The Tawdry Tangerine Farewell Pt. 05

"And you," he turned to me. The fist caught me totally unprepared and I doubled over in agony, every breath driven out of my lungs, a situation not helped by the hand clenched tightly on my throat. He drew me up to face him despite my desire to curl into a ball. "You shut the fuck up too or, so help me, I'll put you in a fuckin' boat just so I can burn it. I got no beef with you unless you make me have one."

Gavin gave me a look of amusement, one that said, "Didn't see that coming, did you?" before tossing me back onto the couch. "You," he looked at Molly, "you got lucky this time. Use your fuckin' noodle with men." He looked around with self-satisfied expression. "Five minutes and then you can leave. Not a second before."

He started for the hatch and paused as he walked past Connor on the floor. "Hey, you know what?" Connor started to shake his head. "My cousin says fuck you!" The toe crashing into his nuts put Connor out like a light.

"Go," I told the girls. "I'll make sure he wakes up and let him know that we're through." They scooted.

A few minutes later, I got in Connor's face. I gave him my best pissed-off voice. It wasn't hard since that's exactly what I was. "I'll call an ambulance since your phone's gone. What do you want me to tell the police?" He looked at me vacantly. "My advice, unless you have a death wish, is that you came back to a burglary by a bunch of guys who don't even remotely look like that guy." He nodded. "And, Connor, after that, I don't want to hear from you ever again. You got me thumped and you put Leah in danger. Not to mention it sounds like you're pretty much a rapist."

I made the 911 call and told them I'd heard a shout from another boat and found its owner beaten. I reached down and grabbed his collar, pulling him up easily, ignoring his groans and feeble clutching at his balls. "You stick to that story. I wasn't here nor were the girls. You drag me into this mess and I swear I'll break your fingers myself." I had him up on his tiptoes, easily supporting him with one arm. His good hand yanked at my forearm but, while I may not be Gavin, he didn't stand a chance. I could see the fear.

"Okay," he mumbled through destroyed lips.

I walked around the cabin, gathering up the glasses and dumping them in the dishwasher. The water bottles went into the trash. I found the bottle of pills and, showing him what I was doing, I dropped them in the drawer of the bar. Then I did my best "don't even think about talking to me" impression until the police and EMTs arrived. Both of us stuck to our stories and, with a promise to give a formal statement on Monday, I headed out.

We were all meeting at the studio. I didn't want Connor looking over and seeing lights on my boat, and I certainly wasn't going to tell Gavin where I lived.

I went to get the $3,000 I still owed but, as I went to hand it to him, Gavin said, "I wanna renegotiate our deal." Shit!

"I thought your word was gold."

"It is, that's why I said renegotiate."

"And if I say no, do I get hurt?"

"Nah, man. I walk out of here with the three K you owes me and we're done."

"Then..."

"I got these." He opened his hand to show the three thumb drives. "I figure you're the kind of guy that wants to do right by these ladies."

I was. "And what kind of guy are you?"

"I'm not a fuckin' rapist like dipshit, but I might be the kind of guy that sees how much cash it's worth to them to get their pretty little hands on 'em."

"And how much is it going to cost me?"

He jerked a meaty thumb toward the stone piece I had completed for the town council. "I saw that last time I was here. I got a bar and I thought it might be cool to have something like that. A mascot sorta."

I tried to explain that that piece weighed over a thousand pounds and his floors wouldn't like that but he just waved me off. "Nah, nah. I don't want it in stone. I want it in wood like that over there" — now he pointed to my start on the piece for Tori — "but not airy-fairy shit like that. I want a person. And not a naked dude, I want a girl. The naked part's okay."

I kept my face impassive while I thought about it. Molly made some sound and Gavin looked over at her. "It surprise you I like naked chicks? I certainly liked what I saw of you back there, darlin'."

She flushed a little but held her ground. "No, I'm sure you like your women naked. I just think it takes balls to renegotiate $3,000 into twenty-five times that much."

She succeeded in surprising him. He turned to me. "You make that kind of scratch? Shit, I'm in the wrong business. Well, think of it as an employee discount." He waited.

"I'll do it as long as you realize it will take me three or four months, maybe a little more, to get it done. I've got things I already promised. And I remember," I held up my hand to forestall him, "your code when it comes to people fucking with you."

