by Lane Hart
Then, she slowly lowers herself to her knees between my spread legs, her fingers wasting no time reaching up to undo the button on my khakis.
“What are you doing?” I ask, scooting a little lower in the chair when my zipper goes down because I have a very good idea. I’m torn between wanting to shove my cock down her throat and getting up to leave. I’m not sure if I will actually survive shoving my cock down her throat.
“Thanking you one last time before you go,” she says, tugging my open pants down my thighs just enough to free my hard cock that pops up and slaps my stomach.
“You don’t owe me any fucking favors,” I tell her through clenched teeth as she wraps her hand around my shaft and guides it toward her lips.
My head is telling me to stop her, to get the hell out of the house and on the ferry before I ever feel her mouth on my cock. But since most of the blood in my body is currently in my cock, it wins the argument. I hold my breath as I watch Cora’s lips part wide enough to cover my crown. Her lips close, and then all hope of leaving today is lost because nothing has ever felt as good as her wet tongue lashing over my slit. And once her mouth suddenly starts applying suction, I swear she sucks my black soul right out of my body.
It takes less than a minute before I become nothing but an empty shell of a man who now belongs to the goddess worshipping me on her knees.
Chapter Seventeen
Cora
* * *
Sam said he was leaving, but I don’t believe him. He was too relaxed, in too good of a mood this morning to just walk out. And since I was paying more attention to the part of my body he was staring at today, I realized exactly what he wanted but wouldn’t ask for.
There’s an old saying that claims the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Since I’m hedging all my bets, I decide to attack from two angles – his stomach and his cock.
At first, when I put my mouth on his hard, velvety shaft, Sam goes so still that I’m not sure if he’s enjoying himself. But then he lets out a long, needy moan that has me instantly dripping wet, and I know I’ve got him. When he slides down a little further in the chair, I assume that’s him telling me wordlessly that he wants me to take more of him into my mouth. So I do. He’s so thick and long that I can only handle half of him before he hits the back of my throat. My reflexes make me gag, and that’s when he finally snaps.
“Fuck!” He screams the one word so loudly that birds actually take flight from the trees around the house. His head falls back, eyes squeezed tight as his right hand comes down to cup the back of my head, fingers tangling in my bun when he begins to push and pull, guiding my mouth on him. When I taste the first hint of his salty flavor, I glance up and watch as he grabs the high back of the chair with his left hand, knuckles turning white as if he’s trying to hold himself in check. He’s a man out of control, desperately chasing his release. And I love seeing it so much, knowing I’m the cause of it, that I hum in approval around his pistoning shaft while my empty pussy flutters, needing him to fill it.
Sam’s lips part with a groan that makes it sound like he’s in agony while his fingers in my hair force my head to move faster, taking him a little deeper each time, holding me there a little longer. His hips that can no longer stay still thrust upward, shoving him down my throat once then twice before his fingers tighten in my hair and I taste his hot, thick release on my tongue.
“Fuck, Cora. You suck me so damn good,” he grunts; and when I peek up at him, his dark eyes are hooded but watching me swallow his seed. Between panting breaths that correspond with his still pulsing cock, he says, “That’s it, baby. Take it all. Love your dirty mouth.”
Sam releases his grip on my hair and the back of the chair to bring both of his big hands to the sides of my face where he keeps guiding my mouth forward and back on his cock in slow, shallow thrusts before they both lower to my throat, fingers wrapping around it and applying the slightest hint of pressure. I surge forward to take as much of his shaft into my throat so he can feel himself in me, even though it makes me gag again.
“Jesus!” Sam shouts, his eyes rolling back in his head as he rubs the front of my neck up and down a few times before finally pushing me off of him. “What are you doing to me?” he asks.
My lips are damp and swollen, my knees are getting sore, and my jaw hurts, but it was worth it to see the blissed out look on Sam’s face, his slumped posture, looking like he feels as boneless as I did after he went down on me in the kitchen and then practically fucked me into a coma.
When he doesn’t move or say anything else, I get up and take the plates to the kitchen to give us both a minute to recover. I’m still throbbing between my legs, desperate for my own relief, but I’m not sure if Sam will up and leave or stay around to do something about it.
I drink a cool glass of water before I go back outside, finding Sam in the same position I left him in, his sated dick still jutting from his pants, slumped to the side like the rest of him. Good thing there are no close neighbors and plenty of trees or someone could’ve just gotten a nice show.
“Do, you, ah, do you need anything?” I ask.
Without sitting up, he reaches for my wrist and pulls me over until I’m sitting on his lap. That’s all it takes for his cock to jerk to life against my bottom. But his sex is instantly forgotten when he spreads my legs wide with both of his knees, then his hand grabs me possessively between my legs.
“I knew it. No panties,” he grumbles like that’s a bad thing when his fingers plunge inside, getting soaking wet before his fingertips start circling my clit.
“Oh god,” I moan as I melt against his chest.
“You’re this wet just from sucking my dick?” he asks, applying more pressure to that needy bundle of nerves, making me squirm on his lap.
“Yes.”
