by Rie Warren
While Honoré blushed again, I complained, “Aw hell, are you calling me fat too?”
My comment brought more laughter, and I watched beneath lowered lids as Honoré tucked in beside me. She swirled her fork around her plate, taking small nibbles now and then. I reckoned she usually had a better appetite, and I was probably distracting her from eating.
“Can I get you a beer?” MJ asked me.
“Sure.”
“I’ll get it.” Honoré started to shove her chair back, and I got the feeling she was looking for a way to escape from me.
“No need, honey. I’ll grab one for you too.” Momma Joan had matchmaker written all over her as she left the dining room . . . left the two of us alone.
When she returned, I clinked my bottle against Honoré’s, but turned my attention to MJ. I hoped to put Honoré at ease, at least so she’d be able to finish her lunch.
Between giant bites of the Mexican food, I found out Joan was a pediatric nurse.
“It’s good having flexible shifts so I can help Honoré out with—” she halted suddenly. Then she bleated, “Ow!”
I peered between the two women—Honoré’s lips folded together, Momma Joan frowned.
Something was going on there I didn’t understand, but I guessed it wasn’t my place to pry. Not just yet.
I mean, I still had to win Honoré over, and I suspected I could only do that with Joan’s help.
“So, how many instruments do you play?” I asked the beautiful woman beside me.
“Hmm?” She toyed with her fork, her eyes not meeting mine.
What is she staring at now?
I gripped my beer bottle, and she inhaled choppily as she bit down on her bottom lip.
She was staring at my hands?
Oh . . . my fingers. In the flash of a second, I knew she wanted me to use my large fingers to spread her cunt, fill her wetness, fuck up into her.
Goddamn.
With a quick flickering glance at her tits, I could tell her nipples were hard.
Holy shit.
My ice queen was so horny for me she could barely make small talk.
I abruptly shoved my chair back.
Her eyes danced guiltily away.
“Just need to hit the head,” I mentioned.
“Oh yes. Down the hall and to the right.” Momma Joan waved in the general direction.
I didn’t need a slash. That was just an excuse.
I’d give Honoré thirty seconds to come after me.
Once in the bathroom, no matter how much I wanted to, I didn’t snoop in the medicine cabinet or nose around the other shelves. I simply leaned against the sink while I waited.
Sure enough, moments later, there was a soft tap from outside, and I knew it was her.
I cracked open the door just enough to see her. “I can aim all by myself, baby.”
Her face flamed brightly, and she stomped her foot. “That’s not why I’m standing here, and you damn well know it.”
For someone basically begging for a fuck, she sure had plenty of attitude.
I hauled her inside and locked the door before pushing her against the wall.
My bigger body pressing against hers, I dipped my knees so my hardened cock hit her at just the right spot.
Honoré’s arms twined around my neck as I searched for the sensitive spot at the hollow of her collarbone. Nibbling and sucking her sweet flesh, I grasped her round ass to tug her tighter against me.
Rocking and grinding into her soft heat, I felt blood rush to my already rigid cock.
“Oh god. Oh yes.” She moaned against my ear.
“If you like that, you’re gonna love this a whole lot more,” I whispered harshly.
Rising up, I captured her lips. Devouring her mouth, I groaned when she whimpered against my hungry lips before her tongue roamed inside to slick all around.
Goddamn.
My hands stole up inside her top, and I finally had a feel of her bare breasts. I bet her nipples were tight tiny little things capping the soft mounds of flesh.
Gasping, she broke the kiss. And I watched the way her eyelids flickered, her heavy breaths driving her tits even harder against my palms.
With her lips wet and swollen, Honoré was fucking divine.
And I was aching.
I pulled one of her hands down, planting her palm against my straining meat—the hard bulge in my jeans pulsing with blood.
Her eyes flashed open as her fingers folded around my cock as much as possible, and she whispered on an indrawn breath, “Oh my lord.”
“You’re gonna get all that cock in you . . . soon.” I kissed along her neck, still cupping her tits.
“Please, Saint.”
Removing my hands from beneath her top, I spun her around and hoisted her onto the edge of the sink.
“Please what? You’re not getting it until you ask for what you want.”
She vibrated in front of me, all pink and flushed. “I need to come.”
A dark grin tipped across my lips, and I popped the button on her shorts. As I tugged down the zipper, she leaned back on her hands, head almost resting against the mirror.
With her thighs spread, I stepped between them. Another dip of my knees, and I thrust my throbbing cock against her pussy.
She arched even more, biting her lip.
Then my fingers skimmed inside the lacy band of her pink panties peeking out from her undone shorts.
I leaned over her as my fingers brushed a tantalizing strip of soft hair before landing on plump feverish flesh. “Fuck. Baby, you’re so juicy.”
Her hands cruised to my biceps, nails digging in.
When I slipped one digit through her soft swollen folds, riding the wet seam of her lips, my chunky ring bumped against her clit.
She jumped, moaning.
I chuckled, nearly groaning. “Bet you like those rings now.” Rubbing her engorged button with the pad of my finger, I whispered wickedly near her ear, “You’re gonna love my goatee all over your wet pussy even more.”
