The Preacher's Son #2: Unleashed (2 page)

"So it's...casual, then?" He was trying to sound nonchalant, worldly. 

I took his face in my hands and kissed him, deeply.

"No, Tre. No. Casual would mean we were seeing other people, seeing other people besides each other. That's not what I want, and it's not what I meant."

He nodded, relieved.

"Then what did you mean?" 

I wished he wasn't so relentless in this topic, but I couldn't blame him

"I don't know. How's that for honest? I don't know. I don't know what I want with you besides to spend time together, okay?"

He seemed to sense he was pushing me in some way, and he nodded, brushing a sopping tendril of my hair away from my cheek.

We got out, dried off, and wrapped up in towels. He followed me downstairs to the kitchen and sat down, waiting. I guess he knew I had something in mind. I took a pair of beers from my fridge, handing them to him to twist off. He lifted an eyebrow, and then wrenched the tops free.

"Since you're trying new things..." I said, lifting my bottle to him in a toast. 

He clinked the bottles and took a long swig, longer than I'd expected. This wasn't his first beer.

"Me and Jimmy sneak beers all the time. Jimmy's dad drinks and don't notice when we take some."

We drank our beers in the living room on my tan suede couch, chatting as the sun went down. I told him about growing up in Savannah as a preacher's daughter, and he told me about his adventures with his friend Jimmy, hunting, fishing, hiking out into the wilderness and once getting hopelessly lost in the woods for two days. We drank a second, and a third, and that was when he started to slur a bit. I was sloppy myself by then, never having been a hard drinker.

I kissed him, suddenly. He nearly dropped his beer, then reached over and placed it on the coffee table. We'd been wrapped in our towels the whole time, and I untucked the edge of his towel, lifted it free and set it aside. He did the same to me, and I pushed him down on the couch, onto his back, laying on top of him, lifting my hips to push him deep inside me. 

We took it slow, then, moving our hips in a slow roll, arms wrapped tight around each other, bodies clenched close. He kept it slow, even as he rose to orgasm, forcing himself to keep it slow, and I felt a pang of deep affection for him for that. He lasted, and lasted, and when he started to come and I wasn't ready, he slowed, stopped, gritting his teeth and straining every muscle in his body to hold back. I kept still, awed at his control, the strength it took to hold back like that, especially when he was still so new at all this. 

I came hard, biting his shoulder, and he released into me, clutching my ass to himself as he exploded, sighing in pleasure.

We made love again and again that night, usually with me on top, until Tre was too exhausted to move, and I was sore in all the right ways. Dawn came and found us just falling asleep.

Tre strode confidently up the door of his father's house, arms swinging wide, gait easy, back straight. 

He'd decided as we ate a late breakfast—late being past noon—that he had to at least talk to his dad once. I agreed, and admired him all the more for the courage I knew it must take to face his father.

I offered to go in with him, present a united front, which was a difficult thing to offer, but he refused, saying it was between him and his dad, and it wasn't really about me at all. I admit I was relieved, and sat in the passenger seat of his truck, watching him go. I was proud of him, and scared for him. 

Most of all, I wondered where the hell this relationship was going. I'd only been in Yazoo for two weeks and I was already bored. I was glad I'd rented the house instead of buying it like I'd considered doing. If things with Tre continued, we'd be the scandal of the town, and I had no desire to stay and be the fodder for gossip. I wasn't sure I was ready to take Tre with me, though. I went in circles while I waited, weighing my options against my desires.

Nearly an hour passed before Tre came out again, anger written in every line of his face, in the aggressive stomp of his boots. 

"Bastard," he said as he sat down in the driver's seat. "Stubborn old goat. I didn't expect any different, but still, it hurts. And it pisses me off. I'm so angry at him I could spit nails, I swear."

I took his hand, twined our fingers, not speaking. He didn't need my words, just my presence. He let me hold his hand as he drove, heading not toward my house but somewhere else, outside of town in a direction I'd not explored yet.

"Where're we going?" I asked.

"I thought we'd hang out with Jimmy. I want to introduce you. He's my only real friend, and the only person left who cares about me."

I realized then that I'd never seen his mom, or heard him talk about her. "What about your mom?"

