Текст книги "Memphis Black"

Автор книги: M. J. Fields

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“I really have to go.”

“I like the way you smell,” he mumbles. “I want you to sleep …” His eyes close, and he starts falling to one side.

I help him lie down, then pull his boots off, lifting his feet and placing them on the couch. I watch him for longer than I should, but he is just so beautiful I can’t help myself.

Finally, regretfully, I turn and walk out the door, making sure it locks behind me. Then I put the key back and run across the street, hoping my parents never noticed I was gone.

I look in the mirror one last time. I have on a black hat, white tank, black jeans, and boots. With no time for a fucking haircut as the crazy-ass opening act for the Burning Souls tour, the hat is a must.

It’s been like this for a year. Roll out of bed and over whatever piece of ass I snatched to bring back to the bus or hotel room the night before. Roll my ass to the gym because—let’s face it—I need to look good naked. Even though there is a no cell phone or camera rule after one of the bitches posted my morning wood on social media, shit could still happen. Thank the stars my dick is impressive, and that mighty oak held that sheet up like a boss. Next, we roll to wherever we’re rehearsing, roll to sound checks, roll to an interview or two, roll back to the stage and rock and roll for an hour. There’s not nearly enough time to play everything we have.

“Hello, New Jersey!” I hold the mic out for the crowd’s roar, and hell yes, they give me exactly what I want. “I am Memphis Black, lead singer and guitarist extraordinaire for Steel Total Destruction!”

Still can’t explain the buzz I catch off the roar from the crowd. It’s like a spiritual erection, a transcendent orgy to my soul, a divine intervention within every cell of my body.

“You ready for some STD? You ready to get rocked so hard you can’t walk straight for a week?”

There’s that noise again: the screams, the shouts, the lust for our music … and for us.

“I like the way you sound.” I look off stage to see Xavier pointing and scowling. Aw, for fuck’s sake, I growl inside. “Get ready, ladies—”

“Prepare yourselves,” Finn interrupts, and then the fucking condom cannons jizz all over the crowd.

As they scramble around, screaming and grabbing the fucking condoms like little crack whores, River spanks the drums. The crack and pop of the snare proceeds Finn’s finger banging the G and L Tribute, and I begin singing our first hit song, “Going Down.”

The crowd screams, and the girls in the front row dance, trying to gain my attention. I see a blonde with a nice rack, and I wink. She freaks and points to herself, so I wink again as I continue singing. Then I turn my attention elsewhere; she needs to work for it, and by work for it, I mean show me some damn titties or I’m gonna look elsewhere.

An hour later, I am sweating balls, quarter chubbed, and we are heading off stage.

“No shit.” I hear a smile in Finn’s voice, must be Christmas. I look up as he says, “Maddox fucking Hines.”

“No shit,” I say, just as shocked.

“Which one? Big tits at two o’clock or tiny titties, big ass at four, or the others? ” our road manager asks, nodding to the group of girls lined up like a dessert buffet.

“Thanks, Sleazy D, but I think I’m gonna hang out and watch the show. Maddox never plays with his Dad’s band anymore. I wanna see if he’s as good as his old man.”

“Are you serious?” he gasps.

Finn pats him on the back and points. “A fucking legend has returned to stage; do you think he’s kidding?”

“Great set, gentleman,” T, the drummer for Burning Souls, says as he pats my back while walking by. “Let’s hit this shit, Hines,” he yells back.

“That his wife?” River asks as we all stand, watching Maddox pull a blonde chick hard against him.

“Yeah, fucking hot, too.” I shake my head. “But why the hell get bogged down at the beginning of your career, then walk away?”

“Everyone has a story, man,” Finn says. “Google it. Unreal.”

River snickers. “I’d bang her like a fucking bass.”

Maddox Hines’s head snaps right, and he steps back, but his wife catches his hand and shakes her head.

“Sweetness,” he growls.

“Get out there and show me you haven’t lost it.” She blushes.

He smirks. “You know I haven’t.”

Then she whispers something in his ear, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s on.” He pulls back and then walks at us. “Say one thing about her, and I’ll hear it, even on that stage. I will—”

“Maddox.” His wife is next to him instantly.

“Mine,” he growls at us before kissing her, then walking on stage.

“Hello, New Jersey!” Maddox yells to the screaming crowd. “This is one hell of a crowd to end the Burning Souls US tour. Thanks for coming out tonight! Feels like déjà vu. It was only three years ago I stood here on this very stage at Bader Field, doing the same damn thing: ending one hell of a tour!”

