Devil's Kiss (10 page)

I comply immediately, and he thrusts two fingers inside me. I cry out as I feel him inside me. I’m amazed by how wet I am already at his sudden touch. I reach forward and catch the waistband of his jeans, slipping my hand inside and finding his huge cock already erect—just waiting to be released.

Gently pulling that gorgeous length out of West’s jeans, I stroke it with my eager hands as a groan rises from the back of his throat. I brush my fingers around his tip and feel a drop of pre-cum. I press my palm into it and spread it around the rest of his head. I move a hand down to his balls, cupping them gently. His cock is hard, and pulsating in my hands.

I keep my hands on his cock as he tears the foil of a condom. As soon as it’s on, he bends down and pulls my skirt up around my waist, immediately picking me up. Before I know what’s happening, he’s lowering me onto his dick, and I moan with pleasure as he fills me up inch by inch.

He easily guides me up and down on his cock, my back steadied against the stall. I feel his hands firmly grasp my ass, holding tight. His pace is fast and unrelenting, his eyes half-lidded as he thrusts inside me over and over. I close my eyes and concentrate only on the feeling of his dick inside me. I grit my teeth, trying to make this feeling last as long as I can. But the elicit nature of our meeting and his expertise soon overwhelm me. I try to keep my cries quiet as I come.

West is right there with me, and I can hear him groaning under the sound of the music blasting on the other side of the door. With a final slam, he pushes me against the stall. I curl my legs more tightly around him and he leans against me to support himself as we catch our breath.

Finally, he steps back and moves his hands to the small of my back. I slowly slide off him and he sets me on the floor, then tosses the condom into the trash. He reaches into his pocket and hands me my balled up black panties with a smile. I have the urge to step into the stall to pull them back on, but I guess that would be silly, considering what just happened between us. I carefully step back into them and pull them up. I step toward the mirror and smooth my hair, wiping a bit of smudged mascara out from under my eye. Behind me, I see West zip up his fly.

I turn to slide the bar off the door when I feel West’s hand on my upper arm, stopping me. I pause and look at him questioningly. To my surprise, he steps toward me and wraps his hands around my back, slowly leaning in to kiss me on the lips. I smile up at him and he smiles back, reaching around me to unlock the door.

“Ladies first,” he says. I nod and walk back into the crowded area. I look around as I make my way back to the bar and stop short as I see a figure move across the room. My heart starts pounding in my ears.

Was that
Richard?

The curve of the nose was his, and the chin...But it’s hard to see in the dark, and the man I spotted wore a baseball cap and turned away as soon as I looked at him. I glance around frantically, trying to spot him again, but whoever it was has disappeared. He wouldn’t be so crazy as to follow me all the way out to Vegas...right?

I feel a hand on my back and jump.

“You OK?” West asks, looking worriedly down at me.

“Yeah,” I smile nervously up at him. “Just thought I saw a ghost.”

I take a deep breath as I survey the view from the Pine Creek Overlook. West brought me out here this morning for a hike. I thought I was in good shape, but he sets a fast pace, and I’m totally winded.

It is fascinating to walk with him, though. His experience in the Marines trained him in desert survival, and he’s been telling me about all the plants that we’ve been passing, and what they can be used for. He’s standing next to me now, and takes an aluminum water bottle out of his pack and passes it to me. I take a long, grateful swig.

“Look!” he says quietly. I look in the direction he’s pointing and see several beige shapes moving along the edge of the cliff. “Bighorn sheep. The males are the ones with the big, curved horns, and the females have the straighter horns.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders as we watch them move along the canyon. Eventually they walk out of sight, delicately finding their way across the rocky terrain. I lean back against West, smelling his sweat and the fresh air. I feel so...normal.
Good
normal. But Stick texted yesterday to let us know he’d be back soon, so this can’t last much longer.

As if reading my thoughts, West drops his arm and nods back toward the trail, indicating that we should head back. I fall into step next to him, though three of my strides probably equal two of his. When we reach more rocky parts of the trail, he steps ahead of me to find the best footing, then turns and points out to me where to step, occasionally offering his hand when I need it.

He points to the side of the trail and raises his eyebrows questioningly. Before, I would have described the tangle of branches we’re looking at as weeds, maybe shrubs, but now I decisively say, “Desert willow.”

West nods happily. I laugh and take his hand—he looks so proud of me. It’s true that I lived in Vegas for many years without really experiencing any of the natural areas surrounding it.

“So, do you think you’ll be able to see Davis while he’s in town?” I ask, referencing a guy from his unit that he said was visiting soon.

“Hopefully. It’ll be strange to see him out of that context, I think. I hope he doesn’t just want to hit the casinos. Did I ever tell you about when he...?”

