Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (17 page)

“Have fun, Sweet Pea.” Alys smiled.

“Thanks, Muffin.”

Brian rode a chopper. I didn’t really know much about bikes, but it was damn sexy. The handlebars were huge massive chrome fixtures spread high and wide apart. Weirdly, it made me think of the gynecologist and stirrups but whatever. Sparkly black, it was a custom-made machine, and gyno-inducing memories aside, it was pretty fucking hot. He handed me his helmet, a black cap with a chinstrap, and helped me secure it.

Then, he sat on the damn thing, and I totally got it. I climbed on behind him with his sweet ass against my crotch.

He glanced over his shoulder with a sweet grin. “Hold on to me tight, baby.”

Yes, sir!

My arms slid around his waist, and I relaxed into his back. Then, he took me on a fifteen-minute wild ride that thrilled me to my core—in more ways than one.

Brian’s home was in a newly developed neighborhood. His three-bedroom, two-bath house screamed of his hopes for one day having a family.

Oh, I am so ready for this! This guys is so gorgeous. Please don’t let him be shit in bed. Please don’t let me be shit in bed
.

Inside was a total bachelor pad with black pleather couches, metal and horror movie posters on the walls, and a huge CD collection I’d love to browse through once we were done bumping nasties. The TV was quite a large flat screen. Obviously, he made decent money. It was clean and well organized. It wasn’t like OCD or anything, but at least he took care of himself.

“You want anything to drink?” he asked, dropping his keys on a tall table next to the door.

“Water would be great. Thanks,” I replied, looking around.

Would Phil’s place look anything like this?

Why the fuck am I thinking of Phil? Go away, Phil.

A fat sausage roll on legs snorted its way over to me, waddling its chunky butt up, until practically sitting on my feet. I realized it was a dog when its mashed-in face split in half, and a fat pink tongue unrolled out of its mouth.

“That’s Bubba,” Brian told me from the kitchen as he filled a glass with ice and water. “He’s a complete ham.”

“He’s adorable!” I crooned at Bubba, getting to my knees and lovingly attacking the roly-poly.

Bubba flopped onto his side and rolled onto his back, wheezing and snorting with pure bliss.

Brian returned to the living room with two waters, patiently letting me get out my nervousness, while I smothered his poor dog with love. After a few minutes, I knew I had to stop and join him on the couch. I couldn’t let my nerves get to me. This guy had no clue that I hadn’t had sex since I was seventeen. I needed to play it cool.

Dropping into the seat next to him, I grabbed my water and took a few sips. As I set the glass back on the table, I located my mythical balls and looked at him.

He was just looking back at me, all sorts of gorgeous deliciousness. His smile was just so damn fine.

Then, he tackled me back on the couch. It was so hot—his hands and mouth all over me, grinding his hard-on against my crotch. It was like a full-blown teenage make-out session for about an hour on the sofa before he got up and dragged me to his bedroom.

We were both so hot and bothered for each other that we were ripping one another’s clothes off.

Hot, hot damn!

He was beautiful. His skin was nicely golden, telling me he spent a lot of time half naked in the outdoors, and his tattoos were just so badass, not a tribal tattoo in sight. They were just intricate works of art up his arms and a crow with wings outstretched across the whole of his chest.

Lovely.

By his sharp intake of breath when I was fully naked before him, he was just as impressed with me.

“Fuck, Kenna, you are gorgeous.” He moaned softly before grabbing my face and kissing me with some steamy passion. Pushing me back onto the bed, he asked, “How do you like it?”

My brain sort of drew a blank because I honestly had no clue.

“Uh…how do you want to do it?” I asked in an attempt to cover up my naiveté.

“I want to fuck the shit out of you and get the first one out of the way before getting…creative.”

Makes sense.
“Yeah, all right.”

He opened the drawer to the nightstand next to the bed and grabbed a condom. Standing above me, his eyes didn’t leave me as he ripped it open and rolled it over the impressive length of him.

Damn, he’s quite big.

Lowering himself between my thighs, he guided himself with one hand to my entrance and slowly started pushing in. I was very wet, but it had been six years
.
I was so tight, and for a second, I panicked.

Shit, it does grow back!

Arching my back, I hissed a little at the burning sting of it.

Brian went completely still. “Are you a virgin?”

Cracking up, I replied, “No, but I’ve been warned that it can grow back!”

He laughed. “I guess I’ll save fucking the shit out of you for next time then.”

Kissing me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, he made me all hot and relaxed before easing the rest of the way in. And damn, he felt so good. Taking his time, grinding his pubic bone against me to make sure that I came sweetly, he seemed to take pleasure in watching me. For a reintroduction into the wonderful world of sex, it was pretty fucking awesome.

Then, it was
really
game on.

“Are you ready to get the shit fucked out of you, baby?” he asked, his voice husky and molten in my ear.

“Yes!”

