Chapter 9 – West
WEST
T his is fast, even for me. I’ve had one-night stands before, but never a repeat the next day. Anytime I’ve been with a girl multiple times there’s been at least something of a relationship established, or at the very least an understanding of some kind.
I seriously thought fucking Kira in her wedding dress would get her out of my system. But seeing her in nothing but my shirt had my balls on fire even worse than the dress, and I had to get inside her before they imploded.
A sweat breaks out across my back as I rut and thrust, over and over, grunting each time the heat of her pussy comes down over my dick.
“Grab the headboard,” I order her as I continue railing into her, and she obeys, reaching above her head to grab hold of the bars, her blue eyes hazy as she looks up at me through her lashes.
Easing back on my knees, I take hold of her trim waist and hoist her ass to sit on my thighs, and I use it as leverage to power in and out of her.
Her cries and moans as she bites down on her lip spur me on and as mortifying as it is, I know I’m not going to last much longer. And I couldn’t even get partially undressed this time. I’m a weak fucker and I need help, but right now, I need us both to come.
“You close princess?” I ask, feeling it rumble up my throat. “Because I’m about to fucking blow,” I admit.
“Almost,” she whimpers and I instinctually bring my thumb to the hood of her clit, rubbing it in rhythm with my thrusting.
“Yes!” She cries when I touch her in the right spot, and it makes me roll my hips into her harder.
“Fuck yes, I’m coming!” She declares from the back of her throat and I let go.
I erratically fuck into her, my release jetting out into the condom as I let out a beastly growl that would concern the hell out of me if I weren’t in a state of unimaginable bliss.
I hold my body rigid, trying not to show that I’m shaking. I start carefully pulling out of Kira’s beautifully heaving body when a loud crash makes Kira yelp , and causes me to jerk the rest of the way out and fall backward.
I roll ass over head off the back corner of the bed and land in a heap on the hardwood floor.
I groan, and I hear Kira scurry across the sheets.
“West? Are you alright?” She asks as I hear her coming down close to me.
I just rolled off a bed with my dick out, but other than that, I’m super .
“All good,” I cough out, lying my ass off. “I’m just going to lay here a minute.”
And wait for my poor, still erect dick to go down.
Fortunately, Kira doesn’t continue to hover in this embarrassing moment and I see her stand. “Agnes is back.”
Perfect.
“I better get my things together.” She deflates, and I chance a look up from my fetal position, taking small solace in the way her legs wobble on her way to the bathroom.
A job well done. But what happens now? That first time was a fun and spontaneous incident that seemed to leave us both on the same page, but now she’s going to be around town for a little bit where there will be running into each other.
I don’t want to be an ass and tell her I don’t want anything more - do I?
- when she doesn’t even know how long she’ll be sticking around.
If she were going to be a permanent fixture in this town I’d definitely be open to the idea.
She’s nice, we have a few things in common and clearly, we’re sexually compatible, so it would be more than worth exploring.
But with everything going on in her world right now, I’m guessing what she needs more than anything is a friend; not someone pursuing her to jump into a relationship after almost getting married to a giant dick.
Speaking of giant dicks… I finally feel like my body’s stopped buzzing enough for me to shuck the condom off mine and tuck it back in my pants before pulling myself off the floor.
Once I’m vertical again, Kira is emerging from the bathroom with her hair in a fresh top knot, and still in my fucking shirt with no bottoms. For a quick blink it looks like she lives here with me and it makes a quick flash of electricity crackle across my skin.
She’s carrying her toiletry bag and crouches down to place it in her open suitcase on the floor.
“Keeeee - raaaaaa!” I hear Agnes sing up from the alley below and a faint smile pulls at Kiras lips.
“I’m coming!” She shouts back in a friendly voice before I can stop her and sure enough, Agnes is at the ready.
“I’m betting you already did!” She hollers back, making a laugh burst out of Kira that actually makes the muscle in my chest squeeze.