The rest of the way down the canyon, he tells me stories about the guys he served with until I have a clear picture of each one in my mind. By the time we reach the dirt parking lot, my shirt is completely sweated through. I pull it off and use it to wipe the sweat and dust from the rest of my body.

West has pulled off his own shirt off and starts the Tahoe without climbing in so that we won’t get blasted by hot air from the air conditioner. Once we feel it cooling off, we each get inside and shut our doors. The cold air pumping in rushes over my damp sports bra and I shiver a little as we pull onto the highway. West shuts off the AC and we open the windows, feeling the breeze hit our faces. I crank up the radio and loudly sing along to the Led Zeppelin song that’s playing.

Suddenly, I hear the car sputter and see a bit of smoke trail out of the hood. I glance toward West. He’s frowning, and checks his mirrors before pulling onto the shoulder. He pops up the hood, then shuts off the car. I glance at the clock. It’ll be getting dark soon, and we’re still a good half hour from home. He grabs his shirt from where he tossed it in the backseat and gets out of the car, wrapping it around his hand so he can open the hood without burning himself.

I watch him as he pushes the hood up, shielding his face from the smoke. The metal obscures him as I pull out my cell phone to make sure I get service. A couple bars. I watch the dark green of the hood, the fading light reflecting of off it and back into the car. It shuts, revealing West’s shirtless body. He wipes his hands on his shirt as he makes his way back to the driver’s side door.

“Everything OK?” I ask as he sits back down.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he replies, though there’s some tension around his mouth. “We’ll be fine to make it home, but I’m going to take it slow.” He starts the car and pulls back onto the highway. “Could you just dial Ratchet on my phone and then hand it to me?”

“Sure,” I say, taking his cell and tapping in Ratchet’s name.

“Hey, West,” his deep voice answers as I hold the phone to my ear.

“Oh, actually, it’s Olive, Stick’s sister. West just asked me to call you. Here he is,” I say, placing the phone on West’s ear, where he holds it with his right hand.

“Hey, could you meet me at Stick’s house in about forty minutes?” West asks, “I’m having a little car trouble.” I hear Ratchet’s voice mumbling on the other end, but can’t hear what he’s saying. “Yup. Yeah. Exactly,” West says, glancing sidelong at me a little, then hangs up the phone and hands it back to me. “Thanks.”

“You sure everything’s OK?” I ask.

“Yeah, I just need his help with the filter,” he says, smiling at me. “Unless you want to do it.”

“No, thank you,” I reply, “I’ll stick to mixing drinks.”

We drive slowly in the right lane the rest of the way back to the house. When we pull into the driveway, Ratchet is already sitting on the low front stoop, his bike parked out front.

“Thanks for meeting me,” West says.

“No problem,” Ratchet says. “Olive, you think you could excuse us?”

“It’s just going to be boring shop talk,” West adds.

“Sure, no problem,” I say, though I’m a little taken aback. “Have you had dinner yet? I’m marinating some chicken if you’d like some.”

“That’d be great,” Ratchet says. “Thanks.”

I walk inside as they walk over to the Tahoe. I peer out from the living room window, and see them bending over the hood together. It seemed like there was something they weren’t telling me.

Dumping my bag by the door, I head into the kitchen. I’m still in just my sports bra and don’t know if I have time to shower, so I head into my room and grab an old work out shirt and throw it on. Then I head out the sliding glass door and turn on the grill to heat it up. Back in the kitchen, I boil some water and take the chicken out of the fridge where it’s been marinating in a soy-based sauce. After I lay the chicken breasts carefully across the grill, I head inside to put the fresh corn in the pot of boiling water.

I feel too dirty to sit inside to eat, so I clean off the outdoor table next to the grill and set out a few candles and some silverware. West and Ratchet come inside just as I’m removing the corn from the pot.

“Smells good in here,” Ratchet comments. West grabs a fresh shirt from his room and they both wash their oily, black hands at the sink.

“Thanks. West, you mind checking the chicken?” I ask as I bring the corn outside.

A few minutes later, we’re chowing down around the table. That hike really made me hungry. “So, everything’s good with the car, then?” I ask again.

“Yup, just needs a new filter,” Ratchet says. “Might have to keep it at the shop for a few days. Stick goes away and you wreck his car, West,” he adds jokingly.

Ratchet’s a lot nicer than I thought, based on his stern appearance. Soon he’s telling me about his two daughters, and asking if I’m available to babysit for his nephews. We each have a couple beers, and two hours later, he hits the road. West cleans the grill as I rinse the plates off and put them in the dishwasher. He walks in just as I’m shutting it.

