, passionate kiss to greet me. Instead, our kiss is quick so that he can return to the kitchen and complete our food preparations.
He made a broccoli, cheddar, and chicken casserole with dinner rolls and a salad. To say I’m feeling overwhelmed is an understatement. I’m always blown away whenever he makes dinner for me, especially on this scale. I’m not used to this level of caring and effort. I don’t want to potentially bruise his ego by complimenting his sweetness, so instead I beam at him while he finishes.
We eat together, savoring every bite of his delectable entrée. From time to time, he’s on his phone, which is unlike him whenever we share meals.
“Is everything okay?” I ask with curiosity.
“No,” he replies. “But it will be.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“In all honesty, no,” he says. “It’s not worth it. I’m enjoying this food… I love that I get to share it with you.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I say while loading another forkful of casserole.
“We’ve been dealing with some drama with a rival group,” Damon says. “I’ve been talking with Kace about it.”
“Do you know what you’re going to do?”
“That’s what I’ve been talking with Kace about. Weighing our options. Thinking about how to approach it.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
“Just sit there and be your beautiful self.”
“You think I look good tonight?”
“You look hot as fuck tonight,” Damon says with a new hunger in his eyes.
“Thank you.” I blush. “Do I look good enough to eat?”
“Honey, I’ll eat anything you want me to off your body,” he says suggestively.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say with a giggle. “Although, I do wonder what it would be like to lick chocolate sauce off your cock. Or maybe you’d prefer if I sucked whipped cream off the tip of your dick?”
He puts his silverware down. “I want all of that.”
We slide out from the kitchen table and stick to each other like magnets. I’m impressed we made it through dinner for as long as we did; I was imagining having his dick inside during the whole meal.
We kiss and fondle each other, slowly moving toward the bedroom and driving each other crazy. Our motors are running on full power, and the passion is already intense. The room feels like a hundred degrees.
We don’t even make it to the bedroom.
By the time we reach the living room, I’m already without bottoms. My wet pussy is dripping for him, eager for a ride. While I rip off his shirt and belt, he rubs my pussy up and down with skill.
“Fuck, baby,” I moan.
“You like that?” he whispers in my ear while moving his fingers deeper inside me.
“So much… Put your dick in me, Damon…”
We’re both fully nude, my hands running down his body while he fingers me with enough force to make me shiver. I have chills going up my spine, and my body surrenders to his touch.
His hands travel—as do his lips and his throbbing penis—caressing and ravishing my body like no other lover. I keep expecting to wake from my dream to discover that Damon and our undeniable flame are just merely figments of my active imagination.
But I am awake. I only become more awake the longer he has his way with me. I lie back on his couch, focusing on his warm lips as they plant kisses on my body from my belly button up to my lips, then spend considerable time with my neck.
As we kiss and cuddle, he subtly and smoothly maneuvers his dick into my wet hole, getting all of his length inside of me before he plunges hard with it, knocking the breath out of me.
He fucks me slowly, taking his time with each considerable thrust. There’s an aggressiveness that I’ve not felt or seen with him before… I can sense danger on the horizon, and I face it willingly.
He grabs on to my breasts, squeezing them and giving them affection. His hands move higher up, massagi
ng every bit of me that his fingers touch. He rubs my shoulders, converging to my neck…
I’ve never been choked before. I’ve wondered what it would feel like, but I was always scared to try. Damon is not afraid to try, and he is brave.
He hesitates before wrapping his hand all the way around my neck. Our eyes never break contact. His grip is gentle at first, somehow even delicate, and he uses my facial expressions to judge how tightly to squeeze.
It’s not just the feeling of his power that turns me on immensely. He rams his mighty rod perfectly against my G-spot. Our rhythm is so exquisite that it drives my body wild beyond measure. I can barely tell when one orgasm ends and another begins.
He eventually lets go of my throat, pulling his glistening meat from out of my vagina and using it as a paintbrush to smear my juices back on my own skin.
