10. Adam
ADAM
I am fucked.
Well and truly.
I just want to kiss her again. All over. In private. I want to hear the sounds she’ll make when she doesn’t have to stay quiet, and I want to feel her tight, wet pussy clench around my cock the way it did my fingers. I want that more than I want anything else right now. I want her.
And she won’t even look at me.
She didn’t want me to take her home after dinner because that would have meant getting into a car with me, and she knew what would happen if she did—she’d jump my bones.
I’d make her come again in the back seat of my truck.
Somewhere no one else could see. I’d lose the Icebreakers bet, but she’d win the date.
She’s won me. And all she had to do to win me was come all over my hand.
She wouldn’t see that as a win right away, but she’ll figure it out eventually.
After I’ve made her come again five or ten more times.
Except she doesn’t want to be alone with me.
After dinner—after we posed for a few more pictures with people at the restaurant—Kate insisted that we walk to The Penalty Box for a drink.
She kept her eyes glued to the ground and cursed her boots—and me—every step of the way.
I only had one glass of wine, but she had two and a half.
She’s a lightweight and—surprising no one—an angry drunk.
Turns out it’s karaoke night at the bar and it’s packed with singles because it’s an I Hate Valentine’s Day theme.
A lot of black paper hearts that are torn in half decorate the space, and there are a lot of horny dudes.
As soon as we walked in, I asked her if she wanted to do a duet to a nursery rhyme and she just glared at me.
But at least she turned her head in my direction.
So I bet her she couldn’t sing a sexy song for grown-ups.
And now I’m standing here holding her coat, her boots, and a heart balloon that says BE MY VALENTINE!
while she sings “Hypnotize” by The Notorious B.I.G.
into a cordless mic and dances on the bar counter.
To the delight of horny single men everywhere.
They’re hooting and hollering. It is not appropriate. One guy holds up his phone to film her.
I step up to him and swipe that phone out of his hand. He cusses me out before he sees who I am, and I get up in his face, staring down at him. “You do not have permission to film my date, you fuck.” He’s cowering. “You get me?”
“Yup. We’re cool,” the fucker says.
I hand his phone back to him, and he walks away.
Now, what am I gonna do about these other assholes who are salivating over my woman while she thrusts and rolls her hips? While she shakes her ass and holds that mic like she’s about to go down on it? “NO!” I shout out to all these motherfuckers. “Noooo!”
Finally, the song ends. The entire bar erupts in cheers and applause.
Kate literally drops the mic, but the bartender catches it.
She curtsies, but she’s a little unsteady.
Two bro-dudes raise their hands to try to help her down off the bar, but I shove them out of the way. “Keep your fucking hands off of her!”
Some dickhead tells me to calm down. I’m about to give that guy a beatdown, but out of the corner of my eye I see Kate’s foot slip off the counter and I know she’s going to fall even before gravity starts to pull her down.
I drop the coat and boots, the balloons, push everyone else out of the way, and I’m exactly where I need to be to catch her when she falls into my arms.
When her eyes open she frowns up at me and says, “Was that sexy enough for you, cowboy?”
“Well played, darlin’. Time to get you home, young lady.” I set her down and wait until she’s steady on her feet before taking the coat and boots from a nice girl who picked them up for me. The heart balloon belongs to the anti-Valentine’s Day assholes now.
“I don’t want to go to my home,” she whines.
“Didn’t say I was taking you to your home.”
She combs her fingers through her hair and opens her mouth to complain.
Closes it. Opens her mouth again, but nothing comes out.
She glowers at me. It’s pretty great. I hold up her coat to help her into it.
I make sure she doesn’t fall over when she puts her boots back on.
When she stands up, she turns to me, stares at my mouth through heavy eyelids.
She licks her lips. “No,” she says. “I’ll walk home. By myself.”
She pushes her way through the crowd, stubborn and considerate at the same time. I can hear her complaining about how young everyone is tonight. And I think I hear her say something about cheese and salami, but that can’t be right.
When we’re out on the sidewalk, breathing in the crisp, cold air on Main Street, I follow two feet behind Kate, listening to her grumble to herself. Sofa grumble grumble. Fort Worth Frownypants grumble grumble. Power play grumble grumble.
Some drunk guy leans out of the passenger window of a truck and yells, “Woooo! Fogueley foreverrrrr!!! Hot beef injection for dessert!”