He gave that little grunt that signaled amusement. He dropped the drives on the table. "I'll give you back the rest when you deliver." He glanced back at Molly, then back to me. "And make the tits look like hers. They were fuckin' beautiful. No offense to you," he said to Leah, "you got serious tatas too. I'm just partial to hers." With the first real laugh I'd heard out of him, he pushed out the door and was gone.

Leah and I had already said our real goodbyes when she told me she needed to hop a flight at the crack of dawn for a job later that day. She came up and put her arms around me. I saw Molly turn away and duck into her area. "Bye, Rick."

"I'll drive you."

"No, I already called an Uber. I had a blast with you and I hope I see you again someday. And Rick, Molly and I worked out how we wanted all of this evening to go together." I didn't quite understand that, but she gave me a quick kiss on the lips and mashed those luscious breasts into me for one last hug, then was out the door.

I started with the one I'd met. "Adrianna? It's Rick Leland."

"Umm, hello, Rick." Her surprise was evident.

"I have a thumb drive with your name on it that supposedly holds a video." I heard a gasp and a small cry. I carried on quickly. "I haven't looked at it, nor will I. I'll either destroy it or, if you give me an address, I'll drop it off to you. Your choice."

She was quiet. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Hopefully Connor Thompson will no longer bother you."

"Why?"

"You weren't the only one. Another woman's relative intervened. I happened to be there and found out what was going on." I heard a faint exclamation as I continued, "Destroy it or drop it off, Adrianne? I've had a long night and I want to go to bed."

She gave me an address. "Thank you."

The conversation with Lara was almost a word-for-word duplicate. Rebecca was a little different.

"And I suppose you think I'll be a party favor for you, too?"

I started to say, "No, I don—" but she talked right over me.

"I told him I was done. Send the video or not, I was done. That goes for you too, fucker. So take it and shove it up your goddam ass. I don't care what happens with my fiancé. I'm not living like this. I told him I had my own fucking video and I was going to the police if I heard one more peep out of him. So, guess what, you cocksucker?"

"Can I get a word in here edgewise?" She paused the tirade and we got back on track.

Three women — one embarrassed because we sort of knew each other, one wary because it was a weird situation, one belligerent just because — all somewhat reassured to see there was a woman in the car with me, took what I handed them and thanked me profusely.

"Now let's get you home," I said to Molly.

"Let's stop by your place, Rick. I want to talk about something." At my questioning look she shook her head. "I could use a drink and it will take a while."

Molly

"What would you like to drink?" he asked me.

"First, I want to thank you for what you did. You saved me, pretty much literally. I know it cost you money. And I know you were prepared to risk jail for a second back there. I can't even begin to make up for that. And, your stomach ... I could tell that hurt a lot." He waved it away like it was nothing but I'd seen that fist land. I knew it probably ached right now. "So, thank you, thank you, thank you. You're my best friend, Rick, and I love you."

"Love you too, Molls."

I knew he'd misinterpret, so the pro forma response didn't bother me. I took a deep breath and plunged. "If you're willing, instead of just a drink, I'd like to do this." I laid the two pills I'd taken onto the counter.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah."

He was shocked, I could tell. I waited to see if I was going to end up a puddle of humiliation in the first fifteen seconds. Finally, he said, "Why? You don't have to ... I mean ... we're friends."

I shook my head. "I'm grateful, you gotta know that even though words don't begin to cut it. But I don't use sex as a payback. This has nothing to do with that. I want to do this because I would like very much to sleep with you tonight." I let him process it.

He looked down at the pills.

I answered the unspoken question. "Because I used it with him and I'd like a better memory." I gave a little shrug. "Actually, if I'm going to be honest, also because it makes things good."

I'd already jumped off the cliff, metaphorically speaking, so, even though my nerves were buzzing, I just kept going. I went over to the bar and took two glasses. Glancing at him every few seconds to make sure he was okay — and to get some advance notice if I was going to end up crying — I poured a couple of fingers of Scotch into each. He didn't move or say anything. That was fine. The only reaction I dreaded was a refusal or a turn away.

I set one down in front of him. Crossing over to the stereo, I found an early Billy Cobham CD I knew he liked and put it on low. Still acting like what I was doing wasn't coming out of left field for him, I flipped on a small lamp in the corner and turned off the main lights. He still hadn't moved. Mentally, I took a deep breath.

