FULL NOVELXO Love and War: Part One – Chapter 23
I walk out of my office from going over financials and inventory as Cassie turns off the open sign and locks the front door. Remington hands me the bank deposit bag lying beside her purse from her seat he’s sitting in behind the counter. “What are you still doing here? Your last appointment was wrapping up an hour ago.”
“Waiting on Cassie to close. We’re going out.”
Cassie looks at me, unsure. “Unless there was something else you needed me to do, of course. Register is counted and closed down. Appointments have been confirmed for tomorrow. Everything is clean and tidy down here and phones are set for voicemail. I just locked up.”
I look between the two of them as I take the bank bag to lock in the safe. “Don’t make me enforce a no fraternization policy. The two of you are fucking adults. You know he’s a whore. I better not come into my shop to post-fucking drama between the two of you when he decides to stick his dick in one of the customers after hours. Got it?”
She points between the two of them. “The two of us aren’t—”
“I don’t give a shit what you are or aren’t. It’s my only warning.”
He stands as she grabs her purse, rolling the chair under the desk. “Noted. Does that go for you and Delta too, boss man?”
My eyes lock on his. “I wouldn’t go there.”
“Kidding. We like Delta and don’t want to see her go. I was just wondering.”
“You don’t control your mouth you’ll be the one to go.”
“Got it. See you in the morning, Kross.”
He grabs her hand and pulls her toward the stairs. “Cassie, I need you to open in the morning. Delta can close and take your next morning shift. She has something to do early.”
“Okay. Works out better for me. I had something tomorrow night with family anyway. Goodnight.”
I walk into my office and insert the bag into the safe’s slot, letting it drop down into the locked bottom before shutting off the lights and securing my office.
The door to the stairs is open and Cassie and Remington are already out of sight. I check behind her like I always do, ensuring nothing was left undone. The building is quiet, the way I personally like it.
Before Delta, when it was like this, I used to tattoo myself to relax before going on a job. It was an easy way for me to transition from one way of life to another. Lately, I find myself just wanting to go home when the day comes to an end, whether a job is following or not.
Solitude is a type of therapy for me just as much as it is a curse, until the bad memories begin, but today when she went to lunch with Lux I didn’t like it. The entire fucking time all I could think about was where she was and what the hell she was doing.
The need for a GPS searchable phone actually crossed my mind. I’m not above controlling, psychotic, irrational behavior. I tend to thrive on it.
I’m a patient man. I have to be to do the things that I do, but that was the longest two hours of my life. It didn’t help when Kaston looked at me and laughed as I glanced at the door and the clock, then told me with those two I actually have a reason to be jealous, and further explained why. Yet I’m supposed to just get used to the thoughts consuming my damn mind because they’re inseparable.
Fuck. That. Shit.
I never thought rage would engulf me from a girl that wasn’t my own. I wanted to pull her out of that damn car by the hair when she dropped Delta off and had her arms around her, hugging her. If she hadn’t been wearing his ring I might have let myself react to it, but I know Kaston, and I know that girl would be six feet under if she cheated on him, whether male or female.
I walk up the stairs, closing the door behind me, arriving at the top within a few seconds. When I open the second door the studio is quiet, dimly lit, and smells of disinfectant cleaner from where she mopped the floor and cleaned the stations. Everything is orderly and the trash cans are empty. Everything is exactly the way I like it, the way I physically need it. I can’t handle filth. I lived in it for too fucking long.
I glance around, looking for her. I spot her at the empty station on her hands and knees, ass in the air with her head buried in the cabinet. Her black skirt is sitting on her ass, the lace panties peeking out.
My feet continue forward, my eyes glued to the areas that should be covered. I stop, crossing my arms over my chest. She’s looking through the various large bottles of ink colors being stored in there for convenience since it’s currently a vacant station. My guess is she’s refilling the smaller bottles at each one.
I’ve said a million times that I needed to fill that spot. The truth is we need another artist, at minimum. I never like to start big in a new place. I’d rather expand once I know the money is in the location. Every day we were overbooked I stared at it, knowing a stack of applications was sitting on my desk and slowly increasing. I never seemed to actually want to fill it for whatever the reason. I think it was just meant to be hers.