After pulling on the same leggings from last night, Kira drapes her beat - to - shit wedding dress over her arm while I carry her suitcase down the stairs.
As we proceed through the garage bays, Kira walks past Jackson who takes a good long look at the state of her dress and then up at me, his eyes wider than damn dinner plates.
I give him a warning glare as I walk past and he presses his lips together, clearly bursting at the seams to say something cocky or get the dirt or both.
When we reach Agnes’s car, not surprisingly, she’s leaning against it with a palm on the hood and smoking a cigarette.
“You sure you want to do this?” I mumble out of the corner of my mouth as Kira tosses her dress in the back of the Jeep.
She gives a casual shrug. “Free room and board, and all I have to do is be Agnes’s bitch.
Really not that much different from how I was living before, when you think about it.
” She quirks an eyebrow with half a smile and there goes that squeeze in my chest again.
“Thank you for”—her eyes flit up towards my apartment before back to mine—“everything.” Her cheeks stain an adorable pink as she gets into the Jeep and after placing her suitcase in the back, I decide to let her know that whatever this is, it isn’t over.
“Be seeing you around,” I wink at her, and it’s met with a mischievous smile.
Kira
Clang!
“We’re here,” Agnes gruffly announces.
First of all, it turns out her affinity for slamming her Jeep into trash cans is nothing personal as she takes no issue doing it to her own. Second of all…
“Agnes, you literally drove around the corner. I seriously could’ve walked. We weren’t in your car for even twenty seconds,” I remark, baffled .
“What’s your point?”
I shake off whatever I’m thinking. With this lady, it’s probably best to just go with it. “Nothing, just could’ve saved you a trip.
“And let you be seen by the townsfolk carting a suitcase and ruined wedding dress up the street? Not on your life,” she says affectionately.
You’re right, screeching around the corner at breakneck speeds before careening into a trash can with said filthy dress spilling out the back seat was much more discreet - is what the cynic in me would say.
But I’m not a cynic and she’s doing me a solid, so instead, I go with, “I appreciate it,” with a warm smile as she exits her side of the vehicle and I follow suit.
“You know, we could have a burning ceremony or something for that dress,” Agnes suggests as I follow her up the steps of the cute, white, two- story house, schlepping my obnoxious designer suitcase behind me.
“I love these houses,” I breathe out wistfully. “Is it Queene Anne?”
“Hell if I know,” she mutters as we approach the front door. “I know nothing about architecture.”
“Well it looks like a Queene Anne Victorian,” I respond. “It’s beautiful.”
Agnes pushes the front door open without even taking out a key to unlock it. This isn’t Chicago. People must know and trust each other here.
“It’s been in my family for at least three generations,” she fills me in as I follow her into the foyer, I’m pleasantly surprised at the interior. It’s tidy and clean with plenty of daylight. “I take it you know a little something about old houses?” She looks up at me resting a hand on her hip.
“I majored in historical architecture,” I shrug, feeling coy.
In my world, women got an education paid for by their daddies at the best universities but not so they could actually do anything with it.
It was to simply look pretty on the wife resume.
Misogynist fuckers also didn’t like us bragging about it but did let us choose something cultural so that we could point out an occasional art piece at a museum and remark on it so we look smart.
I shake off the ick and gesture around the area we’re standing in.
“Thank you again for letting me stay. Your place is gorgeous.”
“Well, my granddaughter helps me keep it clean,” she mentions as she turns for the stairs.
Along the trek up to the second floor, I learn that house comes from Agnes’s late husband’s side of the family but she’s lived here since she married him fifty-four years ago.
Together, they had three kids and seven grandchildren, most of whom have ‘left her to rot’ - as she puts it - in this charming little town.
She doesn’t fool me though. I can tell by the warm affection in her voice she loves every one of them and loves staying right here in Coyote Creek.
She parks me in a room with a double bed with a white comforter and a knitted afghan folded down at the foot in colors of green, yellow and blue. Everything about it is simple and tidy, including an old oak dresser in the corner and a mismatched white side table by the bed with a … lava lamp. Cool.