The crowd screams. They love it.

“Did you miss me? Of course you did. I missed you, too!”

“Sorry about that.” His wife smiles at us, then quickly walks to a stool that is obviously purposely set just off stage and sits.

A dark-haired chick almost skips past us to her side, and they hug then begin singing.

I notice Maddox look at her, and apparently, he likes that her friend is present. I kind of like it, too. She has a nice, round ass.

“Squats.” I nod.

“Definitely.” Finn, River, Billy, and Sleazy laugh.

Being backstage, watching the Burning Souls, is different than being on stage myself. There is electricity, a current surging invisibly in the air, connecting everyone together, including us. I felt that same electricity when I went to my first concert as a kid. Hell, I was only, like, ten. Pearl Jam.

The crowd didn’t come to see us; they came to see them. They got us as a little added bonus.

As Burning Souls play their asses off, I’m having fun, even singing along. I know their sets just like I know my own. Don’t get me wrong, Steel Total Destruction is better. Well, okay, maybe different is a better choice of words.

“I wanna end tonight with a song that changed my life, a song I hope will change yours, too. When you find that one person who can make you want to spend the rest of your life with them, hold on to them. When you feel that pull, that force that is greater than you, embrace it, follow it. Life changing events can happen when you finally let someone in.”

“Fucking pussy whipped,” I mumble.

“Did you see his wife? I’d let that pussy whip me.” River grabs his dick. “Any fucking day. Her and that little piece next to her.”

“To each their own man,” Finn says as Maddox Hines begins to sing “Stained.”

Waves crash like thunder.

I run.

Inside my mind,

I run.

The sea’s grand reflection opens the warmth,

Undone, undone,

Reflecting the love, my soul.

Burning inside my soul,

The sea whispers softly, no longer hide.

Don’t hide, don’t hide, don’t hide, don’t hide.

Washed away by the sea’s calm,

Nurtured by the wind, the sound of her song.

The breeze gently holds me high.

The weight’s lifted up to the sky

Elevated, raised, floating up high.

What remains is a stain, just a stain, a stain.

Lips touching softly on mine, hidden desperations,

An island of questions, my pride.

My pride, my pride, my pride.

The phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to see it’s my sister Madison, so I push ignore. Hell, I wish I had that ability growing up.

Twenty seconds later, it goes off again.

911, call me now

I walk away to call her back, expecting the worst.

“Memphis,” she whispers.

“Mads, what’s going on? Mom and Dad—”

“They’re fine. It’s Tally.”

“Did they get the flowers I sent to the service?”

“Her dad died, like, two months ago.”

“So what’s the problem, Mads?”

“I want to bring her with me to—”

“Oh, hell no.” I laugh. “Can you even imagine her hanging out with the band?”

“She needs to get away. If she can’t come, then I’m not coming, either,” she huffs the threat.

“All right then. See you next—”

“Memphis!” she screams in the phone.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mads, fine. Whatever. Just don’t expect me to hang out with her.” She starts to argue, but I don’t give her the chance. “I’m at my last show, Mads. Chat in a couple days.”

I shove my phone back in my pocket just in time to hear the last chorus.

***

Last night, we actually crashed at our place for the first time in as long as I can remember. It was actually nice to dive into my bed—alone—and sleep.

Sleep? Hell, is it possible? A one year’s tour has ended, a year of traveling across country, spreading STD everywhere. It was a fucking dream come true. Record sales were good, and we were getting airtime on local radio shows and satellite radio.

We rode coattails. It’s never been my style, but the opportunity to do so was sick. So, last night, as I lay in my king size bed, butt-ass naked with the fan blowing across my freshly showered body, I couldn’t stop the shit-ass grin from spreading across my face.

I cannot believe it. I’m a fucking rock star, bitches!

Now, we sit back at headquarters, Forever Four, and wait for Xavier and Nickie D. For once, we’re on time, and they are late.

“I can’t wait to get away. Need some inspiration,” Finn says as he links his hands behind his head.

“And a razor.” River smirks.

“Fuck that,” Finn grumbles, running his hands over his beard.

“Lumber-sexual,” Billy says, and we all look at him like he’s lost it. “Read it somewhere.”

The door opens, and X-man walks in with Nickie D behind him.

“You’re late,” I say smugly.

“We were on an important call,” Xavier says as he sits down with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You ready to do this without Burning Souls?”