Her hips canted up, and I slipped a finger deep into the velvet pocket of her cunt. Then I drew my soaked finger all the way up her gash to her trembling clit. I slid my hand out from under her panties, and she moaned in frustration.
I watched her until her eyelids opened.
Mussed up blonde hair, dreamy diamond-blue irises, kiss-bitten lips . . . I wanted to jump her bones right then and there.
I stopped myself from going any further.
“That’s all you get for now, Honoré.” I licked the intoxicating flavor of her cunt from my shiny fingers.
She almost whined.
She was shaken and wobbly when she eased off the counter.
She clenched the front of my shirt and whispered, “You goddamn tease.”
“Trust me, I’ll be worth the wait.” With a wink, I pretended my dick wasn’t about to jizz all over my jeans. “Now let’s get you sorted out, or Momma Joan’s gonna know we been messing around in the powder room.”
Honoré actually giggled, probably at my use of powder room and the way I waggled my eyebrows.
Once we got her clothes back in order, she left the bathroom.
I waited a few moments longer before following her out.
Even though Honoré had fixed her top and shorts, and I’d made sure my shirt covered my groin, it was oh-so-obvious we’d been up to no good during our absence. Besides, Momma Joan was no fool.
Her glance jumped from Honoré who shoved her chair tightly against the table to me when I hid my smirk and took the seat next to the beautiful woman I’d just felt up in the bathroom.
Good thing I didn’t have any shame at all.
I hung out for a little while longer before I decided I should go.
I was so close to giving in and just getting Honoré on my cock, but a fast fuck wasn’t the only thing I wanted from her.
Giving Momma Joan a hug, I thanked her for having me over.
“Oh, sugar. You’re welcome an
ytime. I think Honoré agrees with me too.”
Yeah. She was right about that. Honoré still looked a little lusty and glazed over when MJ left us to say goodbye in private.
Drawing Honoré into my arms, I kissed her on the cheek before sliding my lips to her ear just to hear that sexy little whimper again.
“Can I get your number now?” I peered down at her.
She nodded in more dazed agreement.
After I put her number into my phone, I tipped up her chin and plucked a kiss from her succulent mouth.
“I’m picking you up next Saturday night,” I told her.
“Okay.”
My cock was so hard it was difficult to walk away, but I’d given Honoré a taste of what she was clearly craving, and now she knew I was more than happy to deliver.
Once on my Harley, I glanced back to see her still standing at the door.
Sure was nice to see the ice queen melt.
Chapter Six
HONORÉ
THAT SAINT . . . I DIDN’T know whether to throttle the man or throw myself at him.
He’d eaten a pleasant lunch with Momma Joan and me. In fact, he’d carried on conversation like nothing had transpired between the two of us in the kitchen while packing away a huge amount of food. Meanwhile, I’d hardly had any appetite at all.
I couldn’t stop glancing at his wide palms and the muscles knotted beneath the tats on his forearms. I couldn’t stop thinking about his deep green eyes or the way his lips parted over the tines of the fork.
I’d known he’d headed off to the bathroom as an excuse, just waiting for me to follow like a lust-addled fool.
Or a bitch in heat.
Good god, but the kisses he gave me . . . His lips seared right through me, and the soft bristles of his goatee tingled against my mouth. The way he’d palmed my breasts like he had every right made my blood rush hot. When he dipped his hand beneath my panties, my entire body jerked. The coolness of his rings against my overheated sex made my whole world spin. I’d coated his fingers in the wetness dripping from me, aching to orgasm when he’d pulled his touch away.
He’d gotten me all hot and bothered then left me hanging.
Left me standing on wobbly legs with cheeks aflame, and there was no mistaking what we’d gotten up to during our absence from the dining room.
Momma Joan only had to take one look to know he’d had his hands—his big strong hands—on me.
In me.
Directly afterward, he’d left, cool as could be and probably with my intimate smell still clinging to his fingers.
I wanted to get myself off.
I wanted to fantasize about Saint as I thrust my vibrator as far inside my pussy as it could go, knowing Saint would get even deeper. Part of me hated the macho vibe he threw off, but another part knew he had every right to strut around like he was all that. I’d felt the big hard length of his cock through his jeans, and he was hung.
I didn’t do any of that. I didn’t tip myself over. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Saint Baptiste. I stayed on that threshold of arousal which zinged through me, because I only wanted him to sate my suddenly unearthed needs.
Our next date made, he left me to face Momma Joan alone.
She had a grand old time as we cleaned up from lunch . . .
“Did he run out of toilet paper when he was hitting the head?” she asked all wide-eyed and holding in a grin.
I didn’t answer, rinsing more dishes off in the sink.
“I’m just gonna take your silence for confirmation of the fact your Saint is very talented.”
“Joan!”
“What?” She held up her hands. “I cain’t imagine a man like that wouldn’t know exactly what to do to loosen up a woman as tightly laced as you. Is he as big as I think?”
I paused over the dishes, the sensation of his hard heat against my hand washing over me again.
“I knew it!” she crowed.
