3
Coco
Oh my goodness, I made an absolute fool out of myself this afternoon.
What came over me?
I can’t really pinpoint what made me issue a subtle proposition to my best friend’s grandfather, only that it felt really, exquisitely right in the moment. When I got up close to the man and his strength washed over me, I went weak in the knees. My blood heated to a boiling point so fast, I got lightheaded. He smells like the leather of an expensive new belt. He’s so much bigger than me. In height and girth. All I could think was…
All I could hear was my mind saying…
Take care of me.
Take care of me.
Which is so not my personality. As an orphan who lived her life in foster homes, I’ve had to fight for every scrap of food, every advantage. No one was going to look after poor, abandoned Coco, so I had to do it myself. I’ve never relied on anyone. Ever. Even accepting this free vacation from Wanda was a difficult pill to swallow.
But standing in front of Walt, this commanding general with his granite jaw and arms covered in military tattoos, I could only imagine him rocking me in his lap, stroking my hair.
Moaning into my neck while he rides me from above. Roughly. Powerfully.
Like he owns every inch of me.
I think he already does.
I’m pacing the floor of my hotel room trying to summon the courage to return to the beach…when I hear a bitten off grunt. “Fuck yeah. Show me that smooth kitty.” Harsh, out of control breathing. “Good angel, Coco. Ah, angel baby, that college girl cunt is so hot. Just like the rest of you. Now put two fingers in and juice it. Smile at me while you fuck yourself. Say my name every time both fingers disappear. The whole way. Harder. Harder. Juice it. Ahhhhh shit.”
My knees are on the floor before I know what’s happening.
It’s him. It’s Walt. He’s on the other side of my adjoining door.
I might be a virgin, but I’ve lived with enough foster brothers to know when someone is masturbating. And he’s saying my name while he does it. Saying all sorts of obscene things to me, about my body, while he pleasures himself.
I’m crawling to the door before I can second guess myself.
Hesitating briefly, then knocking.
The flow of his words ends abruptly, but the shallow breathing continues.
“Walt,” I force out, rolling my forehead against the door. “It’s me. It’s Coco.”
Long, heavy seconds tick by. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it,” I whisper, pressing my aching breasts up against the door. Willing him to open the door and cradle them. Squeeze and bite them. “If you open the door…”
“I can’t,” he growls, his voice a whole lot closer than before.
“You can. You can let me…help.”
His moan makes my core clench violently. “Help how?”
“Any way you want,” I practically sob.
When the lock turns on his side of the door, the sound sends a wave of moisture to my sex, coating it in wetness. My nipples are in pain, they’re so tight. With all of the sweet agony going on, I’m almost incapable of reaching up and unlocking my side of the door—
But when I do, Walt is through the opening like a shot, pouncing on me, knocking me onto the floor faceup, back on the thick carpet, my thighs opening and trembling on either side of his hips. “You want to help? Grow up. Get older. Because this can’t happen. I’m sixty-three and you’re twenty-one.” He grinds his hips between my legs and a shudder wracks him. “That math is fucked up. I’m not doing this.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I hiccup, the size of him, his weight creating a severe urgency deep, deep in my womb. This man is the only man I’m ever supposed to be with. Somehow, I already know it in the marrow of my bones. “I won’t tell a soul, just masturbate with me, on me, however it’s done. Just let me be a part of it. I need to make you feel good.”