11. Dustin
Dustin
Brooke's apartment is small but nice. Well, nice enough. Five roommates kind of threw me off, but she seems to be making the best of her situation. I watch her gently stroke the cat's back and listen to his lawnmower purr.
"So… what happened?" I gently ask. She smiles sadly and looks up at me, hand still on the cat.
"To be blunt, he cheated on me with… I don't even know how many women." She sniffs. "Do you know how humiliating it is to go to the gyno and ask for STD tests when you're married? I felt like everyone was looking at me with hate in their eyes. Oh, the wife was playing the field. Oh, she got caught. But I didn't—I would never."
"Jesus," I breathe. I consider myself to be a rational man, but I'd like Calvin's face to meet my fists. Repeatedly. "I'm so sorry."
"Oh, it gets worse!" Her smile looks a little more forced. "He filed for the divorce, but he fought me every step of the way. And… he comes from money, you know? He co uld afford the most cutthroat lawyers. I couldn't. I got lucky with mine—Angela is a queen, and she's given me a really fair payment plan. But the ink has been dry for six months, and I'm still paying. And now he's got a baby on the way."
Scratch that. I'm not rational at all. I want to pummel that asshole into the ground. I want to curb-stomp him into next week. I want to show him how we do things in Chicago. Or rather, how some people do things in Chicago. I wonder if the rougher guys would teach me how to beat the living piss out of someone? Do they offer classes?
"And he keeps texting me and calling me and emailing me—after all this time, pestering me about some stupid baseball cards I know I don't have. He got everything… and I got this," she says with a single tear trailing down her cheek. "He's got a house in the New Jersey suburbs and a new… baby mama, I guess, I don't know their business. And I've got five roommates and a payment plan."
Before I can think at all, I leap to my feet and envelope Brooke into a silent embrace. Her cat chirps again and jumps to the floor. Sorry, Huey, but your mom needs all the love she can take right now. Wait, love? I mean, whatever. Affection. Someone to tell her she's enough, she's so good, she's so brave, and she never deserved any of the shit he put her through.
"I'm so sorry, Brooke. He's a dog-shit waste of a human. You never deserved any of that." I whisper into her slightly damp hair. "You're perfect. You're amazing. You're the strongest person I've ever met, and I'm so happy our paths crossed again."
She stiffens under my touch and lets out a watery laugh. "You're happy I yelled at you in a tourist shop?"
"I really am," I admit and chuckle. Apparently, that's all it takes for her to relax again, and I feel her arms circle around me. I ease myself onto the bed next to her and adjust our embrace, allowing her head to rest comfortably on my chest. It feels good. It feels right .
"You wanna know something stupid? I am, too." She sniffles again. "But I keep crying on your shirts."
"I don't care." I really don't. "I'll buy waterproof shirts if I have to."
"God, you're such a dork," she mumbles.
I smile down at her fluffy green hair and watch as she tilts her head back to look up at me. Her red-ringed eyes contrast in a strangely beautiful way against the vibrant green of her irises. Would it be wrong of me to lean down and kiss her right now? Probably. I mean, we're professional acquaintances. Our past is so long ago.
All professional thoughts exit my brain as she tilts her head back again and leans into me, pressing her soft lips against mine. Oh, god. We're definitely doing this again. She feels so perfect pressed against me, and I can't stop my hands from clamping down around her delightfully squishy waistline.
Her tongue flicks between my lips, and a feral groan rumbles from my chest. Oh, she likes that. Brooke's hands squeeze around my shoulders, and we tip back on her bed—before I know it, she's straddling my waist and kissing me like her life depends on it. My hands flutter from her waist to that luscious ass. The image of my handprint flashes to mind, and I want that. I want that bad .
But not enough to remove her from me. I want to feel her. I want to taste her. I want to latch on and never let go.
"Just one more time," Brooke murmurs into the kiss. "One more. Then it'll be out of our systems for real."
I don't believe her in the slightest, but I'm not about to let that stop me. I'll give her a thousand more times. I don't care that it's not realistic. Everything in this moment is realistic, logical brain be damned.
