Chapter 18
Kipp
Public sex has never been my thing before.
But I think it is now.
Bunny arches her back on another heavy moan, wet pussy incessantly clamping around my cock, “OhmygodKid…”
“That’s it,” Nolan growls against my neck from the seat behind me, teeth scraping the skin near my collarbone. “Fuck our dirty little slut.” One arm curls around the headrest to grab a handful of his hair causing him to hiss and sink his teeth in deeper. “Goddamn, Kid. You want me to blow a load, don’t you?”
Correction.
I know it is now.
“Yes, Sir.” An arrogant grin spreads on my face at the same time I drive a digit further into her back hole eliciting a loud, body shaking scream. “Blow that shit all over my fucking backseat.”
It’ll be a bitch to clean.
But so worth it.
More groans grace my ears leading my dick to twitch in warning while my eyes roll back into my head. Wetness continuously laves my shaft as much as my balls as Bunny greedily bounces up and down, forehead savagely smashing into the ceiling during her climb to the pinnacle of ecstasy. One of her hands feverishly cups her own tit, squeezing and kneading, bruising the territory, yet the other finds its way around the seat to latch onto our boyfriend’s neck, needing the stiffening area for support.
Leverage.
“Be a good filthy little fuck for me,” Nolan begins around his choppy breathing, “and fill our dirty fucking slut with cum.”
Like a sex themed abracadabra, blistering bursts splash against her deepest depths where they’re immediately welcomed by perpetual pulsing, sucking them in even further, determined not to spill a single drop.
“Fuckkkkk,” burns the side of my face right before Nolan bites my earlobe, figure twitching as he comes undone with us from his slightly separate position.
The instant my cock quits kicking our woman collapses forward on an undeniably pleased sigh prompting me to relocate my grip to the small of her back. “Happy, baby?”
She nestles her face on my bright, tight checkered, baby blue dress shirt covered shoulder, which gets Nolan lightly chuckling. “She definitely looks happy.”
Her hand removes itself from his frame to flick him off.
“Mmmhm,” our partner airily laughs again. “Glad to see you too, Rabbit.” Bunny glares for only a moment due to him planting a kiss on her parted lips. She adoringly sighs, and afterwards, he delivers one to the side of my forehead unconsciously summoning the same sound to leave me. “Come on, you two. Let’s get you fed something with actual sustenance.”
Bunny angles her head to meet my stare. “That means food.”
Delivering a slap to her ass sparks louder giggles to instantly flood the vehicle.
Man, I never imagined I would love hearing that shit more than my bass system blare Trans-Siberian Orchestra when I’m behind the wheel.
Really anytime.
There are very few things I enjoy more than the laughter of the two people I would willingly drink a gallon of coolant for.
And on that list would definitely be hearing them fucking come for me.
Huh.
Pretty sure that might be the whole list.
The three of us pile out of my vehicle and do our best to respectfully readjust our clothing in the dim parking lot where I barely managed to find parking.
This is definitely one reason I hate doing shit in Crystal Waters, especially on the weekend. Bigger cities always equate to shittier traffic and more importantly, shittier parking. Where Nolan was forced to park his tow truck is a mystery and one that I probably would’ve dove into had he not crawled into the backseat while Bunny and I were momentarily making out – brought on by me changing out of my work shirt – to join us.
That’s probably the wildest shit about this whole thing.
Once we leave the starting mark, there’s no slowing us down until we’ve all crossed the finished line.
Doesn’t matter where we are.
Or the time of day.
Or what the fuck we have to do.
As soon as that flag waves for us to go, that’s exactly what we do.
What makes it even better?
None of us have ever been this way with anyone else.
I swear, it’s like we’re the same magical formula that made the first Fast and The Furious movie so damn memorable.
Bubbling Bistro, the corner café whose back lot we managed to grab a spot in, is already packed and on a wait by the time we finally arrive. Getting here sooner would’ve obviously been better but between a full day in the garage, cutting out early to pick up parts, and a little showing off of my woman that everyone agreed looks like she walked right out of car mag, time wasn’t totally on our side.
Alright, it could’ve been.
But if the choice is showing off my chick, then filling her with cum to remind her who she belongs to after dudes had been drooling over her for two hours, I’mma choose that one.
Every. Time.
About an hour post putting my name on the list and tapping my foot to more cover band songs than I care admit, we’re settling around a rectangular table on the patio that’s far enough away from the music that it’s not difficult to hear one another while close enough that it pleases Bunny given the way she keeps singing along.