His shoulders tensed. "She's just...there. She don't stick up for me, or care much. I don't know. She's just there. It don't matter."

His accent always got more pronounced when he was upset. I placed our twined fingers on my leg and let him drive, kept the silence. Sometimes a man just has to stew.

Jimmy Dixon was the opposite of Tre in every way. Short, thick, with long brown greasy hair held back in a ponytail, Jimmy was a nice guy, shaking my hand and appraising me appreciatively. We sat in an old barn and drank beer and talked, and Tre sat beside me, his arm around me, trying to act casual.

I decided to show off a little, for Tre's sake. He wanted to impress his friend, and I thought I'd oblige. When we all finished our beer, I offered to get more and as I came back to pass them around, I sat down on Tre's lap, draping myself across him. He cast his eyes towards mine, smiling at me, letting me know he knew what I was doing.

Jimmy looked away, and I saw jealousy in his eyes, a flash and then gone. 

We spent the day with Jimmy, heading back to my house as the sun set.

Instead of getting out with me, Tre stayed in the truck. "I'm going to grab a few things from home...from my parent's house. I'll be back in a little bit."

I agreed, kissed him, told him to be careful. I'd seen the anger in both men, and I didn't want Tre to come back hurt.

He showed up about half an hour later, bringing big duffel bag upstairs with him, anger and frustration and hurt in his eyes and the set of his jaw. He stopped short when he saw me. I'd decided to surprise him with a little show, a reward for standing up to his dad. I was lying on the bed, posing. I was on my side, facing the doorway, head propped in one hand, wearing nothing but a long string of pearls I'd inherited from my grandmother. The pearls were draped around my neck and hanging between my breasts. 

Tre just stood there for a shocked moment, staring at me. He dropped the bag and descended the three steps into my room—our room. He stood in front of me, his gaze openly ravenous.

"Take off your clothes," I told him. He started to oblige, ripping his shirt over his head. 

"No. Slow. Give me a show," I said. "You like to look at me...well I like to look at you, too."

Tre smiled a slow smile and peeled his shirt off gradually, undulating his hips and rocking his torso. He moved awkwardly at first, hesitant and self-conscious, then gradually began to get into the dance. It wasn't a striptease like you'd see at stripclub, since he'd never seen that kind of dancing in movies or real life, but he gave it all he had, trying to dance sexily, and oh my Lord, did he succeed.

He wrapped his shirt around his fists and stretched his arms above his head, straining his muscles, posing, flexing. Then he tossed the shirt aside and unbuttoned his jeans, moving his hips in a suggestive circle. He turned around and faced away from me as he bent over to take off his shoes and socks, then turned back around and resumed his undulation of his abdominal muscles and the rocking of his hips. He pushed his pants off, sliding them down and stepping out, kicking them aside and dancing all the while. 

It was a strange scene, his not-quite-comically cute dancing, still somehow sexy to me. His body turned me on, just the sight of his muscles and his cock bulging against his boxers. He teased me with his boxers, pulling them down and then back up, giving me peeks at his penis. 

He stepped close to the bed, and I snagged the band of his boxers, rolling to my belly and pulling him to my face. I pushed the boxer down and took the head in mouth, sucking gently, a tease, a promise. 

I pulled him onto the bed, pushed him onto his back and left him there. 

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

He nodded, suddenly wary. 

"I'm going to do something new tonight. Just lay there and let me do it. You'll like it, I promise."

He just nodded. I went to my dresser and pulled out two silk scarves, one crimson and one deep purple. I draped one scarf across his chest, took his right hand in mine, wrapped the end of the scarf around his wrist and tied the other end to the bedpost, wrapping it around both post and wrist several times and tying it off. I sat astride him, taking the other scarf in my hand. I ground my pussy against him, getting him ready, sliding my slick, desire-wet flesh against him.

"Oh, please," he whispered. "I want you." 

He reached for me, slid his free hand over me, touching my breasts and nipples, stretching down to reach for my pussy. 

"You'll have me," I said, grinding against him but not sheathing him inside me yet. "But I'm not done tying you up. You'll just have to trust me."