That shakes Kate out of her drunken bellyaching. She turns and shakes her fist at that guy, scowling like the grumpy old man she is, and calls out, “This is none of your business!”
“Good one, Red.”
She huffs and looks around. “Why am I not home yet? I’ve been walking forever.”
“We’re at my truck. Get in.” I open the passenger door and lead her toward it.
“I’m not getting in your truck with you.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Fine,” she says, climbing in. “But I want you to drive me home.”
“I want to take you to my place and make you a nice cup of black coffee. Sober you up a little,” I tell her as I reach across her lap to buckle up her seat belt.
“Okay,” she snaps. “I hate black coffee.”
“You’ll like it when I make it.”
“Pffft.”
“Well said.”
When I climb into the driver’s seat, she’s snuggling with the drugstore teddy bear I got her and shoveling chocolate-covered cherries into her mouth, moaning. “These are so good. You want one?”
“I do.”
She holds one up at my mouth level, so I lean in and open my mouth. She stares at my lower lip, my tongue, hypnotized for a few seconds, then carefully places the whole thing in my mouth and looks away.
It is good. It’s a fucking delicious chocolate-covered cherry. I can’t wait to taste it on her tongue.
We drive home in silence. I’m thinking about all the things I want to do to her.
All the different ways I can make her come to make up for ten years of her shitty boyfriend.
All the ways I can show her support that don’t involve her screaming my name while having rhythmic muscle spasms in her pelvic region too.
When we pull up to my house, I can tell from her posture that she’s more alert.
It’s a beautiful property. Frieda was an avid gardener, and I’ve maintained things as well as I could.
It’s winter, of course, but it’s still gorgeous out front.
I park in the driveway and walk around to the passenger side.
She waits for me to get the door. Instead of letting me help her out, she hands me the teddy bear and box of chocolates.
I lead her up the path to the front porch.
I give her the bear and chocolates to hold while I open the front door, entering first and welcoming her inside.
I help her with her coat, hang it in the closet, along with mine. “If you’d like to use the restroom, the guest bathroom is right there.” I point down the hall. “You can wait for me in the living room if you’d like, while I make the coffee.”
“I shall—thank you,” she says.
“Go ahead and put on a record if you want,” I call out.
When I bring out two steaming hot mugs of single-origin Ethiopian pour-over coffee to the living room, she’s sitting on the sofa, listening to my Debussy piano works on vinyl. She’s removed her boots. She turned on the gas fireplace. I like that. She feels at home.
I hand her the coffee mug and watch her eyes flutter shut as she inhales that gorgeous aroma. “Thank you,” she says softly. Almost demurely, even. Taking a seat next to her, I watch her blow on the liquid, inhale the steam, and then take a sip. “Mmmm. It’s good.”
“Yes, it is.”
She places her mug down on a coaster, takes my mug from me, and puts it on another coaster on the coffee table. “Did you make this coffee table?” she asks.
“I did.”
“It’s beautiful,” she muses, stroking the live edge.
I feel that in my dick.
She opens the box of chocolate-covered cherries and picks one. Turning to me on the sofa, she says, “Open your mouth.”
I do. She could be holding a pair of pliers in her hand and I’d do what she says as long as she touches me again.
She raises the piece of chocolate to my lips, and this time I take a bite.
The cherry syrup spills out as I chew. We lock eyes as she does exactly what I was hoping she’d do.
She leans in and licks it off my chin and my lips.
I try to kiss her, but she pulls back. “You confound me,” she says.
“You thrill me like no one else, Red.”
She winces, tenses up, and then lets out a little sigh, kind of like she did when I slapped her ass.
Then she holds out the last half of the chocolate-covered cherry, this time for me to take it in my hand.
She licks the sticky syrup off her fingers.
I pop the chocolate into my mouth, and just as I’m about to suck the chocolate and cherry syrup off my thumb and forefinger, she grabs my wrist and brings my hand to her mouth.
She licks the tip of my finger, sucks my thumb into her mouth.
“Jesus, Red. You are something else.”
When she opens her big crystal-blue eyes again, they are fire and ice. “I hate that I’m so attracted to you,” she says sweetly. She kisses the tip of my thumb, and I cup her face in my hand. She nuzzles into it.
“Same, girl. But I don’t want to fight it anymore. Do you?”
Her pouty lower lip trembles, and then she whispers, “Not tonight.”