He flipped me over, pulled me up on all fours, and rammed into me, riding me hard and fast. Reaching his arm around, he slipped his hand between my legs, his fingers finding and rubbing my clit, as his cock pumped me.

Oh fuck…yes! How have I gone six fucking years without this?

Either I had had some excruciatingly mild sexual experiences with Jaime, or Brian was a genius at fucking. I was in full revelation mode tonight. When he grabbed my hair and tugged, I was astonished to find that I actually enjoyed it. It was, dare I say,
nice
to be roughened up like this. It turned me on, and soon, I was coming hard, moaning and begging for more.

“Oh fuck!” he shouted, grasping my hips and pounding into me. “I’m coming.”

His cock got harder and started to throb, and he pulled me tightly into his groin, holding me there as the aftershocks pulsed through both of us.

“Damn,” I gasped.
I didn’t know it could be like this.

“Fuckin’ right,” he panted behind me. Pulling me up, my back to his chest, he gave me a bit of a sexy little hug, kissing my shoulder before pulling out.

I stretched out on the bed, rolling onto my side. I watched in curious fascination as he removed the condom and tossed it at a trash bin in the corner of the room where it landed on the rim to dangle in shame.

“You smoke?” I asked him, still looking at the dangling condom.

“What, like cigarettes?” He sounded a bit disgusted.

“No, weed.”

“Oh. Yeah. Why? You want some?”

“No, I have some. Do you want to smoke a spliff?”

He flopped down in front of me, grinning, “Hell yeah.”

I headed to the living room and grabbed my bag. When I returned, he was putting a CD in the stereo. I recognized it as Tool’s
Undertow
.

“I love Tool,” I said, pulling out the silver cigarette case where I kept my joint stash. It once had belonged to my grandfather. I’d found it in the attic when we stashed the boxes with Mom’s things. With Grandma’s blessing, I had taken it and made it mine.

“Do you have an ashtray?”

“Nightstand,” he replied. “Tool’s my favorite band.”

Brian’s warmth and desire to share a bit of himself had me smiling.

“They’re one of mine. That’s for sure,” I told him.

Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him who my favorite band was, so instead, I opened the drawer, and I pulled out the ashtray
.

My, that’s a lot of condoms.

Casual sex must be the norm with this guy. It was easy to see why, really, as pretty as he was—and very proficient. He probably picked up chicks quite often. For some bizarre reason, it made me feel more at ease, knowing I wasn’t anything special. It was what it was—just sex. My brain and definitely my body were comfortable with that.

Lying back down, the ashtray on my stomach, I lit up, and we smoked it to the roach.

“So…it’s been a while since you’ve…” he asked, his fingertips lightly tracing over my abdomen.

I laughed. “You could say that.”

“How long?”

He’s going to think I’m a complete weirdo.
“Six years.”

“Six years?”

“Yeah.” I laughed again, sounding a tad nervous.

“How is that even possible?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

“I’ve been really busy.”

“Damn.”

“What about you?”

“A couple of weeks?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” I laughed.

“I’m thinking I gotta get your pipes cleaned out from the six years’ worth of cobwebs,” he said with a saucy grin.

Rolling on top of me, he kissed me until I was hot and ready for him once more.

“Really?” I grinned. “You want to go again?”

“Baby, I’m just getting started,” he replied.

Upside down, I’ve had the same view for the last however many years.

I’m tired, I ache, and I just want this to be over with.

How long can a person deal with the fact that the whole world is upside down?
I haven’t felt as though my life has been right for a long, long, long, long time.

“Mom, make it stop, please,” I whisper.

“You’re almost there, sweetheart,” she replies.

Sitting before me, graceful and at peace, she’s in a lotus pose, her palms pressed together in Namaste. Her eyes are closed as she contemplates the meaning of the universe, completely unperturbed with the fact that her daughter is rooted upside down in her own fucking head.

Her lips twitch, which is strange, because I’m staring at her knees.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Sure you can.”

“No. No, I’m done, Mom. I want to be free. This isn’t right.”

“You will be free, freer than you could possibly imagine. You just need to have a little more patience.”

“More patience? More patience!” I roar, struggling to unfreeze my wooden limbs. “I am done! I am over this! No fucking more!”

“Just a little more patience,” she says again.

Tears run out of my eyes, trickling into my hair, my ropey roots. “I just can’t…”

Opening one eye just a crack, my vision was filled with bright sunlight. I opened both eyes and looked around. The alarm clock on the nightstand showed
11:34
. Alone, I was weirded out and relieved. Still very much naked under the covers, I detected my clothing piled on an armchair in the corner of the room.

It was a nice bedroom, sparsely furnished with the necessary stuff. There was a dresser with a small boxy TV on it along with a CD player. Stereo speakers sat on the floor on either side of it. It was a normal dude bedroom.

As I got out of bed, I noticed a bit of stiffness and not just a little soreness. My poor cunt felt as though it’d been beaten into submission, and it was no wonder. I counted six used condoms in the vicinity of the trash bin.