So. Long(42)
This is true. What else do you like? Talk to me. Tell me how I could please you if we were together right now.
Another long pause, but eventually, her answer pops up on my screen.
I like it doggie style, but with a little twist.
Doggie is good. Twist? Care to elaborate?
My erection twitches in anticipation of learning her twist.
Wonder if she’s freaky. And if she is, just how freaky?
Her reply finally comes through.
It may not be a twist for some…but I like a little ass play. His thumb pumping at the back while the guy drives into me.
I tighten my hand around my shaft.
Fuck yeah—and I’m going to be the guy pumping her from behind. And she will definitely get my thumb while I drive into her slick pussy.
Damned dog.
I grab the leash hanging by the front door and head outside, hoping he’s not stolen more of Kelsey’s food—or worse.
It’s too early for this shit.
The one good thing about him pulling this crap first thing in the morning is that I can follow his tracks in the dew-covered grass.
Low whining leads me around Kelsey’s place to the far side of her house.
Spike has his front claws firmly dug into the side of a not so sturdy tree, looking up into its leaves. His forehead is wrinkled, and his bobbed tail wiggles almost as much as his ass.
“Spike, no.”
He tosses me a glance but diverts his attention to the kitten clinging to a branch barely a foot and a half from the tip of his nose.
He tries to jump, as though he thinks he too can climb the damned tree. Of course, if he ever managed to catch up with the cat, he’d have zero idea what to do with her.
I lunge for him, grabbing his collar before he scares Kelsey’s Chloe half to death. “Whoa, boy. I’m the only one chasing pussy around here.”
After I drag him to my yard, I push him through the gate and lead him to the large outdoor kennel I’ve set up in the corner, under a shade tree.
I slam the chain link gate before he can escape again. “You’re grounded.”
It takes a minute to get the kitten detached from the wood she’s dug her claws into, but I manage. As I carry her around Kelsey’s house, a loud cry comes from somewhere inside.
My muscles tense. I put the cat down. As my heart rate doubles, I sprint to the door and try the handle.
Fuck. It’s locked.
There’s another squeal—even louder.
My training kicks in, and my foot connects with the wood just below the knob. The door frame splinters under the second blow, and I push the door open.
“Kelsey!”
No one’s in the living room or the kitchen.
I rush down the hall, yelling. “Kelsey, answer me.”
As I barge into her bedroom, she pulls a towel tight across her naked body, her eyes huge.
My gaze darts around the room, looking for an assailant—the person who must’ve caused her to scream the way she did. But there’s no one here but her, all wrapped up in a fluffy white towel.
“What are you doing? And what was that sound?” She adjusts the clips holding her hair up in a disaster of a bun.
Even though my blood pressure is up, there’s apparently still enough blood to fill my cock.
“I said, what are you doing?” She props her hands at her waist.
“What are you doing? I heard you scream. Scared the fucking hell outta me.”
“I wasn’t screaming.” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
But I know what I heard. “You were. I thought someone was hurting you.”
Her cheeks turn bright red as she cringes. “Oh yeah. That.”
“That?” I step closer, again taking a sweeping glance around the room. “Was someone hurting you?”
Her shoulders droop. She shakes her head and closes her eyes like she’s suddenly exhausted. “I was trying to wax.”
“Wax?”
She throws up her hands. “A pox on Silky Handsome and all of her descendants to the fifth generation!”
A pox? Silky who? Fifth generation?
What the hell?
“Come again?” Maybe I’ve suddenly slipped into another dimension—or she’s lost her freaking mind.
“Silky Handsome and her waxing strips. They’re of the devil. Torturous devices designed to make a woman feel stupid. And they hurt like a motherfucker.”
Motherfucker?
Damn, girl’s got a mouth on her.
“Waxing strips?”
She lets out a huff. “Yes, waxing. You know? Like I’m waxing my cooter?”
“So, no one was hurting you?” I ask just to make sure I’m not missing something important. All this talk of cooters might be impairing my ability to think straight.
“Well, Silky Handsome wasn’t helping me.” She takes a giant step into her tiny bathroom and returns with a purple box, shaking it at the ceiling. “And who-the-fuck-ever bought these things to make them America’s number-one selling brand? A curse on them too.”