“Fuck yes—”

“After a vacation, I hope,” Billy interrupts. Again, we look at him like he has three fucking heads. “Never wanted in to start.”

“You like it, and you know it, Billy-boy. Stop acting like this isn’t the greatest fucking thing you’ve ever done in your life.” I laugh, and he looks at me. “Come on, man, tickling the ivory then whatever piece of ass you want after.”

“I am a pianist,” he states blankly, “not a rock star.”

We all look up as Taelyn Steel slides in and shuts the door behind her. “You love it, and you know it, Billy.”

“Okay, bottom line”—Xavier stands up—“opening for Burning Souls was an amazing opportunity for Steel Total Destruction.” He tries to look annoyed whenever he says the band’s name, but I know better—hell, we all do. X-man is amused as hell by the band’s name. “But headlining your own tour is insane. It’s the difference between twenty-five K a show, which you get eighty percent of, split between four of you after expenses: gas, bus rental, crew, hotels, meals, and whatever incidentals you have. You each probably made seventy K for the year—”

“That’s a shit load of money.” River rubs his hands together, and all I can think is, how much of that shit will you spend on candy?

“It’s really good.” Xavier nods. “But do you want more?”

“Who doesn’t want more? Hell, show me the dough, bro.” I laugh.

Instantly, everyone is in hell-yes-we-do mode.

“Irish,”-Xavier’s nickname for Taelyn-. “Nickie, and I have lined up a fifteen city tour. The lowest paying gig is two hundred K; highest is two hundred fifty K. That means three million dollars. A million will—”

“What the hell did you just say?” River gasps.

“Fifteen city tour,” Xavier says, looking at him.

Finn looks at him suspiciously. “No, man, after that. The money.”

“Three mil.” Nickie D smirks. “That’s saying no one backs out. Contracts are on their way as we speak.”

“Fifteen percent stays here,” Xavier interjects. “Expect twenty percent to be used for expenses. Merchandise will be split fifty-fifty after expenses. My guess is you’ll each make about five hundred K after all is said and done.”

“Holy fuck! Holy motherfucking fuck!” River says what we are all thinking.

“If that gets you excited, man, understand that isn’t shit compared to what record sales can be if you get your asses writing.” Xavier looks at River. “And stay fucking sober.”

“Like you did for Burning Souls tour,” Taelyn interjects, making a point to her husband about River’s ability to keep his shit together for the tour.

“I know you’re all heading down to vacay in Miami for a while, but you need to be writing music, too, not just getting laid. You catch me?” Nicki D says sternly. “The more we have out, the better sales are, and the better sales—”

“More money, baby.” I high-five Nickie.

“More money.” He grins.

My father passed away from a heart attack four month ago. In that time, I have watched Mom, the grieving minister’s wife, go from singing his praises in front of the congregation he led for more than fifteen years before the Lord Jesus Christ took him home, to a sobbing mess who is trying to figure out what to do next when she thinks I am asleep.

After his death, I spent spring break helping her pack up the parsonage, where we had lived there my entire youth. His church family adored him and whenever there was talk about moving us to another church, they fought to keep him here

“No, honey, that belongs to the church,” she would say as she took pots and pans out of the boxes I was packing them in. Then the same was said for the knives, the plates, the forks, even the furniture.

“This is all you have?” I asked, as I looked at the seven boxes that contained fifteen years of personal property collected between her and my father.

She smiles. “That’s more than I’ll need.”

Once in the tiny, furnished apartment, we put away those seven boxes, and she was right. In a five hundred square-foot apartment, she would not be able to fit much more.

Today, I look around my side of the empty, shared dorm room. One year under my belt at Julliard was much more than I had ever dreamed or prayed for. One year of instruction in classical ballet, I think as I open the dresser drawers one more time to make sure I haven’t left anything more behind.

I won’t be coming back.

I feel tears prick my eyes, and I push them back. I don’t want my mother to see that this is bothersome to me. She has already offered to pay next year’s tuition with the money from my father’s very small life insurance policy he had from working at the church. However, I refused because that is all she has. That and a social security check that would just barely pay for the rented one bedroom apartment she just moved into and her health insurance premium.

I sit on the bed, looking out the window of Meredith Willson Residence Hall and onto the rooftop of the connecting building that is the school I love so much. Then I stand up and walk to the door when I hear a knock. It’s my mother; I know it is. I hold my head against the cool, metal frame and take in a deep breath as I try to brace myself for what may come.

