In the Mix (20 page)

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

My pussy bell may or may not be on fire.

“Yes! Don’t stop, Kyle . . . just like that,” I encourage him. He stops.

Dafuq?

“Tell me! Who do you belong to? Are you mine? Is your pussy mine? Tell me, damn it!” he bites.

“Oh, please . . . don’t do this to me again. Don’t leave me hanging like this.” I beg again.

“One word and I take this ache away.”

I lie here, silently fighting off tears of frustration. Just as my climax loses its build, he starts up again. He works me up into another frenzy. This time, I take notice how adjusted I’ve become to his finger’s intrusion and am now grinding to meet its thrust.

“Feel good, Ceese?” he murmurs against my raging lady hotness.

“Yes. Kyle.” I pant.

“I’ll make you feel like this every day. Just one word.”

“Please . . .” I trail off.

“Wrong word,” he states and works me up again. My pussy fucks the hell out of his face.

“Oh . . .” I arch my back. He stops.

Motherfucker!

“Say it!” His hands slap the inside of my thighs, making me buck into the air.
Just say it, CiCi, just say it!

“No,” I groan.

“Wrong answer. Just so you know, I fucking love the taste of your pussy and I have no problem—whatsoever—keeping up with these charades until I hear what I want to hear, you understand me?” he asks before starting at me again.

I quit.

“Say it!” He pulls away again.

“Please, Kyle.” I sit up slightly, cupping his face in my hands; I pull him up to me. “I need you inside of me. Take what’s yours,” I say, not hiding how vulnerable I feel.

“Say it again,” he breathes into my face, the scent of my urgency thick in the air.

“The scent of my pussy on your face is sexy as fuck,” I say before attacking his lips.

“Who’s pussy?” He breaks away.

“Yours. All yours.” I bring him back for another kiss. After a beat, he pulls away again and leans back on his knees. He grabs his jeans and pulls a condom out of the pocket.

“Back up on the bed,” he orders as he tears the packet open. I watch as he sheathes himself. “Now.” He reiterates. I slide back as he climbs onto the bed and above me. “This is going to be fast and rough. We should’ve been downstairs twenty minutes ago. Are you ok with that?”

I say nothing. I’m too busy thinking about how hot that fucking statement was.

“Hold your legs; I want to watch myself fucking you.” He brings my legs up and pushes them back. I grab a hold of them, looking down, waiting to watch myself.

Kyle guides his cock up and down my between my slick folds. “Always so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, Birkita?” he asks sweetly. I love that he calls me this. It’s different. He’s different.

“Ahh,” I gasp as he sinks himself inside of me.

“Fuck . . . you’re so tight,” he groans lowly. “You ok?”

“Yes.”

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“You gonna watch with me?” He smiles.

“I’m a visual fucker,” I remind him.

“Don’t drop your legs.” He leans down, kisses me, then leans back and watches as he slowly slides out of me.

Slam!

Oh God!

He’s off! I watch as his cock slips in and out of me over and over again at a fast pace. God, it’s such a turn on. Kyle pushes my legs back harder, raising my pelvis in the air. Fuck, it’s so full this way. I close my eyes for a minute and listen to his balls slapping against my ass. I love the sounds of sex. I love the tingling I feel in my ass as it gets slapped. I open my eyes again to find his searching mine.

“Harder,” I order and look down again. He shifts a little, then pounds into me, relentlessly. I let out a scream that gets stifled by his hand.

“Fuck, look at how your pussy’s taking it, Ceese.”

Kyle’s a visual fucker, too.

Kyle also tends to lose his Boy Scout image in the bedroom.

I’m a fan.

Suddenly, he slows down to an agonizing pace. We watch him fill me . . . pull out . . . fill me . . . it reminds me of a bow sliding across the strings of a violin. I bring my attention to his face as he watches us. Something clicks inside me. I don’t know how to explain it but all of the sudden I’m feeling things and shit. I don’t like it. I feel like I’ve lost more control over myself. Possibly sensing my watching him, he looks up and locks eyes with me. He removes his hand from my mouth and releases my other leg, letting it fall around his waist as he positions himself on top of me. He hooks my leg with his arm to shift me a little, thrusting into me at full capacity.

“Gah!” I gasp, reaching down to grasp his ass and help him. His mouth attacks mine and I can feel the slow, sweet climb. “Please let me come,” I beg against his lips.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he grunts. I can tell he’s ready to explode himself. His finger finds my clit and rubs it in a slow, circular motion.

Oh, hell yes!

“That’s it. Right there.” I dig my nails into him and clench, encouraging his release.

“C’mon, Ceese. Come for me,” he demands. My mouth opens in a silent scream. My legs begin to shake.

Kyle definitely gives good leg shake.

He scrunches up his face and breathes those gusty breaths, finally finding his release. I hold on, rocking with him. With one last thrust, he collapses on top of me.

“Please. Tell. Me. That there’s. A shower on the. Other side of one those. Doors.” I pant through. Kyle lifts his head and chuckles, looking me in the eyes. “We’re a hot, sweaty mess,” I add.

“We are hot, aren’t we?” He kisses me.

“Kyle?” I almost whine.

“Yes.” He kisses me again. “There’s a ¾ bathroom through that door. We need to be quick, though.” He reaches down and pulls out.

I whimper.

He smirks.

We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?

“C’mon.” He gets up, ties the condom to seal it, and holds his hand out for me. I take it and follow his lead into the tiny bathroom. I close the door while he starts the water.