Thoughtlessly, I flop my face into the open palm of the arm that’s resting on the edge of my chair.
She’s really not a bad singer.
Definitely prefer when she sings the catchy shit because she wiggles her ass with it too.
Nolan playfully nudges my foot under the table and taunts, “I’mma start calling you Pup instead of Kid if you don’t stop lookin’ at her like that.”
I do my best to banish the blushes by giving the side of my neck a bashful rub.
“Then Imma start calling your ass Cujo instead of Mutt for what you did to his neck,” Bunny swiftly counters from the seat beside me.
“What’d he do to my neck?” Casually prodding the space is attached to another question. “Shit, did he give me a bruise?”
“With his mouth,” she sassily reminds, receiving a glare from his position across the table, “which is what we call a hickey.” The jovial teasing is redirected to me. “Can you say hickey?”
Flashing her a crooked grin precedes my own smug statement, “You’re talkin’ an awful lot of shit for someone who’s carrying my load between her legs.”
Bunny’s eyes instantly widen to the size of the tray our waitress is carrying our drinks on.
Nolan erupts in laughter while I merely look up at the now crimson cheeked redheaded woman delivering our beverages to offer gratitude. “Thanks.”
“Mmhm,” she hums back, attention buried downward to avoid meeting my gaze. “Do you um…Does everyone uh…Do you need a um…”
“Napkin,” my best friend casually interjects causing our woman to squeak in shock.
“Minute?” Opening the menu up, I politely inform, “That would be great. Thank you.”
Mumbled words are thrown in our direction before she hustles away to tend to another table.
Bunny’s huffing is loud and immediate, “I cannot believe you just said that in front of her!”
“I can.” Nolan reaches for his glass of water and presents me with a mischievous smirk. “I’d say I’m rubbin’ off on you.”
“That’s definitely what you did in my car,” I shoot back as I grab my draft beer.
Laughter leaves them both, yet it’s the man in my life that speaks again, “You’re a mouthy little fuck today. You must’ve been around Butler.”
“Is that the tiny one with the chin pubes?” Bunny inquires, frame leaning towards me, but hand extending across the space for Nolan to rest his on top of.
Conversations about acquaintances and other mechanics we deal with fairly regularly take up most of our time premeal as well as the meal itself. Our girl listens on, fully engaged in all the stories we share, contributing with her own in regard to who she met today along with whose name she recalls from our bookkeeping program, and fully immerses herself in the discussion clearly staking her claim in a world we shared before her but are eager to invite her into.
The fact she wants to remember who is who and when we see who leads to additional “puppy dog” stares from me and Nolan both.
I don’t think he can help the shit any more than I can.
We want her here with us.
Working with us.
Living life with us.
Simply existing with us.
How we managed to live without her presence is like a car running with low transmission fluid.
It can be done.
But it shouldn’t.
And the damage you sustain is not only costly, it’s often permanent.
Being full of fried food and beer has me wanting to stay put; however, seeing Bunny continuously wiggle her hips in her seat has me defeatedly sighing, “You wanna dance, don’t you, baby?”
“You two owe me at least one…”
“I don’t remember agreein’ to that,” Nolan playfully jabs back.
“You know what they say,” I warmly remind at the same time I stand up, “a well-tuned engine roars, a poorly kept one won’t floor.”
“People don’t say that, Kid,” my best friend good naturedly argues and rises to his feet too.
“Pretty sure gearheads do.”
“Nope.” Bunny excitedly stands up to take our offered hands. “Not even them.”
Our trek to the area where people are wiggling around is short. Almost immediately, our girl begins bouncing her shoulders to the rhythm of the Queen song the band is covering. It isn’t until they get to the chorus that I recognize the music and find myself singing along to “You’re My Best Friend”. Nolan and I both place a hand on Bunny’s lower back to sway our frames with her yet fold the very tips of our fingers together to be linked to another as well.
Like all the other shit that happens between us it feels natural.
Like it’s shit we’ve done forever.
Care or concern over what anyone else thinks about our situation doesn’t arise even once in my mind.
Maybe because I’m happy?
Maybe because we’re all truly happy and that’s all that matters?
That should ever matter?