I open the door to find she is spreading fake sunshine through a smile. Her graying hair is piled in a perfect bun on top of her head, and she is dressed in an ankle length skirt and long sleeve, button up in May, perfectly proper.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, giving her a hug that I know she needs.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her voice hitches, and I hug her tighter.

“I’m so sorry about this, Tally. All of it. I—”

“Mom.” I give her back the sunshine as I throw my backpack over my shoulders and grab my large, wheeled suitcases. “I had a fantastic year. It just wasn’t in the plans.”

“God has big things in store for you,” she says, as she grabs the duffle that has all my dance gear in it.

“I know, Mom,” I tell her as I hold the door open.

We get to the KIA, and she gets in the driver’s seat.

“You sure, Mom? I can drive.”

“No, sweetheart, I have to do these things now.” She pauses and swallows down her emotions.

“I really don’t mind,” I say as I load my bags in the tiny back seat.

“I’m okay,” she says, and then the dam breaks.

When I walk over and open the driver’s door, she gets out, and I slide in.

“I’m sorry, Tally.” She grabs the small purse size packet of Kleenex and then blows her nose.

“Don’t be, Mom. I understand.”

The entire time we drive through the city, she has a white-knuckle grip on the oh-shiz handles: one on the dash and the other over the door. I am careful not to scare her too much, though. I know how she hates city driving. Heck, she hates driving period.

Once we make it through the tunnel and head toward Jersey, she begins to relax a little.

“I should really skip the walk. I should really stay home.”

Mom is going on a weeklong Christian women’s retreat with some of the ladies at church. It’s supposed to bring her closer to God. I hope, when she gets close enough, she can ask Him why He took Dad and left her penniless.

“The walk will do you good, Mom.”

Sunshine, always spreading sunshine.

“You can stay, you know. You don’t have to go with Madison and her family to Florida, sweetheart. It’s so hot there this time of year.”

I swallow back the guilt I feel for the little white lie I told her. I am going to stay with Madison, but her parents will not be there. Madison and I still talk all the time, and I certainly can’t wait for a two-week vacation with her on the beach in south Florida. I need some healing time myself.

I will definitely be entertained.

After unpacking my bags from the car, Mom makes me a peanut butter and homemade strawberry rhubarb jelly sandwich—my favorite from childhood.

She grabs the step stool and reaches above the cabinet for a coffee can and sets it in front of me. “There is four hundred dollars for you to—”

“No, Mom, I have—”

“There is four hundred dollars, Tally. I won’t take no for an answer. I want you to have fun, to be able to buy lunch or a pop when you’re on the beach, sunscreen, or whatever you need.”

“You need this, Mom.” I try to push the can back toward her.

“No. I need to do this for you, Tally. Let me.”

***

I land at Miami International Airport at eleven p.m. with my bag over my shoulder and a carry-on in my hand. Madison’s flight lands just fifteen minutes after mine.

Not needing to collect my bags from the carousel, I walk over and sit to wait. After half an hour, I look at the screen to see that her flight from South Bend Airport is delayed an hour.

I look at my phone, seeing I still have it set to airplane mode. Once I switch it, I see that I have several missed calls and texts from Madison.

I redial her number and she answers. “What a bunch of fucking shit!”

I laugh at her.

“I just want to get out of this hell hole. I can’t wait to see you.”

“It’s no problem, Madison. I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are. I’m gonna text Memphis and—”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot to tell you. We’re staying with the band.” She says it so nonchalantly it’s as if I wouldn’t be bothered by it. “You still there?”

“Yes.”

“Are you mad?”

“Not mad, just wish I had known.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what their schedule was, honestly.”

“Honestly,” I say dryly, hoping she knows I am not buying it.

“I was hoping we’d see them. Hell, last time I saw my brother was on stage. Come on, chin up, Tally. When’s the last time you saw Memphis?”

I feel my face flush and am thankful no one sees my embarrassment. “A long time ago.”

“Well, I am waiting for him to message me back. I asked him to go pick you up.”

“NO! I can wait for you.”

“Nonsense, Tally. Who the hell knows when the plane will take off? Neither of us wants you sleeping in the airport.”

“Where are we staying?” I can’t believe I didn’t ask that before.

“85 Palm Avenue, Miami Beach. Google it, Tally. We are living it up for two fucking weeks. Me, you, and let’s hope some hot, hot men in super tiny speedos that leave nothing to the imagination.”

