V is for Veronica Ch. 01

He laughs again and purses his lips in a flirty kiss from across the room, "I don't know, I think your smile is even more delicious."

"Hey, no sweet talk, that's against the rules," I point at him.

"Oh, okay, okay. We're doin the rules? Because if so you--"

"I am above the rules," I cackle. He points to my grin.

"We tied, now. Do me a favor and put some fuckin clothes on," he purses his lips and I can't help but laugh.

"Ha, Okay. I'm going to shower."

Finally, I have the motivation to do it.

***

I sit on the shower floor with the hot water against my back mulling over the evening. This is the first time we've both been on the rebound at the same time since my prom when all of this started.

Years ago, Key and I found ourselves alone after our dates abandoned us for my prom. Key, who had already graduated with my brother's class the year before, found his high school girlfriend tangled up with some dude while my date left me without a ride when he realized I wasn't putting out.

Key, the sweet one of my brother's friends, offered to drop me off. I didn't want to go home. So, we laid on the rooftop of his building in our formalwear sharing beer and weed and sob stories.

By the end of the night, or I guess maybe beginning of the day depending how old you are, mouths and hands were involved, and Key ended up going home with the v-card my date had so desperately wanted.

Ironic when you think about it.

We didn't date, however. He's one of my brother's closest friends, and whereas I don't think they're as close now as they were in high school, we've just never crossed that boundary. After that night we didn't mess around again until the end of the summer when I was working fast food and having a fling with a white boy that ended abruptly as those things tend to do.

I had found him on the patio with my brother, and some other friends of his after Dude ghosted me, and we all hung out for a while, everyone taking turns cheering me up. Back then our friend groups didn't have as much overlap as they do now, so it was memorable.

When Rakeem left to go home that night, I followed him to his car.

"What's up, ma?" Rakeem looked at me with concern. He wore his hair in long thin dreads at that time, and they were piled on his head. I remember finding him so hot, but specifically because of his fucking glasses. They framed his eyes and curly lashes and whenever he smiled the apples of his cheeks would push them up. They still do, but not like they did with that pair in particular.

I think he'd noticed my look, because I remember seeing something change in his eyes.

"You wanna go for a drive?" He'd asked quietly.

So, for the second time that year I ended up riding Key's cock as a balm for my relationship woes in the back of his Jeep, and once again, it was for not putting out with someone else. But that was it. Nothing else.

We became close friends and I was really okay with that. It never felt right to keep going.

The next time I had a breakup, a year later, he was in a relationship with this girl from college and nothing happened between us. I rebounded instead, it ended terribly, I cried on his shoulder, and that was the end. No temptation, no tension, nothing.

It wasn't until that particular relationship of his ended and he immediately found himself in a fucked up rebound that things changed.

Tangled in his sheets after an extended and intense fuck, we made a pact, "Hithertofore henceforth we will never rebound again Ave Maria amen."

Nah, nobody said that--BUT the energy was super there. It was there.

Rules of Engagement:

Rule #1

No cheating. If your Rebound Sponsor is in another relationship you will not so much as tempt them. You may use them as a tissue, but that is all. Any further action is permanent violation, and thus dissolves the contract, and your name will be besmirched across the land and social media.

Rule #2

No feelings. Catching feelings for your Rebound Sponsor is strictly prohibited, to wit; gifting, sweet talk, dressing up, romantic dinners, etc. This a holdover practice for the safe venting of feelings and cumming, no strings attached. If you find yourself feeling squishy, remember, you are rebounding, it is not real, and it is your Sponsor's responsibility to remind you of this by any means necessary, including offensive use of morning breath, flatulence, and poorly timed tasteless jokes. This is the utmost important rule second only to rule 1, which, of course, is a matter of ethics.

Rule #3

No complaining. The dumpee is the center of attention, it is the Sponsor's responsibility to exclusively agree and support the dumpee's position, even when they're being real stupid.

Rule #4

No telling. If my brother (his best friend) were to find out, that would be significantly worse than if my mother found out, because Jonny is a meddlesome comemierda that has put himself in charge of my love life. If Janessa, my best friend, were to find out, we'd never hear the end of it, and everyone would know, and that is not the type of energy we're looking for in the studio, today.

It's worked well for us, so far.