“So,” I sigh as he turns to me. “You totally fingered my ass.”

“Yup.”

“How do you feel about that?” I widen my eyes at him and bite the inside of my cheek.

“It was good . . . in the end,” he replies straight-faced. He lets out a little breathy chuckle . . . probably something close to my whisper giggle . . . which I’m now doing. Grasping my hips, he leans into my ear, “Every part of your body is amazing to me. It’s softness, the curves, your scent; I’m looking forward to exploring it more and more.”

I’m looking forward to being explored.

And conquered . . . let’s not forget conquered.

“Ready to wash the evidence away?” He straightens himself out and backs up towards the shower. I nod and follow him. The way he’s eyeing me combined with the growth occurring down in the dirty south (I mean that in the best possible way), I’m getting a vision of my face being pressed up against that glass door . . . awkwardly, like . . . like . . .

You know.

CiCi and I race down the stairs. The party is in full swing and we’ve been MIA for probably an hour, give or take. I’m pretty sure a few eyebrows will be raised. I don’t really care, though. That was amazing. If I had my way, we’d spend the rest of the day in my old room, finding different ways to please each other.

I spin around before we get to the kitchen. This causes her to walk right into me. “What are you doing?” she laughs in a giddy fashion. I stare at her in awe. She seems so relaxed and happy . . . different. I thought she was beautiful before, but this takes the cake.

“I just wanted to do this.” I nudge her nose with mine before planting several kisses on her lips. She starts laughing when I become obnoxious with my pecks. She turns her head and I chuckle into her neck. I feel so high on life right now. “Alright, I’ll stop. I’m sorry . . . I’m just so happy.” I squeeze her to me.

“Most guys are after they get laid,” she says near my ear.

I jerk my head back. “No, Ceese. It’s not just that.”

“Sounds like your mom might need our help.” She avoids my eyes and points to the kitchen door. There’s a lot of banging going on in there.

“Let’s go.” I agree, deciding not to push this discussion with her further. I have to say though, that I’m pretty certain CiCi is not feeling the same things I am. It’s taking everything in me not to fall into a somber mood but, Jesus Christ, I feel like she just ripped the sunshine right out of my sky. I’m probably overreacting. I’m just going to shake this off.

“There you two are.” Mom smiles at us, pulling appetizers out of the oven.

“Sorry, Mom,” I offer, placing my arm around CiCi’s shoulders and squeezing her to me to kiss her temple.

“I’m so glad you kids talked things out,” she says and closes the oven.

“Yeah, I gave CiCi a mouthful.” I deadpan. Mom turns to the face the counter and CiCi elbows me in the ribs—hard. I look at her and she mouths
“jerk”
to me.

“You mean an earful, dear.” Mom looks over her shoulder. “Get me that plate there, please.” I grab the plate and hand it to her.

“What can I do, Winnie?” She heads over to the island. “Want me to pass these out?”

Mom turns around and I read her apron. “Mom! You can’t wear that!” The feeling of shock is an understatement. I’ve never seen my mom wear anything like this.

“You don’t like the apron I got your mom?”

I look over at CiCi then to my mom and back. “No! No, I don’t like it! That’s my mother for Christ’s sake! Why would you give her something like that?” I raise my voice.

“Kyle, honey, there’s no reason to get so upset.” Mom touches my arm.

“What’s going on in here?” Dad pops his head in.

I look over at him and point to my mother’s apron. “Dad, did you see this?”

“Yes. I damn near fell over laughing.” He walks into the kitchen. “True too, huh, Winnie?” He winks at her.

“Oh, Stu!” Mom laughs and slaps his chest. I turn my focus towards CiCi who is joining in their laughter. I shake my head at her and walk across the kitchen to the back door, slamming it as I leave.

No. I’m not overreacting!

Would you want your mom walking around, advertising that big cocks make her oven hot? I didn’t think so. That’s so like CiCi, isn’t it?! She just does whatever she feels like; no thought of consequences involved. And that’s exactly why—

I stop dead in my tracks.

That’s exactly why . . . I like her.

Shit. I hope I didn’t just royally fuck up. I head back to the house, but not before noticing CiCi’s car. I chuckle as I read the bumper sticker on the back
“I get a
on for groomed pussies!”
this, of course, has cats lining the bottom of the sticker along with Bark Avenue’s symbol in case anyone got the wrong idea. I look at her backseat and notice a duffle bag with clothes coming out. Man, I bet she’s still having water issues at her house. I hate the idea of her living out of suitcases. Maybe she’ll stay with me until it gets fixed. Too fast? Nah . . .

I stop as I come around to the back of the house. The windows are open and I can hear CiCi and my mom talking as clear as day. I lean up against the siding and try to avoid being seen.

“It’s tough, seeing them get older. It kills me that I can’t take this away from my mom. I don’t know how I’m going to survive, as selfish as that seems, watching her suffer through this again,” CiCi’s voice shakes.

“I understand. I had a terrible time of it when my mom was dying from cancer.”

“I don’t want my mom to die. I don’t want to see her go through all of this pain only to leave the life she’s not ready to give up yet.” CiCi chokes and it takes every fiber of my being not to run in there and pull her into my arms like that will save the day. I’ve only known CiCi for a few months and
only
what she lets me know. However, what I get from others is that this, right here, is not something she does very often. I think she needs to purge some of these burdens she’s been facing and if my mother is the one she finally feels comfortable enough to do that with well, then, so be it.