“Not surprised,” he says as his teeth nip at my ear lobe. “I think I could come just from licking your pussy.”
My eyes close as I start to chase my orgasm that’s getting closer and closer, barely noticing when Sam adjusts his hardening cock, rubbing it against the crease of my ass while his fingers continue teasing me. His lips and tongue are working magic on my ear and neck, reminding me once again that it’s unusual that they’ve never kissed my lips. Those thoughts are instantly pushed aside when Sam positions his blunt head to my puckered hole, making me freeze.
“Want me to stay another night?” he whispers against my ear.
“Yes,” I answer with a nod because I feel safe with him here. More than that, being with him is a thrill that I love. I never know what to expect with him, so it’s anything but boring, that’s for sure. I don’t want another amazing night with Sam. I want dozens of them. Hundreds. Maybe even thousands, even though I know that’s impossible.
“Give this to me, and I’ll give you what you want,” he promises, prodding me harder as his fingers have me spinning and moaning, willing to do anything for him.
And that’s how I find myself caving to his every want and need, falling down a very slippery rabbit hole.
Chapter Eighteen
Silas
* * *
“The space is only fourteen-hundred square feet, but it’s recently painted and located in the best area for attracting customers who will be visiting the other businesses in the shopping center,” the pretty blonde realtor rattles on as I stroll around the empty building, looking for any major structural or electrical problems. Leasing would be the safer option if the place falls apart; but for some reason, I’m considering buying it outright.
Screwing Cora is costing me a fucking fortune. Every night for the past week when I’ve laid down in the guest bedroom to make it clear we’re not in a relationship or anything else, I’ve sworn I would leave the island as soon as the sun came up, only to end up inside of her again the next morning after a homemade breakfast. I can’t get enough of her body or her ridiculously unhealthy cooking. What man could resist a sexy woman who is always feeding him his favorite food, loves giv
ing head, and will gladly let me fuck her any way I want after I get her off with my tongue? Sure, she’s usually a little clingy afterwards. But letting her fall asleep in my arms for a few minutes before I hop up and leave is a small price to pay for the amazing bareback fucking.
Although, if I do end up buying this goddamn building, that price is suddenly much greater.
Still, giving her this, her dream, seems the least I can do before I finally do make myself leave her to fend for herself here. I have no doubt that Malcolm has probably been blowing up my phone, which I left back in the car at the marina. Since it’s our fault Cora had to up and leave her life, it just seems like the decent thing to do is make sure she’s set for life. I could never help Anita have her dream, but I can give Cora hers.
When the fuck did I start doing the decent thing? Pretending to be a good guy must be wearing off on me. Or maybe it’s just all the hot sex under false pretenses that’s making me generous. At least I haven’t killed her. The threat I could eventually snap and hurt her is real, likely growing exponentially with each minute I stay here.
“So? What do you think? Is it too small?” the realtor comes up behind me and asks as I stare at the back wall. “This was a clothing store before. What sort of business venture did you have in mind for the space?”
“A restaurant,” I admit.
“Oh, well, it may seem like a big investment now, but you can never have enough places to eat on the island. There are plenty of tourists in the spring, summer and fall to bring in the revenue to sustain you through winter.”
“I want to get an inspection and an appraisal, then I’ll put in an offer to purchase with cash.”
“Cash?” she repeats, her eyes widening in surprise. “You mean you want to buy it, not lease it?”
“That’s right,” I reply. “Sooner rather than later. How soon can you get it inspected and appraised?”
“Ah, well, I know some great people on the mainland. I’m sure I could get them to expedite their services for an additional fee.”
“And if they come back with good reports, you think we could close by the end of the week?” I ask.
“This week?” she asks.
“Yeah, this week. I can’t stay much longer.”
“Oh, well, let me talk to the seller, tell them you’re very interested in purchasing, and see if we can speed things up for you.”
“It has to be the end of the week,” I reiterate mostly to myself. That’ll be two goddamn weeks that I’ve been here, fucking around, when I need to stop pretending I’m the nice guy and get back to the Dirty Aces.
“I’ll move heaven and hell to make it happen,” the realtor agrees, no doubt already dreaming of ways to spend the commission.
I follow her outside to our side by side golf carts, imagining how excited Cora will be when she finds out she can have her own restaurant, to cook comfort food that makes people happy, or so she says. I guess it must work, because while I’ve probably put on ten pounds from the indulgences, I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever been happier. Even though I’m certain it’s just the endorphins from her getting me off three or four times a day and filling my stomach, I still find myself wanting to make her happy too, to repay her for the sex. As long as it’s nothing but a transaction in my head, an exchange of her body for money, or in this case property on an expensive island, whether she knows it or not, then there is no chance of me catching feelings for her. I’d rather catch herpes.
And since I’m planning on being inside of her a dozen or so more rough and dirty times before I leave, I catch the realtor before she drives off.
“Hey!” I call out as she backs her golf cart out of the parking space.
“Yes?” she asks, her face falling like she thinks I’ve changed my mind.
“I want to buy that rental house too.”
