Tameless (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen – Wes

I spent Monday trying to keep busy at work, going from store to store, but I found my thoughts drifting away from work and more towards Dawn coming over tonight. Some of the thoughts were good—okay, great, and sex related—and some weren’t so good. I kept thinking of her lying to her parents about having seen me.

I didn’t care what they thought of me. My only concern was what would happen to her if they found out.

Dawn and I were both adults now and could make our own decisions, without anyone standing in our way, but I had no intention of being even a small part of driving a wedge between her family. That was a decision she was going to have to make.

My old roommate Brad called while I was in the car going from one store to another.

“Dude, I need your help.”

“What’s up?”

“I landed a gig this weekend. Bachelorette party, like thirty women or something. Fuckin’ crazy, right?”

I was at a stoplight so I was able to close my eyes while I shook my head. “No.”

“No what? It’s not a crazy good gig?”

“No,” I said again. “I’m not doing the show.”

“Come on. I need a third. Roberto already said yes. That makes two, and you’d make the perfect third. Two hours, thousand bucks, guaranteed. Where else are you going to make five-hundred an hour?”

“Not interested, Brad. Sorry.”

There was a pause for a moment before he said, “All right. If you change your mind, let me know. And, hey, you got a package in the mail here.”

“Shit, I forgot to change my mailing address. Who’s it from?”

I heard some rustling of papers and plastic bags. The countertop was always full of junk mail and grocery store bags. “Big envelope from UCLA.”

I’d been waiting on that. “I’ll come by and pick it up.”

“Good,” he said, “that’ll give me a chance to talk you into the gig.”

. . . . .

I picked up the envelope when I took a lunch break. Brad’s attempt to convince me to do the bachelorette party failed. Poor guy. He didn’t have a chance. I hadn’t given him a reason why I was quitting when I did, I just said I was done with it, so he didn’t know how serious I was about not doing it again. The money was good but six months in that lifestyle was enough for me.

Had I happened upon that line of work a few years ago, back when I was unable to resist the temptation of the money, drugs, and the readily available girls, I would have been in serious trouble. Now, though, I knew how to deal with impulsive decisions. The way I dealt with them: don’t make impulsive decisions. Simple.

At least until it came to Dawn. I couldn’t resist her. I had wanted her for so long, and the real thing was better than the images I’d created in fantasies years ago. I’d had a taste now, but it wasn’t enough.

Dawn was my new temptation.

And that’s exactly what I was thinking when she showed up Monday evening. She wore a light green dress with a black belt that cinched at the waist, showing off her perfectly curved hips. But what really caught my eye, and what I struggled not to stare at, was the way it hugged her tits.

The truth was, when I saw her, my lust surged to levels I hadn’t experienced since I was a hormone-fueled teenager. Only now I knew how to handle it like a man instead of a boy.

She walked through the door and immediately raised up on her tip-toes, throwing her arms around my neck. The scent of her hair and skin was intoxicating, sending raging bursts of energy through my body, right to my cock.

I wanted her right then and there.

We kissed. I lifted her up, our lips still locked, our tongues frantically swirling together.

I took a few steps to the kitchen, lifting her up and putting her on the counter, grabbing her leg and wrapping it around the backs of my thighs. “I don’t think I can get enough of you.”

She had her hand on the back of my head. She clenched a handful of hair in her hand, tightly, and pulled my face to hers.

She bit her lip and I thought I saw the hint of a blush taking over her face.

“I’ve wanted this all day,” I said, lifting her right leg and kissing her calf. She watched me with her mouth slightly open in a beautiful pout.

I lowered my head to kiss and lick and suck her inner thighs. She watched me, but hadn’t yet lost her ability to think straight, which was my ultimate goal—give her an orgasm like she’d never had.

I teased her through her panties with the tip of my tongue.

With one finger, I moved her panties to the side, my mouth finally on her already-wet flesh, kissing, sucking, licking.