"One more time," I agree softly. She lets out a whimpering little moan, and my hands slide from her hips to her ass at the speed of light. I might have broken the sound barrier—we'll never know. And that dress . She looks incredible, like she always does, but the skirt falls above her knees. With her thighs around my hips like this? Her ass cheeks are mine for the grabbing.
My eyes roll back in my head as she breaks our kiss and nuzzles into the crook of my neck, panting heavily. I knead and pull at the globes of her ass. Everything about her feels like heaven.
Wait. Wait. I slip my hand a little further, a little closer to between her thighs. A deep rumble of desire emanates from my chest as I discover she's not wearing panties . Did I interrupt her getting dressed? Actually, does it matter?
Judging by how hard my cock is, no, no, it does not matter. What does matter is Brooke's blunt little teeth sinking into my shoulder. God, just like she used to—that one time in college, I thought about that night for months— she's unraveling me before my clothes can come off. I'm about to burst through my zipper.
"Do you want this?" I manage to gasp out.
"More than anything, Dustin," she croons.
"Promise?" I wriggle my hips under her, forcing out a gasp.
"Jesus, I promise!" She unclenches her teeth from my shoulder. "Are you going to tease me all night?"
Now, there's a thought. I can feel the grin slide across my face as her eyebrows furrow in dismay. Before she can react, I launch her upwards and flip her face down onto her bed. Her poofy purple skirt rides up and exposes all of the deliciously soft skin of her ass.
"How bad do you want it?" I ask with a hand trailing along her cheeks. Goosebumps erupt from her flesh as I ghost another touch over her skin.
She growls into the duvet. "So fucking bad. "
"Then you're going to have to wait, I'm afraid."
"Fuck you."
"I intend to." I chuckle. "Just not yet."
Ignoring her whiny little whimpers, I rear back my hand and smack her left cheek. The gasp that spills from her lips is delicious, and I want another. "Count for me, Brooke."
"One…." she whines.
My hand lands with a loud crack across her right cheek. The pale skin reddens immediately, and I adore it. This is exactly how I want her, how I wanted her so many years ago.
"Two," my sweet girl moans.
"Think you can take another?" I ask, softly kneading the thick muscle.
She pops her head up and twists around to look at me. "Are you being serious?"
"Uh, yes?"
"I can take much more than that." She wiggles her butt, and I can't help but bite my lip.
Oh, this is going to be so much fun. With a cocky smile, I rear back again, and my hand lands with a very satisfying smack. Brooke lets out a breathy moan. And I thought I couldn't get any harder. My dick is going to burst through my wool dress pants. I silently promise myself I won't linger too long, but who knows if I'm telling myself the truth ?
My red handprint decorates both of her cheeks. God, I want to take a picture. But I shouldn't, right? That's definitely crossing a line. That's sentimentality . And this is just two old friends relieving some tension. What's a little brat-taming between friends?
"I didn't hear you count. Start over."
"Fuck— one ."
"Good girl," I whisper. A delightful shiver rolls down her spine. Before she can say anything else, I smack her ass again— harder . The impact ripples over her skin, overlapping with the other handprint. If I have my way, she won't be able to sit straight tomorrow.
"Two!" Brooke yelps, and I chuckle.
"Very good girl." Fuck, I'm so hard. I nudge her knees a little further apart and take in the sight of her pussy. God, she's absolutely soaked. I trail a finger between her lips and hold back a feral groan at how slick and hot and wet she is. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to give up the spanking game. I need to bury my cock in her. I need to fuck her into next week.
I need to fill her hot cunt with my cum. But not before I give her another good, hard spank. Switching to my other hand, I rear back and land another loud crack on her cheeks. She twitches under my touch, and I rub her ass through the pain, murmuring praise.
"Three," she whispers shakily .
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it? You did so well, baby." I lean back and unbuckle my belt. Every muscle in her body tenses at the metallic jingling, and I huff out another laugh. "No, you're not getting the belt. Not today. Do you want something sweeter?"
"Maybe?" she squeaks.
