Rock (Hard Rock Harlots #4) (4 page)

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o headlights document
our criminal activity as we climb the metal fence and hop onto the playground. It’s part of an elementary school, which makes the fun we’re about to embark on even dirtier.

Shades and I stick to the shadows as best we can, just in case. Once my eyes adjust to the darkness, I make out a swing set, a seesaw, a couple of slides connected by a series of crawl tubes, and monkey bars. So many opportunities for great sexual cardio here, I’m not sure where to start.

I snap my hands to my hips. “You ever done it on a seesaw?”

Pretty sure Shades smiles. “First time for everything.”

Next thing I know, my sexy cop herds me to the dubious metal contraption, shoves me face down atop the fulcrum, and lifts my skirt.

Except the fulcrum is just that, and my balance right now isn’t the best. The metal plank wobbles and strains to find equilibrium. In the process, my nose takes another hit, and I yelp. “Fuck!” I grab my schnoz and hop around like I’m dancing on hot coals.

“Shit. Sorry, pussycat.” He tries to soothe me by pulling me close, but my face plants itself against one of his shirt buttons, and more pain ensues. Fuck, if I didn’t break my nose before, I probably did now.

“Goddamn it!” My head pops up and butts his by accident. His hand flies to his cheek. “Aww, Christ. Are you okay?”

Cupping his nose, he says, “Maybe the seesaw’s not the best idea. Let’s try the slide instead.” He shakes off and guides me over that way.

I execute a saucy boob jiggle despite the freshly throbbing ouchie. “How about I slide into home? You gonna knock my pussy out of this world with your cock, or do I need to go down head first with my mouth wide open?”

He quirks a brow. “Mmm. I kinda like the mouth thing. For warm-ups.”

“Then I suggest your hand gets busy coaxing the trouser snake from its den. I’m coming for him.” I swing around the nearest pole and climb the ladder to the top of the slide. On the way up, a red alert flares in my brain’s frontal lobe:
You sure you want to do this with a busted nose?
Hmm. Probably not one of my wisest ideas, but fuck it. You only live once. I get horizontal, tits down, and yell, “You ready for me?”

“I was born ready for you. Come and get it, pussycat.” The three thumps following must be his dick banging the metal like the clapper on a dinner bell.

“Yee-haw!” I launch forward, feet up in the air. Down I go, warming the slide with friction and body heat and the promise of the hearty cock roast that’ll soon be melting in my mouth.

Bombs away!

Shades waits for me at the bottom, squatting at an awkward angle, wielding his dick. “That’s it, baby. Right here.” He scoots left, then right, then left again as if he’s trying to anticipate my trajectory.

I open wide. The closer I get to the bottom, the faster I go, until …

CRASH!

I barrel into him with my gaping mouth. Shades loses his balance. The impact knocks him backward. I gag and choke as I’m impaled, and my jaw reacts by clamping shut. On his cock.

He howls, and I hock up a slab of raw man meat. “Shit!” I didn’t bite it off, but I probably bruised it pretty good. He contracts into a fetal position, clutching his nuts and probably trying really hard to hold onto his dinner too. I sit up. We’re both covered in wood chips, some of which took up residence in my mouth. I spit splinters out and reach for him. “Let me see.”

Knees to his chin, Shades rolls on the ground like an overturned cockroach, moaning, huffing, cursing. I know I’m a terrible person for this, but it’s hard for me not to laugh, especially since I’m still a little mad at him. I mean, I get the whole I’m-trying-to-figure-out-what-the-hell-is-happening-with-this-kid thing, but it serves him right for fucking another woman, even if it
was
a year ago and we weren’t together at the time.

God, I’m hormonal.

And no, this is not my biological clock ticking. It’s like sperm competition. Except the opposite. Egg competition? Minus the testicular fertilizer, maybe.

No, it’s not hormones or egg competition. It’s jealousy.

Which is ridiculous. I’ve never been jealous of anyone. No reason to be. Look how fucking awesome I am!

I tame Shades’s fauxhawk with a gentle pat. Jeez, I gotta pull my head out of my ass about this crap. I love Shades. The rest shouldn’t matter. “You okay?”

“I think God cursed us,” he ekes out between pants.

“What, for trying to get it on at a playground?” I laugh. Well, if there ever was a reason to go to hell, shooting your load all over a place where little kids conduct their black market candy activities
might
be a good one. But it’s not like we planned to leave any presents wrapped in coital fluids in someone’s desk or anything. “Fuck that. Third time’s the charm. Get your ass up, and let’s try the swings.”

