Chapter 17
Nolan
What’s sexier than one person on their knees wanting to suck your cock?
That’s easy.
Two.
My bare ass bumps into the edge of the cold, gray countertop as two sets of hands glide their way up my thick thighs.
Wasn’t expecting a tongue bath before work, but who the fuck am I to complain?
Having Rabbit look up at me devilishly with her big brown eyes, somehow displaying defiance and deference in the same blink, pulls a low, barbaric rumble from the pit of my stomach; however, seeing Kipp in the same position for the first time is what causes the rumble to transform into an unrestrained growl.
Fuck, I can’t believe this shit is really happening.
I mean yeah.
I’ve thought about it.
Dreamt about it.
Rubbed one out to it – on the side of the road on my way to a pickup if we need to be specific about the when.
Is it something I want?
Fuck yeah.
Watching him swallow me is definitely some shit I want.
His face is perfect for fucking.
Now is it something I ever thought I’d actually get?
No.
Not in the all the years it’s crossed my mind.
And I couldn’t be fucking happier to be wrong.
Bunny wraps her warm hand around my shaft while The Kid simply leaves his to linger a bit lower near my balls. There’s no stopping the initial hiss the contact conjures.
She flashes me a salacious smirk.
Wets her lips.
Lowers them to hover open near the tip yet never slides me in.
“Such a fucking cock tease,” I savagely snarl, fingers curling around the edge of the counter.
The Kid – who’s positioned directly behind her – uses his free hand to grab a fistful of her hair and slam her down my dick. “Be a good girl and fucking suck.”
Her throat instantly constricts around the new confines forcing my hand to land on top of his to help keep her in place. “Fuckkkkkkk, Rabbit. Just like that.”
Vibrations from her humming add to the delectable tightness, lowering my gaze to one that’s half hooded, floating in a dreamlike state, courtesy of the soaking wet contractions continuously choking me.
Groaning into the ruthless sucking is mindlessly done as is repeatedly flexing my fingers.
Rocking my hips into the steady rhythm.
Diving past her breaking point to see her swollen lips smash against my base while the dangerous piece of jewelry in her mouth cruelly rubs against the underside of my shaft.
I’m so lost in the uninterrupted suction that I’m completely caught off guard when Kipp’s rough palm cups my sack. The word fuck is right on the tip of my tongue, ready to hit his ears in praise, yet is overruled by Rabbit abruptly ripping her head away to release a raw throaty scream of ecstasy.
My eyes attempt to frantically scan the situation but struggle.
His hand squeezes…and pulls…and squeezes again, summoning my stare to devotedly study his slow movements.
The way his cut jaw is slightly cracked.
Bobbing.
Creeping closer and closer over her shoulder each time he delivers another torturous tug.
Relocating my fingertips from her head to his are accompanied by a barbaric grunt. “Be a good filthy little fuck…” One harsh yank has my dick tapping against his lips. “Swallow Sir’s cock for him.”
And just like that, Kipp shoves himself to the same point our woman was wedged at only a couple breaths ago. The sight of my dick completely disappearing in a single motion paired to the way Bunny’s grinding herself on the set of The Kid’s fingers buried deep inside her is enough on its own to convince me to come, but once you add in him moving his hand around to rest possessively on my hip allowing her the space needed to rub her tongue around my nuts in ceaseless circles, it’s a fucking miracle I don’t blow my load like the teenage virgin they’ve got me convinced that I am.
How else would you describe coming and immediately getting hard again so quickly?
Drool continuously dribbles past the edges of Kipp’s lips down to my balls where Rabbit greedily laps it up, moaning over every tiny driblet that she uses to smear around the swelling space. Her desperation to have more of me or perhaps the combination of us has her brazenly abandoning my sack.
Using her head to nudge The Kid’s out of the way.
Whimpering and driving my dick to the back of her throat where it savagely scrapes, practically scribbling my name and fucking social security number against the scorching surface. Her mouth gluttonously wrapped around my cock leaves our partner no choice but to send his elsewhere.
Bites are anxiously given to the side of her neck.
Her shoulder.
My thigh.
Strips of spit are streaked back and forth, forward and sideways, drenching us both during his frenzied search for something to suck on. Wanting…and needing…to soothe his ache leads to me ruthlessly yanking them both backwards so that their blurry, bliss-filled eyes can lock onto mine as I command, “Share.”
Two tongues swiftly begin to swirl around my tip, tasting and touching in tandem, both wordlessly begging for more of the sticky secretion seeping from the slit.
Louder, more primal grumbles, uncontrollably grow in size.
Numbers.
The strength of my hold gets more rigid.
Ferocious.