“You want it doggie-style, darling?” he says in my ear before nibbling it.
Without giving a vocal affirmation, I flip myself over on the couch, sticking my ass up in the air for him. He spanks it hard, causing me to moan.
“Keep spanking me…” I beg.
He gives me what I ask for and then some. He paddles my ass with such might that I can feel the red building in my cheeks. He bends me over just right and puts his dick back inside of me so he can fuck me from behind.
He continues to smack my ass while he fucks me. At certain points, he even puts a finger inside my ass. Each time is a surprise, and it almost always brings me to the edge of orgasm.
He alternates between cupping my breasts as they swing and pulling my hair. His hands often gravitate back toward my neck, but he always resists the urge… I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to choke me again, though.
I back up into him, and this seems to both surprise him and delight him immensely. This is too sexy for us both. I’m impressed with his stamina, and I’m perplexed as to why I haven’t collapsed from the sheer momentum of it all.
When he finally bursts, I can feel it all as it fills me up… He is warm, and he is mine.
Our passion burns into the night. At some point, while we rest in each other’s arms, he passes out. I stay in his arms—warm, caring, genuine—thinking about our many nights of passion before and to come.
At some point in the silence of the night, the thought that I still haven’t had my period yet returns. I’m not bleeding. There’s no blood on the bed or on Damon… I’m sure, knowing my luck, that I’m likely going to have it first thing in the morning. I’m looking forward to the prospect of waking to cramps and nausea.
Instead of spending the night again, I decide to take my leave, and I slowly slink out of bed. The only thing I regret is having to abandon his embrace.
I consider leaving a note, but I feel compelled to fib or outright lie. I think about telling him I’m leaving because I have a show to go to or work I have to do. Seeing as none of those excuses are true, I decide to flee in total silence. I just hope he won’t be upset or mad at me.
Maybe it’s more than just physical attraction that’s keeping me and Damon so richly bonded together.
10
Damon
I wake early on Sunday morning expecting to see Noelle. At first, I think maybe she’s hiding under the covers on her side. Upon closer inspection of the bed in my half-tired state, I realize that Noelle is gone. On the one hand, I am somewhat relieved that she’s left and spared me the pain of having to go through any hard talks with her about the road ahead of me…
On the other hand, I’m disappointed with myself for not simply telling her how I feel. Admittedly, even as I lie in bed recalling the events of the day and night before, I’m still not entirely sure about precisely how I feel about her. I care deeply about her, that much I know, and have known for a while.
I skip breakfast and a shower and go straight to the clubhouse, where the whole gang is gearing up to take action against Tom Wright and his Hell-Snakes. We have our weapons prepared, our supplies suitably packed, and our blood boiling.
Not only did Tom Wright lie to my face before, his boys were showing up more often around my part of town and even close to my shop. I take it not just as an insult, but a challenge. Tom doesn’t want me to come back to his place alone. He wants me to bring company so he’ll feel less guilty about trying to kill me.
We drive our bikes with purpose and grit. I look at all of my gang—my friends—and I know that I cannot fail them. I make a vow right then and there that I will not lose a single man to Tom Wright or his cronies. We are going to protect our territory, clear out the pests, and return to running the streets of Miami with an iron rule.
“We might need to remind Miami why we’re called the Rolling Heads,” I say to Kace at one point. “I’m tired of the blatant disrespect. Enough is enough.”
The roads are practically empty. Saturday night has yet to fully leave Miami, and the elderly are heading to church. The collective growls and roars that emit from our beasts as we bound forward are surely warning the Hell-Snakes. I can just see them waking from a drunken stupor to hear our bikes, ill-prepared for our arrival.
As we pulled in to the Hell-Snake clubhouse, we are all wary to discover that there are only three motorcycles in the parking lot. We were anticipating and expecting a nearly full house, so it’s jarring.