Agnes leaves me to get unpacked while she goes to answer some business messages, whatever that means. It’s not long before I hear the faint beats of what I’m only guessing is old school hip hop floating up from the first floor. Okay then.
Comfortable with my accommodations but still feeling a little anxious and restless, I figure I might as well call Toby to keep me company while I unpack.
I put the phone on speaker and lay it down on the bed next to my suitcase.
Toby picks up at the first ring and screams “Tell me everything, bitch!” and my heart makes a beeline for my chest wall, trying to crash through it like the Hulk.
“Fucking shit, Toby!”
“Sorry, I’ve just been waiting on pins and needles to hear from you,” he says quieter. “Tell me everything. Did you fuck the tasty mechanic until he saw his ancestors waving to him? ”
Oh… yeah, I forgot he was rooting for that for a minute there. Feeling a little sheepish I cringe as I pull out my toiletry bag.
“Twice,” I admit and brace myself for the likely explosion on the other end. He doesn’t disappoint.
“You slut!” He screams again but with laughter in his voice.
“I’m so proud of you. So I’d ask if he was good, it was worth it, if you orgasmed and if he knows how to use his beaver basher but you just said twice so that answers all my questions!
I’m happy for you, love,” he finishes his outburst, his tone calming down.
“Thanks,” I murmur, lifting a six-hundred-dollar pink sundress out of my suitcase and shaking my head. “I’m feeling a little uncertain though.”
“Why?” he demands. “You had every right to do something for you!. Am I wrong, was it horrible and you just did it a second time because you felt sorry for him? Does he have a micro peen?”
“No,” I breathe out, exasperated as I carry the pink garment to the closet in search of a hanger. “And you’re doing that thing with the rapid-fire questions again, can you dial it back? I’m a bit foggy and hungover.”
“Oh my god, you got your drink on, too. Scorned turpitude all the way, and I am here for it. So what’s got you down?”
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just feeling a little …
slutty?” I hang up the pink sundress that I’ll probably never wear out of this house.
In fact, all the clothes I’m unpacking as I talk to Toby feel a bit ostentatious.
“I was just so reckless, and it was all so fast. I just chalked it up to sowing some much-needed oats at first, but then it happened a second time this morning. I guess it’s got me second - guessing myself. ”
“You’re not slutty, and I’ve got news for you honey-butt,” he pauses to bite into something. His morning biscotti, most likely. “You’re not even really feeling slutty. You just think you should be feeling slutty.”
I lower the royal blue sleeveless blouse I was about to hang and squint up at the ceiling.
Is he right? Fortunately, he moves right on to the next topic as his restless, small attention span tends to do.
“So what’s the plan, babycake? Am I coming to get you?
Because you know you can hole up with me for a while. ”
“Yeah,” I answer automatically before hesitating. “Well, I mean, I think so. It’s just when I get back there, I don’t know what I’m going to do next.”
I finish unpacking while I fill him in on the expensive car rotting in West’s garage, daddy dearest cutting me off, my friendly phone call with Preston, and my new digs with Agnes. I finish just in time to close my suitcase and shove it under the bed.
“Girl, you are a hot mess,” Toby concludes.
“Hey, I’m at a very abrupt, involuntary crossroads here,” I defend, scooping up my phone and turning towards one of the windows.
“Sorry.”
“I’m just wondering if maybe I should…stay here?” I voice the idea out loud as I walk over to see what kind of view I have. “Maybe find a job?”
“Job?” Toby sounds horrified but I ignore his antics and keep on as I duck and pull the curtain to the side.
“To pay my way until I figure out what to do next. I just think I should lay low for a few days or years for my family to get over, you know, everything.” I wonder if I can see that darling inn from here. Like this house, it has a quaint character to it.
But Toby doesn’t have a chance to respond, because in the next two and a half seconds, I see a naked ass, Agnes startles the bejeezus out of me, and my phone goes flying out the window, Toby’s voice hollering in confused shock all the way down to the bushes below.