Guides one down for a good suck before jerking them away to have the other repeat the action. The oscillation gradually accelerates as does the speed of Bunny riding his hand. Watching her fuck his fingers while I fuck her mouth cuts off my entire ability to breathe to the point the burning in my chest matches the one beginning in my balls; however, the second I spot Kipp’s cock furiously gliding between her ass cheeks, using her while also pleasing me, hinting at a space we’ll someday both mark as ours, there’s no stopping the bursts of cum that come rushing out of me.
“Fucccckkkkkkkk!!!!!” is howled over and over again at the same time thick, white scorching ropes splatter across their open mouths and twitching tongues.
Not even ten seconds later similar screeches fly from Rabbit.
And then a single beat is all that passes before satisfied huffs pour out of The Kid.
Seeing his cum coating her back and my cum coating his face and her cum coating his finger breaks something so goddamn primitive inside that I’m left with no choice but to drop to my knees and pounce their lips, determined to be the last one that they each taste.
While getting the three of us into my compact shower is the hope, logic – and physics – prevent the dream from becoming a reality. The Kid opts to rinse off in his own bathroom considering he’s the least messy and rather than argue, I merely give him an ass pat of thanks on his way out.
I grab Bunny a shower cap and take the initiative to tuck in her hair, knowing the lengths she goes to in order to keep it so damn soft and pullable for us. Afterward, I lead her over to the tight space, turn on the water, and wait for it to get hot before gently pushing her forward. Water bounces off the white tiles, splashing us both, yet I keep my attention focused on the way it skates across her beautiful brown skin. Following the path of the droplets with my eyes quickly turns into following them with my fingers. The gentle caresses cause her to bashfully look away, an action that gets me grinning like a moron.
What can I say?
She likes when I’m a bastard.
I like when she’s sensitive.
Let’s her guard down.
Shows us the trust I know she doesn’t give anyone else.
Even if it’s just for a minor moment.
Reaching for the puff ball scrubber she prefers leads to me invading the tiny bit of space Bunny has; however, rather than toss me a snarky comment, she winds her arms around my neck and rests her head on my chest.
Steals an embrace I’m more than happy to give her.
It takes a bit of finagling on my part – like everything in this small as fuck bathroom that I’m just now realizing is too small – to get the lid to the pink and white liquid soap bottle open as well as some on the scrubber. Once it’s there, I take my time washing her back half, admiring the soft moans from the unintentional sexual strokes along with the happy sighs over the purposely affectionate ones. By the time I’m working on her frontside, she’s practically putty in my hands.
Beaming and glowing and gazing at me like I just gave her the whole fucking world.
Unfamiliar warmth rapidly spreads in my chest prompting me to focus more so on the task literally at hand. Curiosity over the words etched from her wrist up towards her elbow slows down my efforts in order to properly read them. Four words in and my stare shifts to hers. “Song lyrics?” Keeping my grip steady is accompanied by me lifting the appendage that holds the question. “You wrote song lyrics last night?”
“Hm?” She hums, eyes struggling to leave their dreamy state.
“These are the lyrics to ‘Is This Love’ by Bob Marley.”
At that, I expect her demeanor to change.
It doesn’t.
“I was singin’ ‘em when I came into the garage last night.”
“Were you?”
The lack of sass in the question furrows my brow.
Is she fucking with me right now, or is her memory really that shitty?
A gradual nod precedes another question. “Is that why you wrote ‘em down? Because I was singin’ ‘em?”
“Maybe.” Her innocent shrug cocks my head. “What I scribble down doesn’t always register to me when or why but…I have noticed…that lately…they’ve been echoes from you and The Kid.”
I lift my eyebrows in a silent request for more information.
“Last week I wrote down the entire life cycle of tires.” Rabbit’s light laughs pull from me my own. “No part of me gives a fuck about that, yet there it was. All over my ankle like a fucking scripture.”
“Because it matters to The Kid.”
“I guess.”
“Like that song matters to me.”
Finally, the mouthiness returns. “I’ll make sure to pass that message along to Skip Marley that you love his grandpa’s very popular, very famous music.”
“Who the fuck is Skip Marley?”
“Ohmygod,” is muttered in tandem with her snatching her arm away. “What are you gonna ask me next, oh ancient one? Who is H.E.R.?”
“Her who?”
“Fuckingreally?!”
“You didn’t say a name!”
Snide comments swiftly resume their mantle in our relationship and don’t bother slowing down until we’re both out of the shower, wrapped in towels, and headed to the kitchen to pull The Kid into our juvenile arguing about past and present musicians.
“Ask him,” I continue to chuckle, sound redirecting Kipp’s attention away from his phone over to us. “Ask him about Chicago.”
Confusion doesn’t hesitate to crinkle his face. “The assembly plant?”