I’m not a religious person. Too much bad shit has happened in my life to believe someone is looking out for me. It’s easier to believe there isn’t a God at all than to think he plays favorites, giving some people a leisurely walk through life while the rest of us run from the fucking fire.
Reincarnation is even harder to stomach, because if my childhood was payment for a previous life, I was one sick fucker. The list of why I don’t fit into any spiritual category could go on and on. I don’t believe in much of anything, but if I were to ever put any amount of thought or faith into something, I would say survival of the fittest is the closest thing to making sense. That’s what this life is about: surviving. Some of us just do it better than others.
But, now that she’s here, it’s hard not to wonder if there is some higher power up there, grouping us shitty individuals together for a greater cause. She fits in. She belongs here. I’m starting to think that station has been waiting for her. I’ve been waiting for her, in whatever way that is.
“So I’m supposed to be okay with you hanging out with someone who’s had her tongue all up in your cunt? Explain to me how that’s going to work, because if a dick was involved it sure as fuck wouldn’t happen.”
She jumps at the sound of my voice, hitting her head on the wood. “Ow. Shit,” she whines, backing out of the cabinet and jumping to her feet. Her cheeks are a fresh shade of pink, her eyes wide. Her fingers go to her earrings, twirling over the gauged-out hole as she looks at me. “Um, it’s not like you think. We don’t like each other. I mean, we do, but not like that. It just sort of happened. Fuck. It’s complicated.”
“Explain it to me. This is something I need to physically understand unless you want supervised play dates.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Wanna bet?”
“Have you known this whole time?”
“Start talking. That shit doesn’t ‘sort of happen.’ You don’t see me getting Kaston to suck me off just because we’re friends, if that’s what you want to call us.”
She plops down in the tattoo chair, her shoulders drooping. “It’s happened twice.”
“Two times too many.”
She narrows her eyes. “I expected judgment from you, but this is bullshit. It was way before you. Well, the first time.”
She glances at my crotch, her tongue slipping over her bottom lip. “I control that too. Not until I get an explanation.”
She huffs. “Why the fuck I want you so bad I have no idea! Fine, if you must know. The first time was our senior trip. We were in Cancun, Mexico. Shit happens with tequila and being away from home. Have you ever eaten the worm at the bottom of the bottle? We were trashed. I didn’t want to end up on the news like previous girls and the guys in our class weren’t doing it for me. Plus, my need for loyalty meant I had a ping of guilt that I was supposed to be in a relationship even though he was probably at home fucking my mother. It came up in conversation. We were curious. Alcohol was talking. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, because if he asked about men I didn’t have to lie. The second time was the night before my interview. I was worked up over you, nervous, I hadn’t been with a man in way too long and had not had a real orgasm in even longer. Also, it was my birthday. I guess I seemed needy and she was giving. It had already happened once and never became anything. We aren’t lesbians. We both like dick way too much to even consider that route. I can’t say that I regret it, because it chilled me the fuck out from the anxious state you had me in. It was just body parts. My mind was not on her.”
As if she realized she said too much, she shuts up. I move toward her, leaning over her as my fists go to the seat. Her head falls back until the back of the chair stops her, our lips barely apart, eyes locked together. “What was it on then?”
Her breathing hitches. “Nothing.”
“Lying to me isn’t a good idea. We’ve already been down this road.”
Her eyes close. “You. It’s been on you since I met you.”
I straddle the chair, standing before her. The tip of my finger touches under her chin, pushing her downcast face upward. She opens her eyes. Her lips separate, creating a small opening. “Unbuckle me.”
Her hands slowly rise until she’s gripping my belt buckle. Her eyes never leave mine as she unbuckles it and then unfastens my jeans, her hands slightly shaking. She stares at my boxer briefs, not moving, not saying anything. “Speak.”
“I’ve never been scared to give head before.”
“Why now? All dicks work exactly the same.”