It's not that it happens so, so, often. I don't date much, and he tends to stick around in relationships. There's really only been a handful of times over the years.

Some times are more intense than others. At one point I spent a year single and he spent a year breaking hearts. He kept me busy because he was constantly coming over. Then there was a long stretch of time where we were both single and we only fucked once or twice to take the edge off. It felt super weird and after that we barely saw each other.

I don't know. It's just not how we roll. We are casual. That's it. But something is different.

This time we are both out of long term relationships; I had made peace with "us", whatever we are, being over.

For the past three years, he's been with Audra, and very dedicatedly so. That the big announcement was a break up and not a marriage proposal I think shocked all of us. Nobody saw it coming.

This happens only a month or more after my boyfriend of a year left me for my brother. My never-ever-had-an-interest-in-man--well, that I know of-- brother. Literally nobody saw that coming, either, that's for damn sure.

I huff out an irritated breath. Fuck me, I guess.

Shit. The water is cooling. How long have I been in here? Shit. I move my ass double time to wash before I lose all the hot water.

When I get out of the shower, true to his word, he has a veritable buffet of mom's leftovers and has fixed me a plate. He's also cleaned the kitchen. I smile.

I come downstairs and look around. "You're not going to eat?"

He shakes his head, "I ate while you were showering. Can't wait on your mama's food, I don't have the strength. Feel better?"

He holds his hand out.

"I will," I hand him my comb and he starts to gently work out my curls while I eat. "Thanks."

I don't have the energy to do it myself. My arms are tired from washing it. I don't have the energy for much lately.

"Want me to braid it?" He gets up and heads into the bathroom and grabs the coconut oil.

"That would be cool, then I won't have to straighten it," I sigh, picking at my leftover arroz con gandules.

"So, dale, que pasó? Talk to me," I say, pushing food around on my plate. I ate too much bullshit.

He's working the oil in, fastidiously separating my curls out from any tangles. It's comforting.

"Well," he sighs. "She doesn't want kids." I shiver when he parts my hair quickly and sharply down the middle. I push my plate back.

"I thought we knew that, though," I examine my nails. The acrylics are growing out and need filling in. They look ratchet as fuck.

"I don't think I really realized when we first got together, you know? I didn't want kids at 23, so it didn't matter, feel me?" I can hear him talking around the comb between his teeth. "But we're having these big talks about career and marriage and housing and shit. Trying to sort out our shit and...I realized I didn't want the plan she laid out. At all, like, at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Like she wants to explore. Do I look like a RV drivin, safari print wearing' type of muthafucka, talm'bout experiencing the country?"

I laugh.

"Why, hello, officer," Key code switches to a booming baritone with excessive enunciation. "Me and the missus here are bird watching, we're on the lookout for a orange throated blue finch swallow here in the mighty plains of Arkansas. God bless America, ha ha ha," he chuckles in that fake voice and it kills me. He sounds like the Count from Sesame Street.

"Oh my god, stop!," I squeal. He knows he's got me going, so he keeps rollin', still weaving away, the comb moving back and forth from his teeth to his hand.

"But, that's okay, you wanna spend extra gas money and time drivin around lookin at white people and corn, that's fine, but I'm gonna pick the route, know what I'm sayin? I'm not tryna be in no k-k-korners of Mississippi," he says and I can't see his face but I don't need to. I know his lips are pursed and his eyebrows are raised and I'm done.

"YOU DID NOT SAY KKKORNERS, STOP," I howl, cackling. "You are so fucking crazy!"

Key 2, Vivi 1.

I hear his chuckle, and he ties off the right braid. He moves to the other side of my head, combing it out and beginning to weave.

"Nah but for real, it's not about that. She wants to travel and see the world, and that's amazing, I'd love to do that, but I've got my Mom and I got my granny to take care of, my sisters, my brother. I can't leave them like that, you know? And we ain't even brought up money yet," he says and sighs.

"She wants to do work in third world countries, in South America, all that grassroots shit. I think it's admirable, you know I do, there's honor in that work. But that ain't me, I don't want a life of global activism. I want kids, I want a house. I wanna see these kids grow up. I wanna effect change right here where we stand, make life better for people in my life, my city," he sighs deeply. He clears his throat and I hear him sniffle.

He sighs. He shakes his head.