I laugh. “Gross.”

“No, girlfriend. So very far from gross.”

We spent the day on the beach, drinks in hand, nearly molested by hot-ass babes sporting dental floss. There was little left to the imagination, very little. I got head in the ocean, which was a first, and now I am pretty confident the two chicks who have been eager for my attention are on board with going back to the beach pad with me, just me.

“You guys ready to head back?” I ask River, Finn, and Billy.

“Yeah,” Finn said as he links hands with the tiny, dark-haired chick he is hooking up with.

***

After four and a half hours of no-holds-barred fucking, all three of our bodies are sweat drenched. This little ménage was sating, entertaining, and no doubt tiring. No-holds-barred, I laugh to myself as I smack the little blonde’s ass and think, no holes were barred, either.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” she pants, expecting me to dive in again.

“Sorry, babe.” I slam the nightstand drawer shut. “I’m out of papa stopper.” I grab the towel off the floor, run it over my hair, grab my wallet, and then throw a hundred on the bed. “Thanks for a very memorable night. There’s some cab money. See you around.”

“Is he serious?” I hear the brunette whisper to the blonde.

“Yeah, he is.” She giggles. “He’s a fucking rock star; did you think we were going to stay over?”

“Guess not,” she huffs. “But honestly, the band’s name is STD, so I didn’t think he’d be worried about condoms.”

They giggle, talk about me and my impressive cock size, and how they can’t believe they did what they did, and did it together. I feel a grin spread across my face as I continue listening to them through the bathroom door. It’s almost as good as the applause I get from the sold out crowds we have been opening up for … almost.

When I hear the chick banter end, bedroom door shut, and I know they aren’t gonna have to get the eviction notice in order to leave, I turn on the water and hop in the shower. Exhausted or not, I’m going to bed smelling good, feeling clean, and changing the damn sheets. Hell, if I was back in Jersey, I would be flipping the mattress, too.

After my shower, I dry off, throw on a pair of basketball shorts, and strip the sheets. Then I grab the clean set from the linen closet and half-ass make the bed. No flat sheet is necessary until tomorrow when I’m not feeling a hellacious hangover looming.

I decide to head out to grab a drink and a couple Motrin before falling into a ten hour rest and recoup session.

I hear Finn and River talking and wonder if my chicks are bed hopping. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if they are.

“She’s fucking hot,” I hear River whisper. “Wonder who the hell left her out here alone.” I walk past them, sure as hell not interested. “She one of yours?” he asks me.

“If she was, she’s not now,” I reply, grabbing a bottle of water out of the bar’s mini fridge. “Motrin?”

“Look left. I just took some,” Finn answers.

As I open the bottle, I hear a female’s startled gasp. I glance over to where the noise came from and pause.

“We scare you?” River asks in his smooth, I’m-putting-the-moves-on voice.

“No. Oh, wow, I’m sorry. I just … Madison gave me the gate code, and the door was unlocked, and …” She stands up and fixes her shirt.

Holy hell, she’s a fucking knock out: long, wavy hair, green ass eyes, rocking body… damn, damn, damn.

The pajamas, fucking cartoon characters … Those little blue ones? The girl one, blonde hair … Fuck it. Who cares? That’s her.

“No shit,” I say in shock, which actually makes her laugh.

Now she is covering her mouth, blushing. I watch as she tugs at her shirt, then runs her hand through her hair.

“Sorry. She said she called.”

“Tally?” I know it’s her—same voice and nervous laughter—but hot damn. Hot motherfucking damn, she has all sorts of grown up.

“Hi, Memphis.”

“You know this sexy, little—”

“Watch it, River,” I growl. Shit. Maybe I didn’t … Dammit, I know I fucking did.

I look over and see Finn smirk.

“Friend of the family,” I say in a much more cool, calm, and collected voice. “Mads didn’t call me.” I grab another bottle of water and walk it over to her.

“She said it went to voicemail. Her flight was delayed.” She can’t even look at me, too busy twisting the bottom of that little tee in knots. My balls are doing the same thing.

Her phone chimes, and she looks down. “Cancelled? Oh, dear.”

“It’s fine. You’ll stay with me. She and you can catch up when she gets in.”

Before I know it, I have her hand and am dragging her behind me while I snarl at Finn, who is just about ready to bust out laughing. I stop when she tugs her hand away and looks back. She’s looking to escape, and those two fuckers are looking like that wolf, the one that wants to eat the little girl, and they aren’t going to eat her. Fuck that. I will kill them first.