“You’re killing me, Letty.” He rolls to his side and takes his sweet time sitting up.

“Focus on the heady combination of pleasure and pain.” I stand and dust the wood chips from my skirt; then I tilt my kilt up and slide the thong left so he can mentally snap a close-up of my cooch.

He fixates on my chakra of power. I grasp the edge of the fabric’s pleats, pumping a couple of times, and fan some of my scent his way. He dives his face into me. I commandeer a fistful of hair and use it as a rein to ensure he gets me just right. Little to the left … ah. THERE.

His studded tongue roughs my clit for a few exaggerated breaths. I tighten my grip and guide his head, signaling him to go slower. Bowing at my feet, he dips into my slit with the gentle sincerity of an apology. He diddles around those sugar walls with long, sated laps. He’s anything but sated, but he knows he’d better obey me if he wants his way later.

My thighs spread wider to give him deeper access. I rest my back against one of the slide’s supports, pull up a leg, and let him feast. Kisses sound off down there, and I imagine we’re christening the stage as we usually do before a big gig, except this time, the performance isn’t just for Shades. It’s for Eliza too. I wish she were here so I could prove to her Shades is all fucking mine.

It takes everything I’ve got to keep from grinding my cunt hard enough to suffocate him. This delicate balance between rough and soft, hard and light, fast and slow is one we’ve walked for months. Usually, there’s urgency to our fucking. We’re trying not to get caught in an alley or a beach or a parking lot somewhere. I don’t know if it’s the uniform tricking me into believing we’ll be safe if someone busted us, or the beaten-down emotions that lost access to the usual fears, but right now, splayed against a slide on a kids’ playground with Shades munching my carpet, I feel … conquered. Like I finally gave in to something I fought all my life to resist.

Does this man have any idea how much he means to me? How much I need him? Shades is the human version of The Rock. He holds me together. If I lose him …

Shit.

I don’t like being afraid. I hate the loss of control. The forced submission. The helplessness.

Right now, I fear the unknown, breathing against the back of my neck, teeth taunting my skin with frightening promises, threatening to claim my last breath. I can’t … I won’t …

I shove Shades away.

Can’t deal with warmth and sweetness and sensitivity. I need the hard fuck that leaves me sore and walking funny for a week. I need the fuck that fritzes out my brainwaves and renders me so dick-drunk, I can’t form coherent words. I need the fuck that proves beyond a doubt that I’m his and he’s mine and nothing or nobody will ever come between us.

In other words, I need a really angry fuck.

“What’s wrong?” Shades says, cupping his dick.

I leave him for the swings.

“What’d I do, Letty?” Exasperation hollows his voice.

Unhooking the links at the top of the vertical bar, I ignore him and raise the seat to crotch level. Then I saddle up. “Push me,” I say, grasping the chains on either side.

Shades stomps behind me, cock lolling like a golden retriever’s tongue from the mouth of his fly, and gives me a shove. He’s probably done with my emotional outbursts, but he doesn’t say anything.

In a couple minutes, I’m flying high with Shades’s help. The wind puffs up my skirt, putting my vag on display for anyone with night-vision goggles to see.

“Are you gonna talk to me or what?” he asks. His hands warm my back with another push. I fly, legs splayed forward, then I pull them in for the return flight.

Push. Fly. Push. Fly. Push.

“You’re my rock,” I confess. “The only one I depend on besides myself. If you let me down …”

Push. Fly.

Thud.

Forward momentum stops suddenly, but two arms wind around my front and keep me from flying off the seat. Stomps of boots over dirt sound off. A warm body enfolds mine from behind. He stumbles with me, protective, holding on tight.

The swing spins, and he stares down at me, clutching the chains, lifting me toward his lips. “I will
never
let you down.”

I swallow. “Not even if it comes to choosing me over her? Over
them
?”

He holds me steady. “Never.”

That’s what I needed to hear. I toss my arms around his neck and attack him. My legs curl around his hips, putting him in an ass-lock. “Fuck me, Shades,” I gasp between bites and pain-filled nose bumps. “Fuck me so hard, you break me.” I wrestle him for control of the chains, but he won’t budge. “Slam this pussy full of cock, and fill it with cum until I’m brimming with you. I need you on me, in me, owning me. Prove how much you love me. Prove you’ll never leave me. Prove you’re mine.”