I understand this more than I'd like to. "I'm surprised Audra doesn't understand."

"She's sympathetic, but she's always saying it's not my job to parent my siblings, but she doesn't have siblings," he stops weaving for a minute, and I hear him swallow hard.

He huffs out a humorless laugh. "She's like Rob with that."

I laugh, "Damn, her parents' house wallpapered with pictures of her just sitting there breathing, too?"

Rakeem pauses and then busts out laughing. Rob is the third in the trifecta of my brother's best friends, the three of them tight since at least grade school. Rob's an only child whose dads act like the sun rises because Rob willed it. Not a bad guy at all, truly, but...ha.

Key 2, Vivi 2.

"Nah," he says with laughter still in his voice. "They just have money."

"Hmm," I nod. That does make for a different perspective. "I'm sorry it's like that, I know you're a family man."

"Nah, it's aight. It's aight. It was good while it was good, you know," he clears his throat, ties off my left braid and automatically kisses the top of my head. I smile, must be from all those years of doing the girls' hair.

I grab the back of my chair and turn around, resting my chin on my hands. "Look, 'mano, you love her a lot and it takes a man to be able to step back and know when it's time, tu sabes?"

"Yeah, I know," He looks at me with watery eyes and laughs. "You know what you look like? Like you off to see the Wizard." He tugs a braid.

I grin, "La boricua de Oz. Except 'toto' ain't no dog in PR," I wink and wolf-whistle through my teeth. I waggle my eyebrows. "More like a cat, eyyyyy."

That gets him laughing, "Skippin' down the road, your coochie in a handbasket."

I wiggle seductively.

"You cute," he smirks looking me over.

"Rule 2, bitch," I clap back.

"My fault, my fault. You think you cute, how's that," he teases.

"Touche," I stand up. "Listen, we are going to watch something stupid. C'mon, I got tissues."

***

I wake up tangled in Key's arms with a start. Netflix asks if we're still on our bullshit.

Last night ended up being really nice. Catching up, hearing about his family, joking around. We smoked some, drank some, and I managed to forget all my problems. I think he did, too.

And I guess we fell asleep watching cupcake wars.

We didn't fuck around past the quickie in the kitchen, and we're both dressed--well more or less, he's in his boxers and I'm in an oversized tee shirt--but it feels weirdly intimate. I am hyper aware of his lips gently resting against the back of my neck.

I only have a full sized bed so I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but this is the most intense spooning situation I've ever experienced and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Our legs are interlocked with one of his thighs between mine and the other on top. I am completely wrapped in him with one of his arms securely around my waist pinning me to him, and his other arm beneath me, fitting right in the space between my shoulder and ear.

To be honest, it's a little sweaty.

The part that has my stomach twisting this way and that is that our fingers are laced together, palm to palm. We slept holding fucking hands. And that has to be on me because his arm is pinned under me, so that means I had to have reached up and clasped his hand. Yikes.

Fuck.

There is no way I can get up without disturbing him. We're tied together like shoelaces. I am also highly aware of how close his thigh is to my crotch. And of course, his rigid cock between my ass cheeks. Oh, and every hot exhale against the back of my neck. Can't forget that.

Shit, now I'm horny. I lick my lips and debate my next move. I should get up, make coffee, scroll insta, literally anything but stay here.

I push my ass back against his dick. He mumbles and shifts, rubbing up on me. I feel my nipples harden and I lick my lips.

Ugh, okay stop. There's still time.

His thigh shifts upwards until it is one fine cunt hair from touching my aching lips.

That's okay, that's okay. Breathe. It's time to disengage. Move out from this situation. If he wakes up he can go back to sleep. I gotta go though.

I ease my hand from his and shift my legs to try and untangle myself. When I wriggle forward, he curls tighter around me and pushes his thigh firmly against my throbbing sex. I let out a quiet little mewl and bite back a groan.

I debate my next action but I am already worked up and losing my willpower. I shift up trying to make space between his leg and my pulsing sex. Fuck.

His breathing changes.

I stay stock-still, but he doesn't say anything. I don't say anything either and I certainly don't rub my pussy on his thigh, that would be...

Really delicious. No. Bad. It would be--

He pushes his thigh up hard against the throbbing heat of my cunt. I trap a hum in my throat. His lips are back on my neck now, dusting kisses up into my nape. Yeah okay, well, that's a wrap. I tried.

