A Mess of Reason (15 page)

Well, I
was
okay with fine, until
kissing Scout became sort of a regular thing. It’s only been a few
times but my God, those few times…when the earth became small as I
went into orbit from that kiss, when all my air seemed to come only
from those delicious lips…those lips I want to linger on for
hours…. That’s when things changed and my lust for Scout went from
large to super-sized. I’ve replayed those kisses over and over in
my head.

I’ll slow here so you can understand where I
am on this situation. I need him just this weekend, just while
we’re stranded here, just so I can get him out of my system and
move the fuck on. Vous ne parlez pas français? I want him to fuck
me hard. A weekend pass only. I need to know what it’s like to feel
him on me, in me…owning and worshiping me. Then I can say I did
it—we did it. I need him branded on me. The very picture of him
thrusting into me as I grip his well-muscled ass in my hands, the
feel of him fucking me, burned in my mind.

Listen up: you can go fuck yourself, karma,
because I need a sexy place in my brain with this image of us, that
I can hit replay on—like an erotic jukebox—anytime I need him. I
need him that way because I can’t give him all of me; never will I
be able to, if we have it my way. Then, I can go get married, get
pregnant, have a mess of kids and a happy life, and Scout and I can
just go back to being very best friends.

Unless we can’t.

“Tess.” His lips are at my ear, his breath
on my neck. I’m already fucked, you know.

“You’re lying back on the counter. I’m
stroking your clit right through your panties, feeling it grow,
listening to you say my name as soft little moans come from your
throat. You’re so wet for me, baby…soaked right through that little
bit of lace that covers your sweet…tight…juicy cunt.”

Don’t say I didn’t tell you so. This is
going be Oscar-worthy, folks. Who can say those kinds of raw words
and make it sound so damn sexy? Yeah, he can.

“Your cunt—which I’m going bury my face
in—your cunt that I can smell from here because it’s so delicious
and fragrant, is aching and ready for me. Your heart is pounding
and you’re more aroused than ever because it’ll be the very first
time I will have tasted your sweet cream on my lips, on my tongue….
All I’ve ever wanted is to bury my tongue up inside of your pussy,
Tess.”

I think I’m gonna need a bigger boat because
I’m already drowning in my own juices.

“I slide my hand under your ass as you lift
your hips the tiniest bit, then I hook my finger in the top edge of
your little sexy panties and I oh. So. Slowly. Drag them down.”

He says this as his hand goes to my lower
back, his fingers skating along the edge of my panties that ride
the top of my ass. I’m dying here. Dying.

“Tess, my beautiful baby. My finger, as I’m
pulling your red panties over your soft, downy skin, is buried in
the seam of your ass, teasing the warm, hot line between your
peach-like cheeks that I want to bite into. And baby girl, when I
reach the tight little pucker of your ass—which I’m going to fuck
someday—I finger it because it’s dripping wet with the sweet juices
from your gorgeous cunt.”

I swear to you he’s all this. His hot palm
goes from my lower back to my knees and my fingers have gone from
the top of my thighs straight between my legs. My thumb feathering
my clit with every word that falls from his lips.

“Scout, I…” I wish his name didn’t just come
out of my mouth,. I wish I weren’t that transparent…but right about
now I’m as see-through as a sheet of plastic wrap covering a bowl
of nirvana.

“Shhhh, Tess…be a good girl and listen up
because I’m circling it slowly… Oh, and yes, I know it’s making you
crazy, making you almost come, but I can’t let you come yet, Tess,
because I still haven’t tasted you.”

His tongue is tracing along the edge of my
ear, and that, combined with the dark velvet edge in his voice, is
making every nerve ending on my body channel their inner jazz
hands.

“But I stay there…on your sweet, tight
pucker…just a tiny, tiny bit longer, and I press my finger slowly
into you, baby, and you come apart. Arching your back, bucking your
ass onto my finger, grinding it deeply inside of you until I pull
it out because I need to get to your wet cunt. Now don’t I, Tess?
Isn’t that where you want me, baby?”

My body is involuntarily moving. As in, back
arching, hips grinding as if his finger really is in my ass, making
me want to come right this very second. I’ve created this problem,
I’m well aware.

“Tess…I want to hear the words. Tell me you
want me to get to your cunt, baby. Say the words.”