I picked up the untouched glass sitting in front of him and pushed it toward him. His hand opened automatically. Picking up the pill, I leaned forward and held it an inch from his mouth, my eyes questioning. After a second, he reached up and pushed my hand down. My heart started to fall, as he said, "Drugs aren't my thing, Molls." But he didn't let go of my hand. He didn't say anything else, either. I started getting excited again as no further words of refusal came. If he was going to balk, I thought he would have done so already.

Nodding, I pulled him away from the counter. Stepping in close, the hand with the drink curling in between us to rest against his chest, the other up around his neck, I leaned against him and started to slow dance. He may have been terrible at a club grind but anyone can sway in time with a partner. At the tune change, I looked up to give him a smile and take a sip. "Drink," I reminded him. This song was a bit faster so I upped the pace but kept it to the simple two-step anyone who's been to a high school dance can do.

Sipping at each change, we danced our way through the whiskey. Halfway through the third song, his free hand had come up from lightly touching my waist to the small of my back. It felt fabulous. I finished my drink first and set the glass down, allowing me to snuggle in more closely. I slid one leg between his, my one hand flat against his chest while the other stroked the back of his neck. I let him keep the simple beat, excited by the guy under my hands, the press of my breast against his ribs, the knowledge that I was going to get laid. In a moment's pause, I was mildly amused to realize that I was even more excited by the knowledge that he knew he was going to get laid ... and that he wanted it.

The album ended. His drink had one swallow left in it and I opened my mouth and leaned toward his glass, allowing him to feed it to me. Pushing him down on the couch, I knelt straddling his lap to face him. I knew spreading my legs like that rode my skirt up to where I was flashing hard. I didn't care. It was coming off soon anyway.

I kissed him gently, trailing a small line of kisses from his mouth along his jaw line, ending with a flick of my tongue in the hollow below his ear. Back to his mouth and the same on the other side. Pulling back, "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

I leaned in for another kiss, letting my tongue trace over his lips, tasting the smoky liquor on them, before demanding entrance. I felt his hand settle on my hip. I also felt the shift where my mound met his body. He broke the kiss and glanced down self-consciously. "I told you I wouldn't mind," I reminded him. "I'm getting as excited as you are." I returned to exploring his mouth.

Part of me wanted to rush ahead. Part of me liked the tease of dragging this out. I let him set the pace for now. His hand came up from my hip to stroke my ribs, then the side of my breast, before committing to a full caress. I sat up straighter, raising my arms to give him access. "Go ahead, take it off." I dropped one shoulder and then the other so he could slide the straps down my arms. Leaning in, I let him capture a nipple in his mouth, working it with tongue and lips and faint hints of teeth while his hands stroked the cheeks of my ass. Pulling free, I twisted slightly to present the other for his consumption.

He pulled back to stare at them. "The tattoos don't bother you?" I asked.

"No." To prove his point, he took one back in his mouth, sucking harder, teeth present just enough to make me catch my breath. He looked up to check my reaction.

"Don't you dare stop," I reassured him. "That went straight to my crotch." He moved to the other, giving it the same attention. They would be sore tomorrow and I loved the thought. I hoped I'd be sore in all kinds of places.

With my legs spread like this, I knew his lap would be getting damp very soon. My nipple extended as I pulled back from him, then snapped into shape as he let go the suction. I walked my knees back and stood. Lifting one foot, I set my boot on his knee. "Help me with this?" His fingers fumbled with the buckle then he grasped the heel and pulled it off my foot. I switched legs. "Now this one." As I set the second foot back on the floor, I saw his eyes travel up and lock on my breasts again.

Turning, I presented my ass to him. "Unzip." I let him grasp the hem and wiggled my hips. Clad only in semi-transparent undies, it was time to get serious. I dropped to my knees on the couch beside him and reached for his belt buckle.

Leah was prettier than I am. I don't mind admitting it about her. And, no matter what Gavin thought, those twenty-four-year-old knockers she had outshone mine. Fucking hell — as much as I hated to, I had to admit even The Bitch was prettier and had slightly bigger boobs. And I was already pretty sure Rick was a boob guy.

But I had one ace up my sleeve I'd bet my ass they didn't, because most women don't have the slightest interest in it.