I close my eyes and sigh. I grind my wet panties on his thigh. I rub my ass on his cock. He groans under his breath.

He moves. He uses his weight to roll us onto my stomach--we barely have the space for this maneuver--and I'm pinned beneath him.

Neither of us have said anything or acknowledged each other, and it feels filthy.

He nudges my thighs further apart with his. I'm breathing heavy. I don't know what he's doing and I am so fucking turned on by this. His hand smooths down my side. His other arm holds his weight and I hold my breath.

The silence is turning me on. I feel his fingertips on my inner thigh and I jolt from the surprise. He trails them up, up, and a little sigh escapes me. I feel his cock throb in response.

He shifts his weight, and I don't feel his cock anymore. All I feel is his breath on my neck, hot and heavy.

What's he doing?

I wait. After a moment his fingers are back but this time they run along the very damp fabric clinging to my slit. He hooks his finger in and pulls the entire crotch of my panties to the side.

Ohmygodyesplease. I tuck my ass up and back and spread my legs wide. Shit, fuck, the anticipation is killing me. He dips a finger along my folds and I shudder and gasp, I hear him taste his fingers. I am half a step away from begging, I am so fucking hot.

He kisses my neck. I feel the air on my pussy. We say nothing.

I feel his cock at my entrance. I push back against him. We still say nothing.

I need him to fuck me right now.

My eyes bulge and I squeal as he plunges his morning wood into me. I can feel his boxer briefs on my thighs which means he's got his dick out through his fly. I bite my lip hard. We're fucking with our underwear on and it's driving me crazy.

He waits a moment once he's inside me. I'm panting below him and I whine. He pushes himself deeper. I shift down against him again until we meet in the middle. He can't bottom out from this position so I reach back and take over holding my panties using my other arm to brace myself. I push him up and back with my ass until we are in a proper doggy style.

He moves with me easily, taking my lead, and he grabs my hips. My heart is pounding. He pulls my hips and pushes all his weight against me and I feel him against my cervix, fitting me precisely like a puzzle piece locking into place.

I let out a stuttering moan and he answers with a shuddering sigh. I feel his head drop between my shoulders; he's in so deep it feels like he's in my freaking womb.

He rears back and thrusts and fucks a loud moan right on out of me and I almost hit my head on my fucking headboard from the force. I abruptly reach out and grasp it with the hand not holding my weight, and my panties snap against him audibly. He jerks and huffs out a surprised breath. I start to giggle wildly.

He pulls out, and I assume we're done, but just as I turn to look at him, he grasps my panties with both hands and rips them right at the seam where the crotch meets the back panel.

"KEY!" I shriek, breaking the silence and almost jump out of my skin. The fucking maniac. He's in some kind of beast mode or some shit because his hand clamps over my mouth and he drives himself back into me, hard. This time I cry out because he slams inside of me, bottoms out, and my vision bursts into stars.

His fingertips curl into my mouth and I can taste my pussy. I close my lips and suck my flavor off his fingers. Fuck. I can't even fucking think, the sensation of him completely filling me has my eyes rolling in the back of my head, his relentless fucking so all consuming all I can do is hang on for dear life.

I bite his finger, the low wail building up in my chest hammered out in the rhythm of his thrusts. I suck on it wildly and desperately.

He reaches around, past the dangling fabric of my poor panties, god rest their soul, and starts to work my clit, rolling the slippery little bundle of nerves around with his fingertips with the obvious intention of ruining my life.

I choke on a moan and release a strangled cry and I am reduced to a slack jawed, possibly drooling, fuck toy. I sound like a freaking car alarm, my pitch rising and dropping with each thrust and he's thrusting so fucking fast and breathing so fucking hard and--

I can't take this.

It's too much, I--

I'm gonna--

He curls around me, his thrusts becoming deep undulations and he pulls me flush against his body and burrows his face in my neck. With one hand between my thighs, he holds me to him with his other, his palm flat on my chest. My heartbeat is no doubt thundering under his fingertips.

And then? He just nuzzles my ear and says, "Verrrrronica," in a strained, pleading purr and I explode into a million pieces of stardust with a keening wail, clenching down hard on him.