His voice is deep and sensual, certain and
silvery. He owns me with that voice…he owns me with every fiber of
his being. My eyes slide shut as he takes bold possession of my
libido, his words raining down on me like a provocative sea of
pleasure.

“Please.” My swallows are hard over my
desert-like throat, and I manage just that one word in a broken
whisper.

“Eyes open, baby. I need you looking at me
when you say it…and no, that’s not good enough, Tessie girl. Give
me the words or we’re done here, baby. Come on…do it for me.”

Tell me I don’t need to translate the vibe
that’s going on between us…tell me you feel it.
Christ-all-fucking-mighty, have you ever come from someone’s words
alone? Yeah, me neither. Well, start reading
Cosmo
, my
friends, because while it’s rare, it can happen…as in
now
.

I can barely string words into sentences but
somehow I say it. “I want you in my cunt, Scout…please don’t stop.”
I want to Jackie Chan him with my own personal fist of fury because
that would be me sitting on the countertop squirming like a
sixteen-year-old girl begging her best friend of the last fifteen
years to verbally fuck her cunt. My straightjacket, you wonder? Oh
hell yeah…it’s over in the corner right next to my vibrator—which
I’m going to be riding like a Lipizzan stallion. All. Night.
Long.

“Tess, Tess, Tess. Such a good girl…such a
naughty, sexy, good girl. So, where were we? Ah, the panties, yes.
The panties are still in my fingers and I pull them down slowly,
and one finger is at your opening, against your wet, creamy slit. I
plunge it inside of you and you gasp, calling my name, begging me
to lick you. But not yet, Tess, no, no… You have to be patient for
my tongue, because my tongue, sweetheart—it’s going to wreck you
beautifully. So I fuck your delicious cunt slowly with that finger,
teasing you…relishing the feel of your wet tightness. And though I
want to get there as much as you do, I pump a few more slow fucks
inside of you, lusting for your greedy, wanting need. Then I pull
my fingers out and my God, Tess…there’s so much cream. I need to
taste them, I need to lick your cream off…but I don’t because the
first time I taste you in just a few minutes, sweetheart, it’s
going to be with my tongue.”

My body is aching for his touch. Jesus
suffering fuck. He’s unraveling me with each erotic musing, and I
swear to you, I’m jealous of his mouth as it gets to hold his
tongue and feel it against himself. All I want right now is his
tongue doing all sorts of decadent things to my most intimate
parts. He’s looking straight into my eyes as he says every word,
and my clit gives him a standing ovation—I swear to you it’s that
swollen…yes, that hard. It thinks it’s a tiny penis dancing on
Broadway the way it’s jumping up and down inside of my panties.
He’s merciless and I want to tell him fuck off, knowing damn well
how much he’s loving the way I’m squirming. That tiny smile resting
on the corner of his mouth saying all I need to know.

“So I take one finger and find your clit,
which is easy to do because it’s pulsing like you’ve been on your
vibrator all night long. And I’ll admit, Tess, my cock is so
fucking hard right now for you that it feels like it was just
forged from steel.”

He takes my hand from my inner thigh and
rubs it along the front of his jeans to feel his hard girth, then
puts it back between my legs. Dying here.

“Scout…Jesus…why don’t you just…” I’m so
beside myself with his words that now I’m begging him to do what he
says.

“Shh, shh, now. Oh, Tessie girl, your clit
loves my finger and Christ, woman, does my finger love touching
your swollen nub, because you’re moving your hips like we’re
fucking, and your ass is bumping off this very counter up into my
finger.
And
, again you’re begging me over and over, Tess, to
lick your sweet, wet cunt.”

His lips are at my face, and between words
he places small, teasing kisses on my eyelids, my cheeks, my ears,
a deep, muffled groan here and there strategically placed. I feel
like I’m sitting in a pool of pudding. It’s like he’s never going
to stop—not that I ever want him to.

“I’ve pulled your panties down now…but you
see, they’re just to the bottom of your ass, just at the very top
of your long, slow thighs, and yes…I’m teasing you, baby.”

His thumbs are at my hips, hooked under the
lace of my panties, tugging at them… his fingers moving along my
skin…right there…but never does he move them down. I’m doing all I
can to will them off of me in some kind of divine intervention.