“You look like you could use a shower,” he says, with mock disapproval. Suddenly he jumps toward me and scoops me up, slinging me over his shoulder. He slaps my ass and I shriek in protest as he carries me down the hallway. He kicks the bathroom door open and leans over to turn the water on.

“West, don’t you dare!” I squeal, but he deposits me in the tub as the still-cool water rains down on me, and my clothes.

“You’re a dirty girl,” he shrugs, barring my way out of the tub. I try to dodge around him, but he blocks the whole space easily with his long arms.

“Fine,” I say, relenting and standing back in the shower. I start to peel my wet clothes off as he watches, smiling. When I’m standing in front of him completely naked, he pulls his own shirt off, undoes his belt, and takes off his pants and boxers, stepping out of them and into the shower. As he pulls the shower curtain closed behind him, I step into him, rubbing my hands over his hard abs. I watch as the droplets cascade down his face, clearing away the last of the dust from the trail.

“I always used to wonder about this, you know,” I confide.

“About what?” he says, closing his eyes.

“This,” I say running my hands along his bare torso. “You were always my older brother’s hot friend. I always just felt like some dumb kid around you.”

“I remember when we wouldn’t let you play with us,” he says with a grin. “We had that boys-only clubhouse.”

“You still have a boys-only clubhouse. The
Widowmaker
s,” I point out.

“Oh, yeah,” he realizes, and throws his head back with a laugh. I run my fingers along the muscles of his neck.

“And do you remember when you kissed me?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

“Before you left, you mean?” he asks. So he does remember. “I think it went something like this...” He opens his eyes and leans down to kiss me. I get the exact same feeling of butterflies in my stomach that I did all those years ago as he tenderly touches his lips to mine.

Standing on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, running my hands through his wet hair as the water pours down on us. I feel his dick harden between us and I move my hands down to his back and pull myself against him, rubbing my hips against his cock. He lightly bites my lip and runs his hands over my ass. I’ve got a surprise for him later tonight, but right now all I want is to have him in my mouth.

I kiss down his neck, slowly making my way down his chest, his hair slicked down in the water. I kneel, and continue down the defined line between his abs, following the trail of curly hair. When I reach his cock, I brush my lips against its tip, teasing him. I flick my tongue softly against his head, and he groans in response, his cock stiffening even further. I take him all the way inside my mouth, until I can feel him at the back of my throat. I watch him grit his teeth, leaning his arm against the cool shower tile for support. His head dips back as he slips his fingers through my wet hair.

Working my mouth up and down his cock, I cups his balls, ticking them with my fingertips. I circle his head firmly with my tongue, flicking it back and forth across his sensitive underside. I move up and down his shaft a little faster, massaging his balls more firmly. His head dips forward and his eyes open. He watches me, lips parted.

“Now touch yourself, too,” he commands, his voice low and hoarse. I pause, and pull my head back slightly. “Do it,” he urges me. “I want to watch you.”

Slowly, I move my hand down between my legs, spreading my knees a little bit wider. I tentatively rub my fingers over my clit. His eyes widen excitedly, and I’m encouraged. I begin to move my hand faster, trying to recall what I do when no one’s watching. I feel pleasure at my own touch, and pleasure at the awareness that what I’m doing is turning him on. I feel his cock pulse in my mouth as he groans. I look up at him and his eyes are shut again, his jaw is tight. I suck hard on his dick, and he shouts, releasing himself in my mouth. I lick up the last of his seed, and gently kiss him before standing up.

“Damn, Olive,” he murmurs, leaning against his arm as he catches his breath. “Allow me to return the favor,” he says, grabbing my hips.

“Well, actually, I was thinking maybe we could try...
you
know,” I say blushing.

He frowns for a moment, confused, and then his eyes light up. “You sure? I don’t want to push you.”

“Yeah. I mean, I liked the beads,” I say bashfully.

“I promise we’ll take it really slow,” he says, kissing my mouth softly. “Come on.” He pulls the shower curtain aside.

“Wait!” I laugh. “I haven’t even shampooed my hair!”

“Oh, right,” he replies smiling wide.

We lather each other up as nerves and excitement build in my stomach. I’ve never had anal sex before, but I’ve also never been with anyone that I feel as comfortable with as West. Or someone with whom I’ve had such amazing sex, for that matter. It’s a weird combination—or a natural one, I don’t know.

We towel off in silence, then West takes me by the hand and leads me into his bedroom. It still feels a bit odd for me to be in here because it used to be Stick’s bedroom, but West has everything set up differently, and we’ve spent the night in here a few times in the last couple weeks. He shuts the door, even though we’re the only ones home, and walks toward me. He smiles at me, slowly unwrapping my towel and tossing it on his desk chair. He pulls me to him and kisses me. The scents of soap and his signature musk fill my nostrils, turning me on and easing my nerves.