“Crazy Little Thing Called Love” is played next and our woman – clearly no longer satisfied with our in-place swaying – breaks up the position by playfully pushing us apart. Her head sassily whips back and forth while her hips mimic the movements in her floral pink mini dress. Bends to the beat are accompanied by finger points to each of us eventually convincing me first to do something in return. Grabbing her hand to pull her close and dip her on the perfect note not only receives me instant smiles of praise, but it also spurs the man I know better than I know myself to enter competition mode. He grabs her hand the second she’s upright, tugs her to his chest, walks her a couple steps and spins her around. Bunny tips her head back on an open mouth laugh and follows his lead until I’m intervening right as the guitar solo begins.
Awkward dance moves – I’m sure I should be ashamed of – battling against out of date moves – Nolan should definitely retire – repeatedly send the beautiful brown skin beauty that’s literally taking my breath away with her hip twists into a giggle-based frenzy.
One more Queen song is played before the band announces a much-needed break, a break that in turn allows us to sit back down to finish our drinks and pay the bill.
Unfortunately for us, paying the bill becomes its own unpredicted problem.
“I can fuckin’ pay, Nolan,” I gripe on a hard tug of the leather holder. “Forfuckssake, man. I make good money too.”
“Yes, I’m aware of your fuckin’ allowance, Kid,” he bites back at the same time he pulls the object to him. “I pay it.”
“You don’t fuckin’ pay it.” The item is yanked back to me. “We share the goddamn business.”
“The garage, yeah. The towing, no. Therefore – and I know big word for you – I make more in this household and can afford more.”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t fuckin’ afford.”
“Don’t act like I don’t know what you can.”
“Don’t act like you know every fucking thing that I do.”
“Don’t act like I fuckin’ don’t.”
“You. Don’t.”
“You keepin’ more fuckin’ secrets from me, Kid?” His head tilts suspiciously to the side. “First the fact that you’re…” Watching his face crinkle has me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “…whatever with me. And now something else involving money? You been doin’ extra gigs again? Runnin’ illegal parts for Marcus? I fuckin’ warned you about him.”
“I’m not doin’ shit for Marcus.”
“Then what extra money shit don’t I know?” To my surprise, he lets go of the holder. “And what else besides those two things don’t I know?! Since when don’t you trust me?”
“Since when don’t you trust me?”
“When did I say I don’t trust you?!”
“Why are you fuckin’ yelling at me?!”
“Why are you yelling at me?!”
“Enough!” Bunny forcefully interjects on an unsuspecting snatching of the bill. “I’m gonna pay for this shit.” She moves the object out of our reach. “And then we’re gonna go home and finish this conversation behind closed doors and not with an audience like you two have now.”
Her statement nudges my stare to steal a quick glimpse around at the other guests who are doing their best to pretend they weren’t looking.
Gawking.
Watching.
Judging.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up encouraging me to take a harder look around for a pair of eyes that are still lingering on me.
Us.
Not noticing anyone has my spine slightly untensing but the knot in my stomach staying.
It’s like hearing a car pull up to the shop and being able to instantly know from the engine’s sound what sort of neglect it’s suffering from.
It’s instinct.
And my instinct is flashing every fucking single warning light possible.
“I’m not comin’ home,” Nolan grumbles out during another attempt to grab the bill.
“Why?” Hurt invades my tone without my permission. “Are you really that pissed at me?”
His shoulders instantly sink to the ground. “Of course not, Kid.”
Relief slides into my gaze as Bunny hands the waitress our bill. “Then why aren’t you coming home?”
“Technically, on the clock.”
“You said you were takin’ off for our date,” our girl points out with a pout.
“And I did, fluffy tits.” The wink he shoots has her rolling her eyes. “I just…couldn’t take off for postdate activities like I originally planned.”
“Why not?” I rush to interrogate.
“Because.”
Not glaring is impossible. “Because what?”
“Let’s leave it at because.”
“Nolan.”
“What did I say?”
“Miles.”
“Fuck, fine. Spoilsport-”
“So. Old,” Bunny teases from behind her glass of water.
“Don’t make me put you over my knee in public, Rabbit,” he sexily scolds prior to presenting me with his attention. “I have to work now because I’m takin’ off all of next Sunday.”
Hearing the announcement immediately gets me shaking my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Too bad I already am.”
“What’s next Sunday?” Our lady cautiously questions.
There’s no time to brush it off due to Nolan replying, “His birthday.”
“What?!” She squawks in excitement along with disbelief. “And you weren’t gonna tell me?!”