"I think you do." Kicking my pants to the floor behind me, I pull up her hips and notch the head of my cock to her sopping wet lips. "God, Brooke. You're so fucking wet for me."
"Oh, my god, yes—yes, please, please? I need it. Dustin, I need it so bad, please!" She inches her pussy back towards me with little whining grunts.
"Fuck, baby. I'm not going to last very long like this." I grit my teeth and rub the head of my cock along her seam.
"I don't care!" she yelps. "I don't care, please, I just need it—need you!"
Unable to contain myself any longer, I slip my cock between her drenched lips and thrust home. The rest of the world falls away, and all that matters is this. Us. The sweet moan from my girl and the hungry way her pussy devours me. Seeing her on her knees, ass in the air, waiting for my every move, has me on edge already.
I latch my hands around her soft hips and grind myself deeper, deeper, until I don't have any length left to give. Her muscles tense again under my touch, and her breathing picks up as tiny little squeaks punctuate every inhale. She's strung tighter than a bow, and I am her humble arrow, pointed directly at the target.
The metaphor is getting away from me—which is good because it means I'm not immediately blowing my load before feeling every inch of her perfect body. Honestly? This is better than any teenage (or early twenties) fantasy I've ever had. She's here. She's real. And I adore everything about her. I want to lick her plush, pillowy thighs. I want to worship at the altar of her soft belly. I want to sink my teeth into her ass cheeks.
"God, you're fucking gorgeous," I grunt out between thrusts. Brooke doesn't respond—maybe she can't? Her little yelps morph into keening moans. Those tense muscles of hers are squeezing my cock, and I'm not sure how much longer I can last. I can feel her getting closer and closer—I slide one hand around her hips and between her legs, gently circling her clit.
Brooke fucking explodes . If her roommates didn't know she was getting laid before, they do now. I'm right behind her as I let out a deep groan. My body tips over the edge, and a wave of pleasure emanates through me, spilling every last bit of cum into her cunt. Exactly where it belongs. Exactly where I belong.
Sweat beads on my brow as I pump through my orgasm. She's not quite done and I would rather die than disappoint her. Ever so gently, I inch the pad of my thumb closer to her clit. If I recall, she doesn't want it touched directly , but she loves the attention. Fuck, I love it too. Her walls clamp down on my cock again and again—the pulsation of her orgasm almost knocks me off of my feet.
"Fuck," she gasps. "Fuck, Dustin. God damn ."
Slowing the movement of my hips, I pull all the way out and watch, mesmerized, as my cum drips down her thighs. She's a work of art. Her reddened ass cheeks, her freshly fucked pussy, and those inordinately delicious thighs all short-circuit my brain, and I just stare .
Now that I think about it, Brooke definitely caused my obsession with butts. Don't get me wrong, breasts are amazing. I will play with them all day long. But a thick, fat ass? And thighs to match? I'd beg for mercy, but I don't want it. Torture me.
"So," I start, wiping the sweat from my brow and flopping down next to her. "Out of your system yet?"
Laughter bubbles from her, and a genuine smile breaks over her face. The post-sex flush on her cheeks makes her look so divine. It's a nice contrast against the vibrant green hair, but then again, so is everything. God, it really suits her.
"Oh, that's funny." She flicks away an imaginary tear. "I hate to break it to you, D-man. I think you got into my system."
"God, you're a dork," I snicker. "I guess I did, huh? "
The smile drops from her face, and a crease forms between her brows. She sucks in her bottom lip and chews on it, just like she used to.
"Uh oh." I grimace. "What are you thinking about?"
"Where do we go from here?" she whispers quietly.
Shit. Where do we go from here? "Um. I… don't know. Do you have any ideas?"
"Well," she says as she hoists herself into a sitting position. "You're only here for what, a month? And obviously, we can't… do this again at work. That'd be insane."
"Completely insane," I agree.
"So… I don't know either. Have fun? Be discreet?" She shrugs.
"Yeah, of course. Have fun. We can do that, right?" A sour pit grows in my stomach. It should be enough. This is just two friends bangin' it out. So, why doesn't it feel like enough?