“But the owners behind them don’t. If I’m not any good, I don’t want you to stop wanting me.”
Her vulnerability turns me on. Her weaknesses fuel my need for power. Her desire to please me drives my want to keep her. The rest is a bonus. I push my hand down the front of my underwear, pulling my dick out. “It’d take more than a lousy blowjob to make me not want you. Open.”
She tilts her head back slightly, her eyes never leaving mine. “Then collect what’s due.” She opens her mouth, wide, pushing her tongue forward.
Delta
He grips my hair in his fist, holding my head still. I keep my hands in my lap, wringing them around each other in my attempt to calm down. I’ve thought about this since he mentioned me sucking his dick this morning after the incident with the client. It’s plagued my mind all day. My heart is pounding, my nerves are unsettled, and I’m trying with every ounce of control to keep from shaking. If I gag, I will forever hate myself.
I’ve given head through self-teaching and listening to step-by-step instructions from Chuck. He wasn’t afraid to tell me exactly how to do things. The age difference kept me from questioning it.
Due to the fact that I haven’t had a relationship since then, my experience with blowjobs is little. The idea of disease freaks me out and I refuse to suck latex. It’s disgusting. I tend to experiment more in the category of penetration than oral, where I can hide behind a condom. I prefer random hookups to strum the chord rather than use their tongues on me.
But with him, everything is a yearning I can’t control. There is nothing I want to avoid, regardless of the consequences. He places the tip on my tongue, rubbing it up and down in a short burst. As if it’s a silent command, I close my mouth around his head and hold still. Before I can prepare myself, he thrusts forward, the tip hitting the back of my throat. My throat contracts, trying to purge what’s blocking it.
I breathe through my nose, my eyes welling up from the unexpected invasion. His face is relaxed, his body still, his words absent. Our eyes burn into each other’s. He pushes deeper, testing me, but this time I’ve relaxed my throat some and evened my breathing. He smirks, and with that one movement of muscle I relax completely. He’s making this a game. Only a guy like Kross can control everything down to his own dick.
He starts to fuck my mouth, speed increasing with every thrust. His dick comes out a little wetter with every stroke. He’s rough, not caring in the least if I’m uncomfortable. He’s using me as a tool for his own pleasure. The lust in his eyes spurs my reflexes, my instincts. I create a tight suction, my tongue sweeping along the undercarriage of his cock, the metal of my lip ring massaging his skin. His neck is corded, deep grunts slipping through his lips.
My panties are drenched at the sight of him, knowing I’m the one turning him on. My reservation slips away. My fear leaves. The only thing that remains is the lust running rampant through every vein in my body. His eyes veer as my hand begins to move, traveling beneath my skirt where my fingers move my panties aside.
I circle my fingertips in my wetness, before moving for my clit, stroking myself to the same rhythm he’s using. A sound I’ve never heard from him occurs—a deep, masculine melody without his mouth even opening. It doesn’t take long before I’m at the edge, rounding the peak of the orgasmic coaster and so close to falling. My throat vibrates from the unintentional moans and my eyes start to close.
Just before I orgasm my mouth becomes vacant and I’m lifted and turned like a rag doll, my body taking stance on my knees on the chair. “Jesus, Delta.” I hug the back of the chair as he rips my panties down my legs and rams his cock inside of me before I can keep up. He strokes my clit as he pounds inside of me, my body heating and perspiration coming through my pores. My eyes close without effort, my mouth unable to from the loud screams being drawn out by every hard hit to my backside. My hair is sticking to my face, a strand falling in my mouth. He grips my chin in his palm, tilting my head. His lips touch the edge of my ear as the orgasm begins to tear through my body. “I’ll fucking kill you before I let someone else have you.”
And as those final words settle in my mind, my pussy locks around him as he pulses inside of me. “No one else wants me,” I whisper.
“Good, because anyone who tries is a dead man. I’ve buried bodies for less.”
A tingle runs up my spine, as if a warning. The scary part isn’t that I believe it, but the fact that it makes me feel alive.