My tongue fluttered along her slickness, changing it up every few seconds to long strokes. My fingers parted her, fully exposing her excited clit to me. Pink, shiny-slick.

Her hips rolled along as my tongue alternated between firm and flattened, making circular movements, her body making movements in the opposite direction, a perfect rhythm as she rode my tongue.

I loved listening to the noises she made—a mix of light whimpering and growling in her own pleasure, pleasure she was getting from me.

“Talk to me,” I said, my voice soft and somewhat muted.

“I can’t….”

Those were the only words that would come out of her mouth. Between the way her mouth was almost locked in an O-shape and her staggered breathing, it was a wonder she could say those two words at all.

Her hips bucked harder. I knew this point. It was when the body takes over and you lose control as it responds to such intense stimulation.

She was about to come.

“Come for me, Dawn. Come in my mouth.”

“Yes, yes...” She gripped a handful of my hair again.

She writhed along with my tongue strokes, the orgasm jolting through her. Her stomach muscles flexed, relaxed, repeated—I felt them with my hand flat on her stomach—and her body shook as she threw her head back and cried out my name.

Mission accomplished.

I lifted her off the counter and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I walked us to the couch. I sat down and Dawn slid off my lap, onto her knees on the floor.

She worked my belt loose, and looked me in the eye as her hands slid into my jeans, into my underwear, and her fingers wrapped around my hard cock.

“I haven’t done this very much,” she said.

I didn’t want to know anymore than that, didn’t want to have any reason to think of her doing this with another guy.

In my experience, girls who said that were worried they wouldn’t do it right. They were communicating some kind of warning like:
I don’t think I’m good at this.
All women do it differently. Some better than others. But there’s no such thing as a bad blowjob.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ve wanted you to do this for so long.”

And with that, she worked the zipper down and freed my cock.

She kept eye contact with me for the first few seconds, then lowered her gaze and she watched her hand as it moved back and forth along the length of my shaft.

I watched her hand, too, but mostly I watched her face as she played with me. Her lips were pressed tightly together, as if teasing me, making me wonder how long they’d stay so firmly closed.

I reached down and took my cock from her, gripping it at the base. My other hand went to the top of her head, and I guided her head closer to me with my fingertips on her scalp.

Those lips—pretty and pouty—weren’t opening for me yet, so I touched them with the head of my cock. I moved it back and forth across her mouth, painting her with the little bead of moisture that had formed at the tip when she was playing with me.

After a few moments like this, she looked up and her lips parted beautifully for me. Her tongue touched the tip of my cock as she held eye contact. Opening wider, she drew the head into her mouth, and I dropped my hand to my side. I felt the warmth close around me as she sucked a little, using her tongue to tease the very tip.

Her hand moved to the base of my cock, not stroking, but holding with just the right amount of pressure.

The visuals are always what push me over the edge. Yes, the physical pleasure is integral, but there’s nothing like the sight of a woman wrapping her lips around my cock and taking her time as she surrenders her mouth to me.

Which is exactly what Dawn was doing now—opening her mouth a little more, taking more of me, encasing my cock with the growing heat and wetness of her mouth.

I reached down and took her wrist, moving her hand away.

“Let me have the other one,” I said, and she raised her arm.

I brought her hands to my thighs, pinning them down.

“I like it when you just use your mouth,” I said.

She tried to murmur something, but I couldn’t tell what it was, nor did I care. I could tell it was something positive, maybe just a sound affirming what I told her.

Dawn was moving a little faster now, her plump lips sliding up and down my shaft. My cock glistened from the mixture of her spit and my pre-come.

Watching her move like that…Jesus, I could have stayed there all day.

I was intently focused on watching her lips slide slowly toward the tip, and she sucked hard, pulling back, freeing my cock with a wet
pop
sound.

Her hair fell in her face just then. I reached out with one hand, gathering as much of it as I could in my fist, then held it together.

“I need to see your gorgeous face as you do this,” I said.