“The band,” Rabbit replies when she arrives directly in front of him.
“That’s a band?”
“Ohmygod!” She squawks in further outrage, igniting more snickers in me. “How do you not know that?! How do you know it’s an assembly plant but not a band?! Did you take an early nap during music class that day?”
The Kid flashes her his middle finger prior to passing me a freshly made cup of coffee.
“What’s next? Telling me that you don’t know any old school dances?”
“Oh, I definitely don’t know any of those.”
“What?!”
“Just keep sayin’ shit to make her squeak like that,” I playfully insist between sips. “It’s like being honked at by a Maserati on the highway.”
Kipp warmly laughs before admitting, “I don’t know how to dance.”
Our girlfriend continues to gawk. “At all?!”
“Nope.”
She swings her stare me. “What about you?”
“I don’t like to dance.”
“But can you?”
Mirth remains in my tone, “I don’t think the distinction between like and can is important.”
“Uh-huh.” Bunny’s smirk grows extra snarky. “So, you can’t dance either?”
My halfhearted shoulder shrug receives an impish eyeroll.
“Seriously? Neither of you can do anything basic like The Cabbage Patch?” Bunny bends her arms and starts rotating them in a clockwise circle with her legs mimicking the motions. “Or the Butterfly?” Her same bent arms and legs start weaving in and out while she bobs her head to a song only she can hear. “Oh! Oh! What about The White Guy Overbite?” Dramatic biting of her bottom lip is followed by her lifting one leg upward, making finger guns, and rolling them around in a poorly timed circle.
The Kid instantly cuts me a puzzled glance. “That last one’s not really a dance move, is it?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“You two better start practicing something,” our woman demands on an amused grunt. “Because they’re playing live music at the restaurant on Friday, and I expect to dance to it.”
My suggestion is shot pre having another sip of coffee, “How about you dance, and we watch?”
“Me dance with someone else?” Her shoulders bouncing is instant. “If that’s what you want…”
“That’s a lot like teddy bear rims on a Ferrari,” The Kid slyly states at the same time I rest my arm on the counter space directly behind me. “That’s something we never want.”
More chuckles escape on a coffee cup tip of agreement in his direction.
Guy knows exactly how to paint a picture I can fuck with.
Always has.
Even when he was only eighteen comparing a good tint job to a good tit job.
“What were you lookin’ at when we came in?” I casually inquire to him as he hands Rabbit her mug. “Porn?”
“Emails.” The woman we can’t get enough of pecks him with a kiss of gratitude. “First, The Grim Keeper,” he finds Rabbit’s stare, “which is the community newsletter. And why a town of thirty-five people – soon thirty-six because Lulu Jo is apparently pregnant – needs a fucking weekly email chain is a parts manual written in Latin level of mystery to me.”
Airy laughter fills the kitchen, and I lower my fingers to rest on the side of his bare torso.
“Wait,” she suddenly insists on a quirked eyebrow, “don’t you mean you thirty-four soon to be thirty-five?”
“Nope.”
“But-”
“You make thirty-five Rabbit,” I casually remind on a crooked grin. “Might as well get used to callin’ this place home because your sweet ass ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Her faint urge to argue is there, yet she doesn’t.
She simply lets it fade.
Presses her lips together and remains silent in unspoken compliance.
“No part of me believes we need a newsletter, but,” a small headshake escapes, “I read the shit. Every week. Almost religiously.”
“Just small-town habits, Kid.” My coffee inches back towards my lips. “Anything worth noting?”
“Wendy Jo – Lulu’s mom who owns the local diner – ”
“The pie lady,” Rabbit eagerly states, proving she really is setting down some sort of roots.
“Exactly right.” Pride appears in her expression pushing him to continue. “She made sure to have them mention that you should be tipping your waitresses extra well given how scared they are to come to work after that news about the one being found mutilated on the side of the highway with a patch of skin missing from her ass.”
The change in Bunny’s breathing is subtle.
But there.
“And the other email?” I quickly ask, hoping to change topics to prevent our woman from further internal spiraling.
Particularly right after proclaiming she could call this place home.
“Bunny’s car parts are officially in.” He attempts to meet her distracted gaze once more. “Still can’t pick ‘em up ‘til Friday though. Shops too booked.” When she still can’t seem to make eye contact, he angles his face awkwardly to force it. “That okay, baby?”
It’s impossible to ignore the tears in the corner of her eyes that are trying to break past the edges.
No, this waiting to see what’s gonna happen next shit is not okay.
This being hunted by her sonofabitch psycho ex shit is not okay.
And most importantly, having to fear that the piece we’ve been missing all our lives is going to flee just as unannounced as she came is abso-fucking-lutely not okay.