Over a decade of diligent practice had given me damn good control over my gag reflex. As long as I took it slow — and I was in the driver's seat right at the moment — and he wasn't monster thick, I could porn star a cock. And that's why I crawled up on the couch. Everybody knows you blow a guy by kneeling between his legs so he could look down and see your head bobbing and your tits swaying. But I knew, if you want to take him all the way, angle is key. I began to unbuckle and unbutton and unzip.

I got him wet, saliva glistening the entire hard length, then I slowly lowered by mouth over him and kept going. The gasp of surprise thrilled me. I let my throat massage the sensitive head, pulling all the way back every fifteen or twenty seconds to allow a deep breath, then treating him once again to the sensation of pushing past the pharyngeal muscles, the ones that make most women give an obstinate "No!" to their guy's fondest wish in the oral department.

Astonishingly, he seemed to understand his role: not once did he drive his hips up in an effort to get deeper, wetter, tighter like most guys do. Not once did I have to gag and push away with a look of, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Except for progressively faster breathing, he held still, savoring the sensation of a warm, extremely messy mouth devouring him. I might have to teach him how to dance, but I didn't have to teach this guy how to get blown.

"I'm close."

I pulled back, nodded to show I'd heard, took a deep breath, and descended all the way. My throat trembled a little, my tongue worked what little it could in what had become the very tight quarters of my mouth. I pushed that extra quarter inch to get firmly down and then tightened my lips so he could feel them flush against the base: mental porn of knowing how deep he was in.

One of these days, I thought, I'll take him on my back with my head hanging off a bed so that he could have the naughty visual of watching my throat bulge.

My hand cradled his balls. The other slid into his shirt and played against his nipple. After five or six seconds, my throat filled with thick liquid. Swallowing was out of the question, my gag would trigger, so I just rode it out, acknowledging what my body wanted to do but refusing to submit to it. When the jets finally ended, I slowly let him slide out, copious saliva and semen leaving his cock a mess.

I've got no problems with the latter but, while I was perfectly willing to go down on him to clean up, my biggest worry with Rick — other than whether he could like me this way at all — was whether knowledge of that video made me a whore in his eyes. Gobbling a messy cock seemed risky in that respect. So, "Hold still a moment," I said quietly. Stepping off the sofa, I stripped my underwear off. I noticed his eyes dropped like targeting lasers to the patch of fur between my legs: maybe he wasn't totally a boob man. I wrapped them around his length and drew the mess off.

I looked up to meet his eyes, pleased at the contradictory expression on his face: half satiated, half excited. "Rick, I would love to kneel down here and do it again, but I'm so excited I'm starting to drip. I need some attention." I stood, reaching out my hand. He put his in mine and I helped him to his feet, his balance slightly awkward by the pants dropping loose from his hips. I let go and turned toward the bedroom. "Join me in there when you're naked. I'll be the one on the bed with her legs spread."

I wasn't lying: I was so excited I was feeling short of breath. Between the fulfillment of a two-year fantasy and the slight buzz from the liquor, I wanted that guy's tongue between my legs and his fingers in me desperately.

"So, what's he like in bed?" I'd asked Leah.

She shook her head. "A properly bred woman never discusses intimate matters," she said with the most pompous air she could muster, pointing her nose in the air like a snooty society matron.

The effect was spoiled by our laughter but, "Come on! Tell me!"

"Find out for yourself, byotch!"

"One thing. Throw me a bone! Just one."

"You're buying the beer?"

"Deal!"

"That man seriously likes going down. Before, after, whatever. And he absolutely does not suck at it, no pun intended." That sent a jagged bolt of dark lightning through my nether regions, never mind that we were sitting in a pub. I like head as much as the next girl, and I had a particularly warm spot for guys who were willing to be equal opportunity when it came to post-fuck oral.

Now, all I could think about was that tongue stabbing into my pussy, those hands clasping my hips, my legs over his shoulders, my hands buried tightly in that long hair.

Less than five minutes later, my heels were drumming lightly on his back as I surrendered to what would be only the first. I agreed with her: he didn't suck at all. And he loved it. I could tell. Some guys feel that first jerk, hear that first faint moan and catch of breath, and they're already mentally maneuvering north for some p-in-v action. Rick was in no hurry to move on.