She smiled that perfect smile of hers as she looked at my erection, and I couldn’t have handled one more second of not being in her mouth. I moved her head back to my cock, sliding between her lips once more. Holding onto her hair, I didn’t have to direct her movement. She swirled her tongue around the head, then took me back in with one swift motion.

Now she was moving faster than before, her head bobbing up and down. The friction of her lips sliding along my skin combined with her sucking…it was getting too intense to think. Though I did feel her teeth lightly graze across the swollen tip of my cock, which I didn’t mind and even encouraged on occasion.

Moments later, the visual got me. “I’m going to come,” I said.

I held off on telling her that I wanted to come in her mouth. I wanted to see what she would do on her own—pull away and use her hand or stay where she was and take my come in her mouth?

I let go of her hair. Luckily, it stayed out of her face, giving me a perfect view as she locked her lips around my cock as I came.

“Ah, Dawn, fuck…” I said as my stomach muscles clenched along with my thighs, as if being wound up for a big release.

Her eyes got big and she blinked rapidly a few times, closing them as I came more.

When it was clear that I had finished, she licked me clean, tucked me back into my pants, zipped me up, and said, “I know you don’t want to kiss me right—”

I reached for the back of her head, pulling her close to me, kissing her deeply.

Chapter Fifteen – Dawn

The private room dance with Wes—even though I didn’t know it was him at the time—was the single most erotic and thrilling experience of my life. Until tonight.

He had taken me by surprise when he made me sit on the counter. He’d given me an orgasm intense enough to make me wonder if that was the upper limit of pure ecstasy. I mean, there has to be a limit, right? Sexual pleasure can’t be so open-ended that it gets better and better each time. With Wes, I wasn’t so sure there was a maximum. There was something about him that made me think there was more to come. (Pun strongly intended.)

I’d gotten off my knees and lay on top of him on the couch. We were silent for a few short moments until he said, “Hungry?”

I shrugged. “A little.”

“Want to go out or order in?”

I wanted to stay confined in the walls of his apartment, just the two of us, the rest of the world shut out entirely. “Order in.”

“Okay, but right now I’m not moving.”

I kissed his chin. “Good.” I put my head on his chest and listened to the steady pounding of his heart. It was slow and even, a soothing sound that almost made me want to drift off.

“You should stay.” I heard the words come out of his mouth but also felt them vibrate from within his chest, making them have an even more intense impact on me. God, yes, I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay the night, the week, the month…

“I wish I could,” I said.

“You should do what you want. Not what your parents want.”

I paused for a few seconds. “I just don’t want to deal with their questions. You know how they can be.”

He let out what seemed like a bitter chuckle. “No shit.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know what you meant. But…did you ever spend the night at Scott’s?”

The question stung. The short answer was yes, and the longer answer was that my parents didn’t mind because of who it was. Scott. The golden-boyfriend in their eyes.

“Sometimes, yeah, I did. I haven’t even told them that Scott and I broke up.”

“When are you going to do that?”

I shrugged.

Fuck. It was infuriating being twenty-five and still feeling like I was a teenage girl with heavy restrictions on her social life.

“The first step,” I said, “is having a plan to move out so I don’t have to deal with the backlash. They’re going to take the breakup harder than I did.” I propped myself up on my elbows. “So, I looked at some jobs online over the weekend. You know what sucks? I went to the college I wanted to go to, got the degree I wanted, and then I graduate and it’s like there was no point to it.”

“At least you have the degree,” he said. “While you were in college, I was fucking my life up and spending time in rehab.”

I felt bad hearing him say that. Felt even worse because of the tone of his voice. I knew how much he had wanted to go to college but couldn’t when his life spun out of control. There was a part of me that felt almost guilty for complaining now, because what he was saying was right. Having my degree was a big deal and maybe it would pay off. It just didn’t feel like it right now.

Wes put his arm behind his head and I saw his other tattoo as his bicep flexed. It was just a jagged shape and he hadn’t mentioned it, so I figured it wasn’t significant or at least nowhere near as significant as the lion.