I stretch my arm around the back of her chair, unconsciously called to shield her from something unknown. “It’s not a big deal, baby.”
“It’s a huge fucking deal, Kid,” Nolan forcefully disagrees at the same time the check is returned in front of Bunny. “And you coming into the world is like the invention of the car. It’s shit worth celebrating.”
Against my own volition heat begins to burn my cheeks.
“Do we already have plans?” Bunny pushes the folder to the side implying the woman can keep whatever cash remains. “Is that why you took off?”
Fuck. Me. Do I love hearing the word we.
And plans.
And knowing she has every intention of sticking around once I get those parts in her car.
“I got us tickets to the Mike Ike.”
Her forehead crinkles in obvious confusion. “The candy?”
“The Car Show,” I explain while letting my thumb deliver a soft stroke to her arm. “It’s this huge all-day thing they do out in Spike Village. Popped hoods. Prototypes. Demonstrations. Drag races. We’re talkin’ a gearhead’s wet dream.”
“And my bank account’s biggest nightmare,” Nolan impishly points out, “hence why I gotta get back on the clock.”
Our girlfriend directs her question to him. “I take it you only got two tickets?”
Discomfort doesn’t hesitate to dart through his expression during his explanation, “Yeah…but I got ‘em when they first went on sale which was long before you were here. And I-”
“It’s fine,” she swiftly insists. “Really. You two can go have a boys day, and I’ll stay behind at the apartment. Cook your favorite meal. Bake your favorite cake-”
“Greet us with ice cold beers when we walk through the door…” our boyfriend casually suggests.
“You? Never.” Her mirth filled gaze glides over to me. “You? Only because it’ll be your birthday.”
Post one final round of laughs, the three of us exit the restaurant together, something that’s quickly severed only a few steps away from the front door of the building. Nolan’s abrupt announcement of a departure is followed by chaste kisses to us both. He takes off in the opposite direction leaving me to drape my arm around Bunny’s shoulder and guide her back to my car.
Not bad for a first date.
Drinks.
Dinner.
Dancing.
Only thing that sucks – aside from Nolan bailing early – is that she paid.
And the only reason I didn’t make a bigger fucking deal about it then was because we had other shit to discuss.
It’s an easy fix though.
I’ll just slip the cash back in her purse after she’s passed out from being my dessert.
Which is why I didn’t order any.
Her frosting is the only thing I want on my tongue for the next couple of hours.
“What kind of cake was your favorite when you were a kid?” Bunny asks, body leaning into my hold. “I mean really you still are a kid, but I’m referring to your Chuck E. Cheese phase of life.” All of a sudden, she snaps her head to meet my stare. “Have you ever even been to Chuck E. Cheese? It’s not like the town you were born and raised in has one.”
The eye roll she conjures occurs as we swing around the corner for the parking lot. “I-”
“Stop right there,” states a lean, dark-haired male, with a pistol pointed directly at us. “You have something that belongs to my employer.” Naturally, my frame twitches to act prompting him to instantly press the barrel against my forehead. “Don’t be a hero, dude.” His other hand yanks Bunny out of my arms in one quick tug. “This little bitch isn’t worth it.”
Despite my seemingly immobilized position, my girlfriend refuses not to put up a fight.
The sharp kick to his shin crumples his figure and slightly loosens his grip on the gun. She jumps completely out of the way while I slam his torso into the backside of the nearby brick building. Hearing all the air knocked out of him increases the speed and haste of my next movement.
Punches are brutally delivered to his ribcage.
His liver.
His ribcage again.
Pound on top of pound is laid into him, each one more determined than the last to break whatever it is they’re colliding with.
Our assailant twitches in an attempt to fight back or flee prompting the elbow of my other arm to snap upward forcing his head to kick back against the wall. Blood droplets fly through the air splattering me in the face, simultaneously demanding I stop and daring me not to. His slightly disoriented demeanor becomes even more so after a fist to the balls and a second elbow to the throat that results in more blood coughed up from a crushed windpipe.
When the weapon he had been clutching onto finally fumbles to the ground, I don’t hesitate to grab it.
Put it in the exact same position he had it on me.
Pump a single bullet into his skull and watch him lifelessly crumble to the pavement to the sounds of Bunny’s terrified panting.
This asshole was dead fucking wrong.
Not only is Bunny Abernathy worth losing a life for…she’s worth taking one too.