I take one more deep sniff, sucking as much of Grant inside me as possible, and then push away. I run a shaky hand through my hair. “I’m done having a pity party. We can eat now.”
Grant looks me over and then nods. He knows me well enough that pressing me for any more discussion on this matter won’t end in a good place for either of us.
“You still thinking about taking those classes up in Minneapolis?” he asks as we eat.
“No, I don’t want to drive three hours every day. And it’d be so expensive because I’d be gone all day, not making any money, just spending it on classes, food, and gas. Not to mention the godawful parking situation. Besides, no one around here even cares if you have a beauty certificate.”
“We’ve got enough saved that your course expenses will be covered if you want to go.” His tone is mild, but there’s steel behind the words. Grant doesn’t like talking about our money situation, or lack thereof. He’s got his salary from Wheels Up, the custom auto shop he works at, and about three years’ worth of Death Lords income that was paid into his accounts while he was incarcerated. He should not be spending that money on me.
“I’m not fully sure of what I want to do,” I tell him honestly. “And so I’m not keen on spending ten grand on something I’m thinking might be interesting.”
“It’s there if you want it,” he replies quietly. “It’s our money; not just mine.”
God, I love him. “You want a blow job tonight,” I tease, wanting to lighten the mood, “because that’s the type of language that nets you a blow job.”
He snorts. “Baby, you’d give me a blow job if I looked at you crosswise.”
So true. After three long years of celibacy and loneliness, I can’t get enough of him. Thank goodness, it’s the same with him. A hot look enters his eyes and I know that the main course is over because Grant is ready for dessert.
6
WRECKER
Chelsea’s sad eyes make me want to break something but I know that will only make matters worse. I swallow my pride and my protective instincts. She’s damn right that I can’t do much about Mrs. Trainor even if I wanted to. I have one more year of probation and then my entire sentence will have been met. We just have to make it one more year.
The one sure way I know to make her eyes shine is to fuck her until all the sadness she has is replaced with orgasmic glee. I push the dishes to the side and pick Chelsea up and set her on the edge of the table.
“I don’t think we’ve had sex here yet. Up,” I order. She lifts her ass and I slide her sweat pants off. “You need to keep the heat up in here.”
I run a finger along the collar of her loose fitting sweater. She shivers under the light touch.
Her skin is pale from the lack of sun. She changes with the seasons. Summer she is golden and rosy but winter always makes her skin look pearly and pink.
“Why?” It’s a breathy whisper. She arches her neck back to expose more of her skin. She’s like a cat, begging for more petting. Not to worry little pussy, I’ll give you everything you need.
“Because that way you can be naked and ready at all times.”
“I’m always ready for you.” She juts her hips toward me.
That’s right kitten. Show me what you got.
I push the cotton of her panties aside and slide two fingers against her wet heat. “One of my favorite things about you, baby.”
She scoots closer, wanting my fingers to do something other than dance around her sensitive flesh. But this is my show right now and tonight she’ll get what I want to give her, when I want to give it to her. Because she needs to be able to concentrate on something other than what the bitch Trainor thinks or what anyone else has to say about our relationship. We both know it’s right and that’s all that matters.
“What else do you like?” she asks provocatively.
“Your tits.” I whip the sweater over her head with one hand. Her round, high breasts bounce in front of me. Her nipples are already tight and begging for my mouth. I capture one and suck hard. She arches toward me and I drive my fingers into her tight, drenched channel.
My hard-on beats insistently against my jeans. It wants out of the denim and inside her pussy. Ignoring the ache, I jack her harder, all the while lavishing her tits with long draws of my mouth that have her clawing at my scalp. The dishes rattle on the table as her body jerks along the surface.
“Harder, Grant,” she moans. She’s the only one who calls me Grant. Even my old man calls me by my road name, Wrecker. But it sounds right coming from her. It’s her way of claiming me. Before the club had me, before prison, before it all, I was her Grant. Her protector since she was fourteen and I was sixteen.
I popped her cherry, taught her how to give head, and ate her to her first orgasm. I was her first everything and I’ll be her last. With a rough groan, I pull my hand out of her and jerk her upright. Palming her ass, I bring that pussy right up to mouth level. Her legs dangle down my back and then find purchase against the top of the ladder back chair. She leans back, balancing on the table while I eat her like she’s the red hot tart she is.
Sweet and tangy, her flavor fills my mouth and glides down my throat like the smoothest, richest whiskey I’ll ever have the pleasure of tasting. Her bush is trimmed down to almost nothing and her cunt lips are smooth and swollen. In prison, I dreamed of Chelsea every night. I imagined taking her in every possible way and a few impossible ones.
“I can’t take much more of this,” she warns.
I ignore her. Her cunt is too juicy, too tasty and I can’t stop tongue fucking those swollen lips and her tight channel filled with her honey. Her shaky arms give out and she drops to the table. Her shoulders the only thing holding her up. That and my hands under her ass.
Her body is sloped downward, her shoulders taking the brunt of her weight as I devour her. The angled position of her body pushes her hips higher. I shoulder her legs farther apart until she is completely exposed. The taste of her drives me wild. My cock is leaking pre-come all over my groin. I have to be inside her. So much for my plans to go slow, I think ruefully. I pick up the pace with my tongue, bringing a little sting to the party by biting her clit. She screams and her come floods my mouth.
As she comes, I drop one hand to my lap and unbuckle and unzip. I pull my steel pipe out and drop her onto my lap, straight onto my dick.
She screams again when I impale her but I know her by now. That’s a scream of pleasure and I don’t stop hammering into her. She clutches my head to her chest so hard my mouth and nose are mashed in between her big tits. If I suffocate between these mounds, I’d die a happy man.
The long fall of her hair brushes my hand and I grab it and tug her
neck backward so all her vulnerable parts are exposed to my ravening mouth. I bite and kiss her tender skin, pulling her hair as she grinds on my lap. It’s a fucking miracle we don’t break the chair.
The need to come is pressing against my spine but I hold on, gritting my teeth and blocking out my own desperate need. I feel her spasm around me, her tight walls rhythmically squeezing me until I can’t stop my own orgasm spiraling out of control. My hips hammer upward while I drive into her again and again until I’m completely spent.
She collapses against me, her body trembling and shaking from the force of her orgasm. I tuck her head into the hollow of my shoulder and rub my hands over her back until her breathing evens out and her body stills. I hold her until I feel the come leak out of her.
A thrill jets up my spine.
There’s something real primitive about knowing my jizz is all over her body. It’s a toss-up whether I like coming on her or inside her more. On the one hand, it’s awesome to have her cunt milk me while I come but on the other hand, there isn’t anything like seeing my spunk all over her tits, her ass or even her face. God, that’s hot.
I can feel myself stirring again. It’s nice to be young and have almost no recovery issues.
“I’m good to go again.”
“Again? You’re an animal.” I can’t see her because her face is hidden but I can hear the euphoria in her voice. She’s going to have a hard time walking tomorrow.
Chelsea finally dozes off but her sleep is fitful. She tosses and turns which makes it impossible to get any rest. Chelsea has always had a sixth sense about things. The same dark cloud she complains of now existed right before I got sent away to prison. Around two in the morning, I finally get up because damned if I can sleep either. The dirty dishes are still sitting on the table. It’s amazing none of them fell off while I was fucking her. I find a plastic container and dump the now-cold noodles into it. The sauce goes on top and I shove the whole thing in the refrigerator. The pots in the sink are filled with cold soapy water. I pour everything out and load the dishwasher.