Red Riding Hood. Yeah, that’s it. Little Red Riding Hood.

“If you think for one second I’m gonna leave you out for them to try and snack on, Tales, you have lost your fucking mind.” I hold out my hand. “Let’s go.”

She hesitates for a moment then grabs her bags and looks up at me. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll sleep in my room, just until Mads gets here. Then I will lock you both up somewhere.” I say it in a way I know makes her nervous, and hell, that’s kind of hot, too.

I grab her hand again and pull her behind me. She doesn’t fight me; she comes willingly.

I open the door and turn the light on, and all she can say is wow, her eyes wide and full of wonder.

My blood is pooling in a place it shouldn’t be right now, and I think of that green ogre chick, the one who’s a princess. Then all hell breaks loose, and she is a nasty green ogre. Fuck, Tales, you need to show me your inner, what’s her name? Fiona. Yeah, that’s her name. Shrek and Fiona.

“Nice, right? Hop in bed,” I say, pulling back the covers.

She looks at me all wide-eyed, and damn, damn, damn.

“Where will you sleep?” she asks.

“With you.”

Her mouth drops open, and I feel a little off. Not a lot, just a little.

“Is there a problem, Tales? Would you rather be out there where they—”

She shakes her head. “Okay. It’s just—”

“I will be a perfect gentleman.”

“You promise?” she asks, looking back and forth between the bed and me.

I point to the bed. “Like a slumber party.”

“Those two girls?” she asks and a slight frown traces her lips. “They came out of here.”

There isn’t a question in her voice, and I sure as hell can’t lie to her after she saw them. “They left. Clean sheets.” I point to the dirty sheets pooled on the floor. “It’s been dealt with.”

She climbs in, and I am right behind her.

Once we’re settled in, I ask, “You comfortable?”

She pulls one of the pillows from the top and puts it in the middle. “I’m fine, and just remember, I’m not like them.”

“I know who you are, Tales.”

“Right.” She rolls to her side, facing away from me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask as I settle in next to … the pillow.

“Nothing. Thank you for the place to sleep, Memphis.”

“Of course. Sorry I didn’t get Madison’s message. Phone wasn’t charged.”

“But you knew she was coming?”

“Yep.” When I think about the statement, I know she is judging me for being, well, me. “It’s charging now.”

“She’ll text me when she gets in,” she says, tightening the blanket around her.

I let the quiet hang in the air like a fucking black cloud for as long as I can stand it then finally say, “Tales?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry about your father.”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

That statement seems like a big fuck you to me.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“He doesn’t know you didn’t come, Memphis.” She yawns. “Goodnight.”

I lie there, my body exhausted as it should be, but I can’t sleep, not with the way her scent is mixing with the smell of sex still in the air.

I slide out of bed, grab the dirty sheets and blanket, and toss them in the hallway, all with a fucking hard-on that I am sure is caused more by the sweet scent of lilac invading my senses than the already fading memories of my first threesome.

I lie next to her again, inches from her. I know the exhaustion and alcohol that is still mixed in my cells aren’t helping me right now, but fuck.

Her hair is almost waist length, and those waves are more inviting than any one of them I rode today. Her neck is long and slender, and I want so badly to run my tongue from right behind her ear, down her neck to her spine, and all the way down. I want to taste her so fucking much right now, and I don’t taste.

Her tight, little tee is hugging her body, and I am thankful she has her back to me because I would be testing the little restraint I have if her tits were staring me in the face. Her ass is like POW! She obviously works out. Hell, she’s a dancer, I think. Her ass was never POW! before, was it?

I run my hand over my face. What the fuck are you doing? I ask myself. She hadn’t even hit puberty the last time you saw her.

Well, fuck, that shit changed.

I glance back over at POW! My mouth waters, my dick gets a little harder, and then I see those legs: strong, lean, and long. They have two purposes: one, to wrap around my waist while I bang her against every wall in this room and the other to hold up POW!

I want to save her from every one of those fuckers out there who want a taste, and I want to eat her up. I want to make sure no one hurts her, and I want to wreck her, too. I want to do all that to the chick who had little nubs last time I saw her, the girl who still can’t handle a curse word, the girl I am sure was wearing a chastity belt that’s key went to the grave with her old man, but I can’t.

God help me survive the two weeks Mads is going to be here if Tales is going to be here, too.