sucked Brede’s penis in broad daylight with witnesses. The old Blair would’ve never done such a thing, but the new Blair liked it. A lot. Sure, tears still stain my face, and my jaw is sore, but it was worth it to silence the voices in my head for a few minutes and watch Brede lose control. He was so aroused by what I did to him that he ejaculated into my mouth with other men watching like they thought what I was doing was hot. Little ole me who’s never touched a man before.
It only seemed fair to return the favor for Brede after he shoved his hand between my legs and made me see fireworks. I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was intense and…absolutely wonderful. Everything else in the world, the past, the worry about the future, all disappeared for those few amazing seconds. For once in my life, I actually felt something good, so good that I want him to touch me there again. To help me get rid of the burning pressure in my lower belly in that pleasurable way that left me exhausted and elated for the first time in my life.
Just the memory has the liquid heat boiling inside me again. I press that magical place between my legs against Brede’s hard back and tighten my thighs around him, trying to find some relief, but it’s not enough. Maybe he’ll take me to his house or mine and do that handy trick with his fingers again.
When we get back in town, he does, in fact, drive past my car that’s still sitting at the pawn shop.
“Where do you live?” he asks at the next intersection.
Shoot. I rest my forehead on his back, knowing it would be easier just to tell him, but I can’t say the words. With a heavy sigh, Brede guns the motorcycle through the four-way stop. Coming up on the street that leads to my neighborhood, I tap his left leg, then his right for the next road. For some reason, I feel the burning on my neck again, like we’re being watched or followed. As Brede slows down, I look over my shoulder but there’s not a car in sight on the empty road.
I let go of him when we reach my house. Or my father’s house. I haven’t lived in it for years.
Throwing my leg over, I step up onto the perfectly manicured yard, to see if he’s gonna follow me. Brede stares straight ahead, his dark glasses covering his eyes. He doesn’t make a move to turn off his bike or get off, causing my shoulders to slump in disappointment. He’s done with me, and it sort of sucks. I wanted more of the same from earlier, but I should’ve known better than to think a wild man like him would want to keep messing around with an inexperienced girl like me.
Reminded of my original plan now that we’re done, I wave a hand at him in thanks and goodbye that he may or may not have seen before I walk toward the front door without a backward glance. The worry that I don’t know how I’ll get my car tomorrow flitters through my head, but if I can find some bullets in the house, it won’t be a problem. Knowing I won’t see the dirty talking smoker again sort of makes me sad. He was different. Dangerous. Fun even.
And he made me feel alive and real for the first time ever.
I unlock the door and step inside the dark house, flipping on lights as I go. When I get to the kitchen, I sit my purse on the counter and pull out the plastic bag from the pawn shop, noticing right away that it’s much lighter. Empty actually. Digging around my purse, I try to find the gun that must have fallen out, but there’s no sign of it. That’s when it hits me.
Son of a bitch! He stole my gun!
Running back out to the yard, I see the fading red taillights before his engine revs and is out of sight. Bastard.
Tomorrow then. I’ll…I’ll what? Go back to the pawn shop and buy another gun? Track down Brede? Hard to do either without a car. A car that has the only pictures of my mother in it.
Fuck.
It’s nice just to think that word. So with a smile on my face, I lock the front door, even though after my late night prowler last night it
It only seemed fair to return the favor for Brede after he shoved his hand between my legs and made me see fireworks. I’ve never felt anything like that before. It was intense and…absolutely wonderful. Everything else in the world, the past, the worry about the future, all disappeared for those few amazing seconds. For once in my life, I actually felt something good, so good that I want him to touch me there again. To help me get rid of the burning pressure in my lower belly in that pleasurable way that left me exhausted and elated for the first time in my life.
Just the memory has the liquid heat boiling inside me again. I press that magical place between my legs against Brede’s hard back and tighten my thighs around him, trying to find some relief, but it’s not enough. Maybe he’ll take me to his house or mine and do that handy trick with his fingers again.
When we get back in town, he does, in fact, drive past my car that’s still sitting at the pawn shop.
“Where do you live?” he asks at the next intersection.
Shoot. I rest my forehead on his back, knowing it would be easier just to tell him, but I can’t say the words. With a heavy sigh, Brede guns the motorcycle through the four-way stop. Coming up on the street that leads to my neighborhood, I tap his left leg, then his right for the next road. For some reason, I feel the burning on my neck again, like we’re being watched or followed. As Brede slows down, I look over my shoulder but there’s not a car in sight on the empty road.
I let go of him when we reach my house. Or my father’s house. I haven’t lived in it for years.
Throwing my leg over, I step up onto the perfectly manicured yard, to see if he’s gonna follow me. Brede stares straight ahead, his dark glasses covering his eyes. He doesn’t make a move to turn off his bike or get off, causing my shoulders to slump in disappointment. He’s done with me, and it sort of sucks. I wanted more of the same from earlier, but I should’ve known better than to think a wild man like him would want to keep messing around with an inexperienced girl like me.
Reminded of my original plan now that we’re done, I wave a hand at him in thanks and goodbye that he may or may not have seen before I walk toward the front door without a backward glance. The worry that I don’t know how I’ll get my car tomorrow flitters through my head, but if I can find some bullets in the house, it won’t be a problem. Knowing I won’t see the dirty talking smoker again sort of makes me sad. He was different. Dangerous. Fun even.
And he made me feel alive and real for the first time ever.
I unlock the door and step inside the dark house, flipping on lights as I go. When I get to the kitchen, I sit my purse on the counter and pull out the plastic bag from the pawn shop, noticing right away that it’s much lighter. Empty actually. Digging around my purse, I try to find the gun that must have fallen out, but there’s no sign of it. That’s when it hits me.
Son of a bitch! He stole my gun!
Running back out to the yard, I see the fading red taillights before his engine revs and is out of sight. Bastard.
Tomorrow then. I’ll…I’ll what? Go back to the pawn shop and buy another gun? Track down Brede? Hard to do either without a car. A car that has the only pictures of my mother in it.
Fuck.
It’s nice just to think that word. So with a smile on my face, I lock the front door, even though after my late night prowler last night it
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