I fumble for his bruised wang and stuff it inside. His head tips back with a howl of agony as my pussy lips clamp around him and imbibe in the fruits of his sore labors.

“Yeah, embrace that pain, motherfucker. Own it like you own me.” I slap his face and redirect his attention to my tits with an upward tug of my shirt. I shove his mouth to a nipple. Enraged, he sucks so hard, the bud goes numb.

Nailed to the swing seat and trying my damnedest to get gravity and physics to comply with my needs, I rock and thrust and flail. Hunting for the orgasm I know is nearby, I let the rest of my anger out through my words.

“Tell me the truth, Shades.” I yank his head up. “Look me in the eyes and tell me the goddamn truth.”
Thrust. Bang. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What do you want to do about this tour? No lies.”
Squeeze. Kick. Slam.

He stops forward movement.

“Don’t you dare stop fucking me, asshole. What about the tour?” I prompt him into motion with a tight hip swivel, and he returns to work with a grunt.

His face contorts. “I think we should join the Get Your Rock Off Tour.”

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” I demand.
Lunge. Drive. Plunge.
Oh fuck, I’m close.

“You know why.”
Stab. Jab. Spear.

“Don’t beat around the bush.” I laugh at the irony of beatings and bushes in our current context.

He grabs two handfuls of tits and squeezes the lust out of them. I cry out.
Slap, slap, slap
he goes, then he sinks his teeth into one. “Fuck me … Jesus fucking Christ …” Here it comes. “Say it, asshole, or I’ll hose your fucking face and drown you in squirt juice.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he mumbles into my neck. “I need you to be happy so I can be happy. Whatever it takes.”

I pull away and stare at him with a smile. “Even if it means a billy club up your ass?”

“Especially with the billy club.” He laughs, tilts his head to the night, and yells, “I fucking love you, Letty Dillinger!”

Sweet mercy. That’s my dude.

I slide my hand to my pussy and flick the shit out of it. I push my pelvic floor with all the rage coursing through me. The tap opens. A rush of clear fluid spurts. I angle my hips upward and let fly my sexual battle cry. “I. Am. Letty. Dillinger. Fear my squirts!”

Maniacal laughter bounces out of me from the deepest depths of my soul. God, it feels good to let go. Shades pulls out and cunt-smacks me with his swollen cock until the shower turns into a dribble. He drops and dives into my pussy, snagging some leftovers. His dark moan vibrates my excruciatingly sensitive water fountain. Goddamn it, I love the way his tongue stud works my clit. I rub the juice into my skin, draw pictures with it on his cheek, and slip it into his mouth on my index finger. He suckles as he stares up at me, face freshly showered, hair soaked. Again.

He didn’t come. If I were to ask, he’d say he didn’t have to. I got what I needed and so did he.

I kneel before him and devour his cock, savoring the subtle tang of my pussy. His knees buckle, but I hold him steady. This flesh rocket took a beating earlier. I guess I’ve forgiven Shades for stuff that isn’t his fault, so I’m gentle. A caress of tongue up the underside of his shaft. Swirls around the head. Tender slurps. Ball licks.

Looking at him, I feel a little bad for getting so mad at him. I’ve been playing emotional pinball since my last squirt, and he’s probably got whiplash from tracking my wildly swinging ups and downs. It’s not his fault I’m a jealous bitch or that he has a fucking hot-as-lava ex-wife. Hell, if I weren’t with him, I’d probably bang that Betty myself.

His posture slackens as he eases toward the inevitable fall. I stroke him for a few beats. “I want your cum right here.” I aim the head at my mouth. He smiles.

I fondle his balls with one hand while the other twists around his shaft like a corkscrew on a mission to pop open a bottle of white. His sac tightens, his eyes fuzz out, and he cups my chin as molten, thick cream jets across my taste buds. With hard pulls, I coax every last drop onto my tongue.

When he stops quaking and I’m sure I got it all, I open wide so he can see how full he filled my cup. Then I make an exaggerated show of swallowing his love. “Mmm, mmm, mmm …” I dab at the corners and lick my fingers clean.

Shades drags me to my feet and launches an attack on my face. I wince, anticipating a collision with my very sore nose, but he brings out the soft weapons this time. Slowing breaths over pebbled skin. Deep inhales through cum-tinged kisses. Barely there drags of knuckles across the flood between my legs.