“I know I’m walking a dangerous line but I’m
leaving them there. You’re begging me to pull them off, I can just
tell…because I know, woman, what you want. You want to open your
legs on my face and feel my tongue plunging into you as I lick and
suck your clit, blowing your mind…making your senses spin. But I
can’t take them down yet, now can I? Because the sight of you lying
here, right where you are now, with that tiny bit of red lace
barely covering you up is killing me, too.”

Then he gently pushes my back down against
the countertop. Yes, I’m lying down. He takes my ankles in his
hands and places my feet on the counter against my ass…then pulls
me toward him.

“You’re thermal…the center of a nuclear
explosion hot.”

He’s chuckling as I’m melting. I kid you
not.

“Half naked…shirt still on, panting,
begging.”

His forefinger is skating along my bottom
lip and my tongue keeps tasting the very tip of it. I do all I can
to listen to my inner public service announcement telling me not to
play with matches because fires can ruin lives…but the heat, and
the sparks, and the burn… Here I lie, going up in smoke. OMG. WTF.
Then both his hands skate down the front of my sweatshirt, palms
flat, slowly sliding over my breasts as I arch into him. He reaches
the top of my panties and looks me in the eye as he fingers the top
edge of lace, then drags his hands to my inner thighs, opening them
all the way with both hands sliding up and down over my naked
skin.

“Oh…fuck, Scout. Please…”

“Shh, Tess…quiet now. Listen, baby… I tie a
long black sash around your knees, forcing you to keep them
together, my naughty little schoolgirl.”

He closes my knees and I pray he has a sash
in his pocket.

“But your ankles—so tiny and sexy—I take
them in my hands and I spread them as far apart as they can go. You
must feel awkward right now though with your knees still
pinned…yes?”

He slides my ankles apart, and the moan that
comes from me has his tongue skating along his lip as if he’s about
to bring his mouth right between my legs.
Oh, God,
yes…please….

“Tess…Tess…Tess. My view is exquisite as I
drag your panties down your thighs. Let me tell you something
baby…I can see all of you. Every beautiful bit of your bright-pink,
marinating-in-your-juices, ready-for-me, gorgeous cunt. And I
look…my God, do I look.”

He backs up a step, staring right between my
legs, then back to my eyes…surely having seen a pool of wet under
me.

“This is a view I don’t take for granted,
not for one fucking second.
Sinful
. The devil himself would
melt if he saw how hot you are.

“Then I tie another sash around your eyes,”
he says as his hand comes to my eyes, closing my lids. “Because I
want every sense in your body focused only on what I’m about to do
to you.”

Then he stops talking and I hear him walk
away, open the refrigerator, guessing he’s grabbing more beer as I
hear think clink of glass on glass. I almost have a heart attack. I
want to call the dammed National Guard in for backup. I’m not going
to draw you a road map. They say torture is morally worse than
murder, and if so, he is fucking criminal.

“You want another beer, Tessie girl?” I sit
up to stare at him. He says it as if we’re watching a football game
on TV and a commercial has just come on. But the smile on his face
says everything, as does the dark devilish look in his eyes—not to
mention the rock-hard outline I see in his pants.
Holy-fucking-wonderland.

“You’re not done yet,” I said.

“Oh, I’m done, all righty. And so are you,
puddles.”

I hate him. “I’m not wet yet. The deal is
you have to verbally fuck me until I’m wet, remember? You don’t get
to make up new rules, Scout.”

“Tess, Tess, Tess. Such a fucking liar. A
sexy liar, but a liar no less. And by the way, sweetheart, I’m
clear on the rules.”

He comes back over to the counter with two
beers, and I open them both for us. I’m panting like a virgin about
to get her cherry popped and feeling all too much the hit-and-run
victim. What he just did to me, with those words…oh my God, I want
him to do that to me.
Now
. I want him to push me back on the
counter and do every single hot-as-fuck thing he just said…and then
I want the rest of the story, too. He hasn’t even eaten me yet. I
want to hear that part. Believe me, I know “The Street” rules for
investing: bulls and bears make the money, pigs get slaughtered.
Call me what you will, but I smell bacon, my friends.

“Please finish.” I’m begging now. It’s not
beneath me.