Hey! Hi! Good morning and happy Sunday-Funday!
Here’s a filthy, little excerpt from Not So Soft, my current blog serial.
Donnie Darla’s had live music on the weekends, but it was the middle of the week so Motown and hits from the 80s and 90s on the jukebox would have to do. He dug around in his pocket for loose change while flipping through the jukebox selections. A few moments later the first chords of Micheal Jackson’s Get on the Floor began to play. Elijah turned and beckoned to me. I grinned, slammed back my shot of Jack and slid off the barstool, across the floor and right into his arms. Elijah pulled me right up against him, and we began to two-step. I brought my arms up around his shoulders.
“Thank you for being so sweet to my friend.”
“You say that like it’s so hard to do. I like Ava.”
“I could love Ava,” he said with a nod and a chuckle.
I chuckled. “I got that impression.”
“You think she was serious?” he asked, slightly alarmed. “Do you think she thought we were serious?”
“It’s hard to tell with her. She dates a lot, but she hasn’t had a boyfriend in a long while.”
“Hm. Damn shame. She’s smart, charming and sexy girl. She shouldn’t be alone.”
“Sexy, huh?” I asked with a lift of my brow.
“Well, yeah. Any man would be surprised to know that a girl like that is single.”
“Maybe you should have tried a little harder to get her in our bed.”
“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re the only woman I want in my bed tonight.”
“Is that right?”
“Mmmhmm,” he hummed before leaning in to kiss me. His tongue dipped into my mouth, teasing me just a little. “Besides, we said we weren’t going to get involved with anyone we have a history with again.”
“You’re right. We did,” I agreed then pulled him in for a deeper kiss. “Mi amor, te amo tan.”
“I love you, too, sweetness.”
If I could stretch myself out and cover him from head to toe with, my love, it still wouldn’t be enough to explain the depth of my feelings for this man. I was goofy and love-crazed, but I could give less than a damn. He was mine. I was his.
Micheal gave up asking us to dance, and Bobby Brown began to croon about his Tenderoni, and I couldn’t help but grin. “I have a feeling I’m going to get ravished tonight.”
His chest swelled with a dark chuckle. “I feel like you might be right.” He kissed my neck then pulled aside the strap of my dress to kiss and bite at the curve of my neck. My breath caught at that tiny show of violence, and my body instantly craved more.
“How do you do this to me?”
Elijah pulled away so that he could look me in the eye. “Do what?”
“Make me want you like I’ve never had you before. Like you’re something new. Some beautiful new territory to explore.”
He grinned. “Funny you should ask that because that’s how I feel about you.” Elijah pulled me in close and brushed his lips across mine. “You’re what I want. You’re what I need. Everything else is a bonus.”
“Yes, so stop worrying. Okay?”
That night we spent with Julian a little over a month ago had spawned new conversations. New fantasies. New and more elastic boundaries in our relationship. We came to the conclusion that we were ready to open up, though not in the same way. Elijah was totally down for threesomes. He even enjoyed “the hunt” when we scoped out a girl or guy we wanted in our bed for the night and unleashed our considerable charms on him or her. But I wanted something deeper. Something sweeter. I wanted to truly explore polyamory. He wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but he was willing to try for me.
Tenderoni faded away to be replaced with Janet Jackson’s Anytime, Any place and with barely an adjustment our two-step turned into a slow grind and suddenly we were that couple. The one that was obviously very drunk with their hands under each other’s clothes and devouring each other like we were too gone to wait until we got home. The whole place had gone quiet aside from the jukebox. Everybody was definitely watching. I was just drunk enough to give zero fucks. Elijah pulled me close and grabbed my ass in a way that probably had everyone in the bar around us wishing we’d get a room.
“I think I better settle up this tab so we can get out of here before they call the cops.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” I agreed, but didn’t push him away or deny his kisses. They were too sweet.
He chuckled. “Seriously, Yvie. We should go.” He pulled away reluctantly, and I groaned in protest. “I’ll be quick.”
“Okay. I’m gonna go out back and smoke, okay?”
The sidewalk in front of the bar was always loud and crowded, so I routinely avoided my fellow addicts and ducked out in the barely lit alley. It was quiet in the out here, but it was a city sort of quiet where you could still hear traffic and the sounds of people in the street. It wasn’t quite summer yet. The air still held had some of that spring chill that hardened my nipples under my jersey knit dress. I lit my cigarette and took a long drag. My nerves were humming with the promise of what would happen once we got back to his place. How lucky was I to have this man?
“Oh, there you are.” Elijah stepped out into the alley.
“I’m almost done,” I said, turning toward him.
He moved in closer until he stood in front of me under the street light. His dark, moss green eyes looked murky in the orange tinted gloom. “I will never understand how I can loathe the idea of you smoking, but the sight of it makes my dick hard.”
“I think it has something to do with my mouth,” I said with a laugh. Drunk Elijah was talkative and honest. Drunk Elijah emoted freely. I fucking adored drunk Elijah.
“I think you’re right.” He stepped into me and plucked my half-smoked cigarette from my fingers.
“Hey!” I complained. “I’m not finished with that.”
“Yeah, you are,” he said, flicking the cigarette into the street. “You know I don’t like you smoking.”
“I know. It’s too hard to quit.”
“Maybe you just need a little motivation.” His hand came around my waist, pulling me in close. The other slammed down so hard on my ass that I yelped, my voice echoing in the empty alleyway.
Fuck. I wanted more of that.
I looked up at him. “Maybe I do need a little motivation.” A challenge. One he accepted by smacking and then grabbing another big handful of my ass.
“I see,” he said then feigned a disappointed sigh. “Maybe routine spankings would put you off those cancer sticks.”
Hm. Domestic discipline. The thought of that was intriguing. I looked up at him, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “Maybe it would.”
The wicked look he gave me in return made his eyes gleam. “Is that what it’s gonna take?” He grinned like a wolf and leaned a little closer, his mouth inches from mine.
“Maybe you should be spanked. Or maybe I should do something far more torturous to you?”
“Yes, maybe you should,” I said, goading him on.
He sighed, a low and loud sound, nearly a groan and pulled me against him. “Say yes again. I like the way you say yes.” His breath was hot against my cheek.
“Yes,” I whispered. His cock grew hard against the crest of my pubic bone.
“I wish I could fuck you right now,” he whispered in that desperate voice that held promises of the dark, delicious sort, then kissed me again. His mouth was forceful and urgent against mine. I rubbed the flat of my palm against his cock. The denim of his jeans was stretched tight, barely holding him in.
“Then fuck me,” I taunted.