He rocked his hips against me once more, caressed my breast before lying back and waiting. I tied his left wrist like the right. 

"Are they too tight? It shouldn't hurt, just restrain you."

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. But how am I supposed to do anything like this?"

I laughed, sitting astride him again, but across his knees, leaving his body exposed to my hands. "You'll just have to let me do all the work, then, won't you?" 

I ran my hands over him, tickling his thighs, cupping his balls and stroking his hard, silky length with a finger, then leaned over him and brushed my breasts up his body to kiss him. I slid against him, kissing him with all the passion I had, grinding against him until he was rocking into me in a desperate frenzy. I slid back away, then, leaving his cock wet and throbbing in open air, bending to kiss his hips, his thighs, kissing his sac and his cock before moving away to his belly again, planting soft, tonguing kisses all over his body.

I pressed my nipple into his mouth, let him suck my tits, switching back and forth, ignoring his still-thrusting hips. I moved up farther still, sitting on his chest, then up farther again and holding myself aloft by the posts. 

"Kiss me, down there," I told him. "Lick my pussy."

I lowered my crotch to his face and felt his tongue lap out, stroking my entrance. I sighed in pleasure as he laved again, seeking my clit with the tip of his tongue, moving it in circles like I'd shown him to do with his fingers. I couldn't hold myself up for long, and slid back down his body until the head of his cock was pressed against my cleft.

"Will you do that to me again, later?" I asked. 

"You tasted good, I liked it. I'll do it again. I'll do it all the time." 

"Good," I breathed. 

I took him in my hand and guided him in, just an inch at first. I fluttered my hips, quick, shallow thrusts, balancing upright so his cock was stretched away from his body. When his breathing began to grow ragged and his thrusts desperate, I pulled back up and away so he was nearly out of me, leaning forward then and holding there, just the very tip inside me. He was quivering, shaking, trying to get deeper, and I matched his forward thrusts with equal movements away. With each flutter of his tip, he throbbed against my clit, and I ground my teeth to contain my gasps, already so close, so near to coming. 

"You're teasing me," Tre said. 

"Yes, I am. I'm gonna draw this out until you can't stand it anymore." 

"I already can't," he said, straining at the scarves.

I just smiled at him, fluttering my pussy at the tip of his cock, not letting him get more than an inch in. He bucked his hips up, supporting his weight with his feet, but I kept myself away from him, lifting up until I was nearly in the downward-facing dog yoga position. He relaxed again, and I leaned forward to kiss him, putting my weight on his chest, fluttering again.

He lost himself in the kiss, flexing his arms against the restraints, delving into the passion of our locked lips, forgetting for a moment the teasing game I was playing. I didn't forget. The kiss was enough to nearly drive me over the edge. 

I chose that moment, when he ceased trying to get deeper, to plunge my hips down on him fully and then sitting back on him with his cock buried to the hilt inside me. I relaxed forward again and fluttered, just giving him that one taste of full impalement. 

All this while, my pearls were around my neck, bouncing gently against my chest as I moved, a string of white against my tan skin. I moved down toward Tre, intending to kiss him, but he seized that moment to take the string of pearls in his mouth and hold me there for fear of breaking the strand. While he had me trapped, he thrust into me; he wasn't hard or desperate about it, but slow and intentional, grinning past the pearls in his mouth as he plunged into me. 

I almost came, then. 

I let him take control, closing back in with him. I had been teasing myself as much as him. I wanted him deep inside me, and depriving myself of that was as titillating for me as it was for him. I was nearing the edge, again, and he was pushing me closer.

He kept his strokes deep and slow, pushing himself as far in as he could go and drawing back out, and I began to match him, pulsing up and back down in time with him.

"Let my arms go," he said. "I want to touch you."

I shook my head. "Make me come first. Then I'll untie you and you can touch me all you want."

I  didn't tell him I was close, so close. I was trying to control my reaction, trying to keep my pace steady and stop the whimpers from escaping my lips. I mashed my face into his neck, bit him, unable to stop a gasp from slipping out as he increased his tempo, rocking me harder and harder, and then...oh God, oh my Lord, he slowed it back down, gritting his teeth and gasping into my hair.