“Oh,” she says, eyebrows climbing up to her hairline in surprise. “But it’s not for sale.”
“Find out how much it would take to change the owner’s mind,” I tell her. “I’ll come by your office later for an update.”
“Sure thing,” she says with a smile, already counting the dollars of her unforeseen windfall.
Cora loves the house, and the rent’s not cheap. Even though I paid it up for a year, she’ll have to come up with the money eventually. And it takes a while for new businesses to get off the ground and start earning. I don’t want her to have to stress about making rent or become homeless.
She can’t return to the mainland or Carolina Beach ever again. So I’ll make sure she doesn’t have any reason to leave this paradise.
Chapter Nineteen
Cora
* * *
Sam has been in and out of the house, doing who knows what for the past few days while I’m stuck inside with nothing to do but cook out of boredom. Whenever he comes back, I try to ask him where he’s been. He immediately shuts me up by bending me over the closest object, eating my pussy like a starving man, and then fucking me until I can’t move or speak for hours. Rinse and then repeat the cycle, at least one more time before he tucks me into bed at night, and that’s how my time passes each and every day for almost two weeks.
Two amazing weeks.
Although, despite all the time his tongue spends between my legs, he still hasn’t kissed my mouth. And we never have sex face-to-face. Ever. And I sort of do miss the intimacy of missionary, staring into each other’s eyes while kissing as our bodies join as one. Still, the sex is amazing, so I can’t really complain.
Honestly, I didn’t think Sam would stay for two extra days after the morning on the deck when I gave in and let him fuck me in a way I have never really enjoyed before. Turns out, Sam has a way of always making sex good for me, even if there’s occasionally a little pain involved. I enjoy the pleasure in the unknown, in how he becomes a completely different person, almost dangerous, when he’s fucking me like a crazed animal. Maybe it’s the forbidden element of it, knowing he’s breaking rules by fooling around with me, staying with me, instead of going back to his job on the mainland.
Either way, I’ve become a sex addicted recluse who rarely puts on clothes and never leaves the house, and that’s okay with me. In fact, Sam insisted that it was best that I not go out anywhere someone could see me until the news dies down.
Which is why I was so surprised Friday afternoon when he slaps my ass hard and says, “Get dressed, we’re going out,” after he made me come on his tongue and then emptied himself into me on top of the dining table. It was definitely not sanitary, but worth it since the second orgasm was so intense it made me go blind for several seconds.
“Huh?” I ask as I lay face down on the wood, continuing to hold on to either side of the table, figuring I misheard him. Guess I went temporarily blind and deaf.
Another loud slap lands on my other ass cheek; and rather than motivate me to move, it just makes me moan as my mound bumps into the edge of the table, making my empty pussy throb with more aftershocks.
“Mmm. Keep doing that,” I beg.
Sam’s warm palm cups my bottom and gives it a squeeze. “You like having your ass spanked?”
“Um-huh,” I mutter and am rewarded with another stinging slap, then another.
“Coming twice wasn’t enough for your greedy little cunt?” he asks.
“No.”
He shoves two fingers into my pussy and presses his thumb to my asshole, and then he’s raining slaps down on my bottom while fucking both of my holes.
I don’t even recognize the sounds escaping out of my mouth. It’s a mixture of crying, grunting, pleading, and slurring Sam’s name until my thighs tense up, and then my body is convulsing and clenching around his fingers and thumb so hard that the table underneath me moves several inches across the floor.
“God, that was good,” I whimper through pants as I start to come back down, limbs heavy and weak, so incredibly happy that I never want to move.
“Now will you go get dressed?” he asks. I can hear the hu
mor in his voice, even if I can’t imagine him smiling. He pulls his fingers free and then strokes them gently over my still stinging flesh.
“If I still have the ability to walk,” I remark.
“I’ll wait outside,” he says. “Otherwise, we’ll keep this up for hours.”
“True,” I agree as I hear the zipper on his pants go up before his footsteps retreat toward the door that opens and then closes.
It still takes me a few more minutes to recover before I’m able to finally push myself up and walk to the bedroom. Even though he’s waiting, I take a quick shower to wash the sweat and fluids away, then quickly throw on a yellow, strapless mini dress and heels, wanting to look nice since it’s my first time leaving the house since I got here two weeks ago. My ponytail that was tugged during sex is falling, so I redo it quickly before heading outside.
Sam looks so odd sitting behind the wheel of a golf cart. I doubt he’s the type of man who plays golf, and he’s so big and muscular that he barely fits.
“So, where are we going?” I ask him when I take a seat on the passenger side so close to him that our thighs are touching.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he says.
“Aren’t you worried someone could recognize me?” I ask as he takes off, going as fast as the cart can go down the winding, narrow paved road, maybe as high as twenty miles an hour.
“No one will be getting that close,” he says, which I assume means we’re not going into any stores.
But then he pulls up and parks in front of the strip mall. Several businesses are dark, signs turned to close, while a sporting goods store and pharmacy are still open.
“You in the market for a kayak?” I joke. “Or have you suddenly decided we should start using condoms?”