“So,” I said, “you’re wanting to go back to school? Photojournalism?”

He nodded.

Wes had always loved photography, and he’d always been damn good at it. I remember the first time he got a real camera—replacing his cheap point-and-shoot one—and how he spent days outside, taking pictures of anything and everything. He rarely shared any of them with me or anyone else, but I did get to see the ones he got published in a local magazine. We were fifteen at the time, and he’d already been paid to do what he loved.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, saying, “It’s not going to be easy, but I have to do it for myself.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s fine. Ask me anything.”

“What was rehab like?” I asked. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

“I’ll talk about it. It sucked. I didn’t have my own room. Had to share a room with a guy who snored and talked in his sleep, kept me up most nights. There were group sessions where I heard stories that made me think if I had gone through what some of those people had endured, I would have rather died. A lot of people had it worse than I did. But that doesn’t matter. When you hit rock bottom, it’s your own personal hell, so there’s no comparing, no contest to see who had it worse. Then there was the physical part of it, the withdrawal. If I had known what that would be like, I never would have tried a drug stronger than aspirin.”

I laughed.

“You laugh,” he said, “but I’m not exaggerating all that much.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “The thing that helped me most was the one-on-one sessions. I didn’t feel like I had to hide anything. Let’s just say I wasn’t really truthful with the group. My therapist knew it, too. Said it was common, and that’s part of why they have one-on-one anyway.”

I thought of myself in classrooms, the library, study sessions, all the while feeling like it was a grueling experience. Meanwhile, Wes was battling for his life, in a truly miserable situation. He should have been where I was. He should have been with me.

All of this talk of the past brought back the flood of memories. “I hated you for leaving.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you contact me? I looked everywhere online for you—Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, I mean everywhere.”

He was rubbing my arm with his fingertips, sending a tingling sensation throughout my entire body.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m not on any of those. I’ve looked at those sites and most of it seems like bullshit, like people putting out a story about their lives that isn’t really the truth. It just doesn’t seem real.”

He sat up on the couch, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. I stood, got my dress and slipped it on. Wes pulled on a pair of shorts but remained shirtless.

I started to sit next to him, but he locked his hand on my hip and pulled me toward him. “You’re not going anywhere.” I straddled his lap as he swiped his phone open and said, “Let’s order something.”

He called and ordered Chinese delivery, and as soon as he hung up he swung me around and I landed on my back on the couch.

“We have twenty minutes,” he said.

He started kissing me. On my lips. My earlobes. Down my neck. His tongue traced along the edge of the neckline of my dress, teasing and tickling, and I felt my nipples tighten.

My legs wrapped around his waist and I wished he didn’t have his shorts on. I felt his cock, hard as steel, pressing against me. My eyes were closed and all I could think about was him sliding my panties down, unzipping his own, and fucking me right here—fast and rough and frantic like I wanted it.

A knock at the door interrupted us. Wes raised his head. His face had a reddish hue to it, he was so worked up.

“Has it been twenty minutes? Fuck. I was just getting into it.” He smiled and kissed me, then shot up off the couch, walking over to the door as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

He opened the door and then started to close it, but a hand reached in a stopped him. I couldn’t see who it was, but it was a girl. A girl with a very shrill voice, saying, “Who are you with?”

“Leave.” He said it in a calm but stern manner.

Who the fuck was this?

“Let me in, Wes, or you’re going to regret it.”

The girl pushed on the door.

I sat up, holding my breath, my eyes growing wider with concern.

“Not now,” Wes said.

“Yes now. It has to be now. You know why?”

Wes didn’t say anything.

“Do you know why?” she repeated, her voice becoming even louder and more screechy.

“Leave, Meghan.”

Meghan?
Shit, I’d almost forgotten. That was Meghan, the stalker girl he’d told me about.

“No,” she said, pushing on the door, trying to get in. “You need to tell whatever skank you’re fucking that you’re going to be a father. I’m pregnant and it’s yours.”