In the next instant, I yanked out the sink sprayer and flashed water all over the nosy woman.
She sputtered for all of about a second before snagging a half full cup and flinging water at my face.
“Momma! Grandma!” Caleb’s shout halted our water fight.
Then we turned on him, and he ran pell-mell out the backdoor, squealing all the way. Chasing after him, Joan and I came up short when he lifted his Super Soaker 5000. I hit the yard hose. Joan grabbed a bucket.
In the end, the three of us were a sodden silly mess in the backyard with the kitchen in worse shape than before.
Laying in the grass, Caleb propped up on his elbows. “You two gone crazy while I was at Davis’s!”
Joan pulled a funny face, and I attacked him with tickles. As afternoon turned to evening, we weren’t only drenched, we were covered in grass stains and breathless from laughing, and that Sunday was one of the best days I could remember in a long time.
****
With my number in his phone, Saint took to texting me throughout the week. He didn’t do it so often as to be stalkerish, but enough to keep me surprised and surprisingly entertained. It was ridiculous how excited I got whenever I saw a message pop up.
So this walking suit type schmuck came into Tit for Tat today & asked me what time the titty show started, Saint texted.
I replied:
Probably should’ve thought about that before naming the parlor what y’all did
He sent back:
Hey, draws in the assholes but sometimes they even man up for some ink instead of heading out to find more spank bank material
Feeling feisty, I texted:
And what’s in your spank bank?
There was a bit of hangtime before he hit back with:
Ur shameless, woman. Just trying to get into my pants aren’t u?
I chuckled. He was one hundred percent right.
Midweek, I saw another message from Saint while I took a break from packing up after a pretty lucrative cocktail party.
Z’up? was all he sent.
I let him wait all of five minutes before answering:
Finished a set. Done work for the night
Saint came back with:
Been thinking ’bout you all day
My heart climbed to my throat, but all I texted was:
Just today?
He replied:
Not sure I should answer that one
Heat spread to my belly and lower. After a moment, I typed out:
So . . . about that spank bank of yours?
He sent back:
Baby, I’d rather show you what you do to me
Biting my lip, I tried to stop trembling all over. Then I texted:
I can’t wait
Friday, the day before our date, he sent another message:
You got a dress or something to wear tomorrow night?
I frowned at my phone before tapping back:
There’s a dress code for your dick?
Warmth spooling low in my body, I waited for his response.
He called me moments later, and his guttural tone weakened my knees.
“Baby, if I just wanted to get you on my dick, I’d have fucked you against the wall last Sunday. And you definitely would’ve been screaming the house down.”
Whimper.
His voice lowered even more. “Are you gonna do what I asked?”
I wanted to argue. He was being dominating, and I certainly hadn’t been into that type of male attitude since my ex. But Saint wasn’t Reggie, and his brand of unapologetic masculinity wasn’t threatening. It was hot to be honest.
“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow night,” I said sultrily, just to let him know he wouldn’t be controlling me even if I was very interested.
He laughed, and even his chuckle sounded dirty. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
He made me feel wanted. Flirty and playful.
Saint gave me a rush, and I couldn’t wait to feel him all over me.
Saturday, however, was not fun or play
ful in any way, shape, or form. Reggie turned up midday for one of his very few chances every month to see Caleb.
I’d been a nervous wreck all morning but tried to hide my misgivings from Caleb.
It usually wasn’t pretty when his dad came around.
As soon as I heard his motorcycle outside, I met Joan’s worried eyes.
We were never sure what state Reggie would show up in.
In unspoken agreement, she ushered Caleb—with his box of Star Wars LEGOs—to the back of the house. “C’mon, little man. Grandma made some chocolate chip cookies last night—”
“Last night?” His voice pitched up as he trotted after her. “Grandma, you been hidin’ the cookies?”
My smile fled as soon as I met Reggie at the screen door that I made sure to keep locked between us.
The flimsy screen wouldn’t hold for long if he didn’t like what I had to say, I knew that for a fact. The number of times he’d put his boot through a door or his fist through a wall . . . The countless times he’d beaten men up right in front of me . . .
Reggie had never hit me with more than insults, verbal abuse I’d carried inside myself during the time I’d stayed with him and for so very long afterward. That I was nothing, that I’d spread my legs for anyone if he didn’t keep an eye on me because I was just some roadhummer slut. That my music was snobby shit nobody would want to listen to, and I was wasting my time.
I’d been practically virginal when I met him. One day he’d just turned up on his motorcycle on the corner where I busked to make spare change. He was good looking, older, wilder certainly than any boy I’d ever dated, and I’d been disgustingly enamored by how utterly different he was.
Having been raised with talent, talent, talent drilled into my brain by my parents so I barely even had time to hang out with my girlfriends, I’d blindly gone with the man who’d been so completely outside my usual box of boyfriend material.
I’d only smartened up when I found out I was pregnant. I’d only gotten a clue about how truly toxic Reggie was when he bragged about our kid and how he was going to turn the bastard into a true outlaw biker legend as soon as he could walk and talk. No sissy shit for our offspring, and I better keep my fucking mouth shut when it came to our child’s upbringing.