“Yeah. Not tonight.” I crook a finger under her chin and tilt it up. “C’mere, darlin’.”
Kate leans in to kiss me. Soft and yearning at first. Quickly becoming passionate and confused.
Passionately confused. She straddles me, and her kisses are brimming with all the hellfire she usually serves me, but instead of words she’s torturing me with her lips and tongue.
“Why’d you have to be such a good kisser, you bastard? ”
I squeeze her hips, eliciting a moan. “Why’d it have to take you so damn long to find out?”
She runs her fingers through my hair and whispers into my ear, “Take off my sweater dress.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My beautiful Valentine’s date lifts up her ass so I can pull her sweater up over her head.
I suck in a breath, because I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra, but god damn, nothing could have prepared me for how beautiful her naked tits are.
Full and perky and pink little nipples on pale freckled skin.
Christ almighty. I’m speechless. She holds on to my neck and arches back, offering herself to me, and she does not have to ask.
I take one perfect bud into my mouth and suck so hard she cries out, “Adam!”
So that’s what it takes to get her to call me by my given name.
I suck harder and harder. She bears down on me, rocking and grinding against my erection.
Cupping both of her breasts in my hands, I kiss across the smooth, pillowy expanse of them.
Reverent and greedy and so fucking horny I don’t even care what crazy sounds I’m making.
“I will fucking devour you tonight, if you’ll let me, Red,” I say to her left tit.
“Yes. Do it.”
“I wanna make sure you understand what I mean, darlin’.” I nip at her flesh and drag my fingernails down her back, making her shudder and squeeze her thighs together so tight. “You won’t be able to skate tomorrow morning, that’s for damn sure.”
“Good thing I’m not competing in the nationals,” she says, still with an edge even when her voice is all low and breathy.
I flick my tongue against her nipple again, massaging her plump, firm ass.
Kate’s a funny woman, but this figure skater’s ass of hers is no joke.
She pushes back into my hands, wriggling around, and then she goes still and I know exactly what she wants.
She wants it. I spread my fingers over the sweet spot, raise my hand, and give her a good spanking.
Not too hard. Enough to sting, not enough to bruise her.
I hold her tight when she tenses up. Her head drops back, mouth open.
She shivers and slowly lowers her chin to gaze down at me. “I hated that,” she hisses. “Do it again. Same thing.”
I tug down her panties, exposing the soft, warm, flesh of her ass.
And I do it again. And again. She gasps and shudders.
I swear I have never had such a painful erection, and of course Kate would do this to me—of course she would.
But I am so close to getting what I want, I know it will be worth it.
I can feel how wet she is because her arousal has soaked through the fabric of my pants.
“You’ll be the death of me, Red.” I caress the skin where it’s hot and probably bright pink. Cover it up with her panties again.
“You had it coming, Foley.” It’s the most erotic-sounding threat I have ever heard. She pulls my sweater off over my head and stares down at my chest, frowning. “I hate you,” she whispers.
“Pretty fucking magnificent, ain’t it?”
She drags her hands down the center of my torso, light as a feather. “I wasn’t sure if you’d have chest hair or not,” she marvels, swirling her fingertips around my dark chest hairs. “Why is the hair on your chest so much darker than the hair on your head?”
Even if I had an answer for her, I wouldn’t be able to say it out loud, because she’s lowering herself to kneel between my legs and undoing my pants.
I lift my hips so she can pull them down to my ankles.
She bites her lip as she reaches for the waistband of my boxer briefs, eyes wide like she’s unwrapping another surprise Valentine’s gift.
Surprise.
I have a big, hard cock that’s weeping for you.
She carefully pulls my underwear off and cups my balls with one hand, wrapping the other around the base of my shaft.
“I will explode in your mouth the second you take me into it, darlin’.”
Grinning, she says in a girlish voice, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to do this, then…” Kate sticks out her tongue and licks the precum from the tip, swirling her tongue around the head. She licks up my shaft, sloppily and enthusiastically, but it’s the moaning that’ll put me over the edge.
“Baby…” I grab two fistfuls of hair and pull her back. “Baby. You gotta let me fuck you now. Don’t make me beg.”
She twists her lips to one side and then says. “What if I want you to beg?”
I cup her face with both hands and fix her with a blurry, heavy-lidded stare. “Please. Please let me fuck you now, darlin’. I am begging you.”
The biggest, most beautiful smile spreads across her flushed face. “All right. You may.”