We park our bikes in their spots, dismounting with our weapons visible and within arm’s reach. I lead the group inside, ready for a fight…
However, there’s another surprise: there’s no one there, on the first floor anyway. I signal for Kace and two others to go inspect upstairs. The rest of us look around, quietly scanning curiously.
This isn’t right.
I try to envision a scenario when my entire gang would be vacated from our shop or clubhouse. It occurs to me that my clubhouse and shop are vacated at this very precise moment. I think to myself that it would have been ironic if they were all on their way to start a fight at our clubhouse.
I look up and see Kace coming back down the stairs.
“No one,” said Kace shaking his head.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I said irately. “Where the hell are they?”
Suddenly, over by the bar area, a fire erupts, the flames bursting up immediately due to all the liquor set on the shelves. Nearly a quarter of the place is ablaze, and we stare, transfixed, unsure of what or who did this.
“Everyone out!” I shout after snapping out of it. “Take the nearest exit!”
The fire is spreading so quickly that it’s overwhelming. The side exit near the stairs is locked, and a powerful flame is fast approaching. We all run for the main entrance.
Through the blaze, demons emerge and begin to fight. Gunfire zips through the fire, aiming to hit me and my crew. We aimlessly fire back, shooting our guns through the flames, hoping to hit one of those sons of bitches. It’s impossible to know for certain who’s attacking whom.
Zeke, my most recent recruit, falls to the ground beside Kace. I look and see that he’s taken a bullet to the shoulder. There is blood pouring from his wound, but I’m grateful that he will live.
Kace and I stand over Zeke while the others help pick him up and carry him out. The Rolling Heads continue exchanging gunfire with the Hell-Snakes. In the hellfire, I’m unable to discern the specific shooters’ identities, but it’s undoubtedly them. Specific names are irrelevant.
Once we’re all out, the attackers are nowhere to be found. The clubhouse burns fast, dismantling every bit of foundation that kept the building together. We stand by watching it crumble…
…until we’re all suddenly aware of something else—my bike has been completely obliterated. No one else’s has been touched.
“Scatter,” I order the group. “We all meet back at the clubhouse in two hours.”
Kace and I get to work fixing my bike right away. We go to his private garage right off the coast so that we can work on it in peace. I need a real distraction in order to keep me from hunting down and killing every Hell-Snake personally.
“Any word on Zeke?” I ask Kace.
“They’re stitching up his shoulder now,” he tells me. “Eddie also got some really bad burns; he’ll probably be out of commission for a while.”
“I can’t believe they burned down their own clubhouse,” I say in disbelief.
“We think that’s what happened,” says Kace. “I couldn’t tell jack shit of what was going on.”
“Who the hell else could have done it?”
“Could have been another enemy of theirs,” he suggests. “They’ve made a lot of enemies in the state.”
“Somehow, I doubt that two separate gangs just so happened to be heading to the Hell-Snake lounge on the same morning at the same time,” I say dismissively. “Besides, why was the place empty? They were waiting for us.”
“It could have been one of our guys that started the fire,” he says. “I only noticed the fire after it had been going a few seconds. Did you see who started it?”
“No,” I say. “I highly doubt we started the fire—why would no one admit to it?”
Kace shrugs before replying with “All I know is two of our guys were carrying Molotovs and were itching for a reason to use them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t think one of our guys really did it,” he says. “For the record. I’m just playing devil’s advocate. Why would Tom burn down his own place like that? It just doesn’t make sense. All his shit was still there. What, would he really go for the ‘burn the place down for the insurance’ scam?”
“I think that he saw an opportunity to kill off his entire rival gang here in Miami in one swift maneuver,” I say. “Unless I hear otherwise, it was them that started the fire. They were hoping we’d burn alive, and those that wouldn’t die inside would get shot trying to escape.”
“In the chaos, I couldn’t make heads or tails at all of what the fuck was going on,” he says. “I don’t think any of us were able to know for sure who exactly was shooting at us.”
