Ball Peen Hammer (39 page)

Without warning, a fingertip glides with ease up my anus, as that same magical hand continues its steady swiping movement deep inside me, and it’s like he’s tripped a switch I didn’t even know I had.

I scream and let go of Keane’s erection, suddenly unable to control my limbs. Out of nowhere, I’m wracked with the most violently pleasurable orgasm of my life—a full-bodied seizure emanating from a place so deep inside me, it feels like it’s ripping me in two.

Without meaning to do it, I begin thrashing wildly next to Keane, overcome by the agony of the pleasure I’m experiencing. I slam my palms down on the mattress, arch my back, and grip the bedspread with white knuckles. I feel my eyes rolling back into my head, but I can’t stop them. “
Keeeeeeeeeeane
!” I scream, my entire body quaking.

“That’s it,” Keane purrs into my ear, his voice low and intense, his wet hard-on sliding against my skin. “Your nipples look amazing, baby. Ooph, you’re hot as fuck. I can’t wait to fuck this wet pussy and feel you from the inside-out.”

“Oh, shit,” I cry out at top volume. “Yes!” I shriek. “Keane!”

Oh, Jesus God. I’m flopping like a dying fish, bucking and convulsing without control. Gibberish is spewing out of my mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” Keane says calmly. “You’re speaking in tongues, baby.”

When my body finally stops shuddering and my limbs are my own again, I wipe at my eyes, gasping for air, and I’m shocked to feel wetness streaming down my cheeks. Oh Mylanta. Keane made me come so freaking hard I
cried
?

“Keane,” I whisper, my body splayed on the bed in a mangled heap. “
Thank you
.”

Keane kisses me tenderly, pressing the full length of his glorious body against mine, molding my soft curves into his body’s hardness. “Did that feel good?”

I nod, unable to speak.

Keane bites my earlobe. “Welcome to the big leagues, sweetheart,” he whispers, his erection grinding against me insistently. “You’re A-spot cherry’s officially been popped.”

“Fuck me,” I gasp, clutching at him desperately.

“Oh, God, that’s all I wanna do,” he groans. “But not yet.” He exhales a shaky breath. “I’m gonna give you a night to remember, sweetheart.”

“Keane, no. There’s no way I can—”

He slides his fingers inside me again and I immediately stop talking.

Oh.

That feels amazing.

I don’t know how it’s possible, but Keane’s working his unbelievable magic on me
again
—and this time my body’s ramping up twice as fast as before.

Wow
.

Somehow, I’m not ultra sensitive like I usually am after an orgasm. I’m only ready and aching for more.

Approximately four minutes later, I’d guess, I’m shrieking at the top of my lungs again as my body convulses with an even more forceful orgasm than the one before.

“How the hell are you doing this to me?” I choke out when the waves of pleasure have subsided and I’m left twitching on the mattress like a fish on a riverbank.

Keane brushes a lock of sweaty hair off my cheek. “It’s The Sure Thing, baby doll. I told you. Works like a charm.”

“But what the hell are you doing up in there? Show me.”

Keane puts his hand in front of my face and moves his middle finger in a steady and simple “come hither” motion.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah—but, you know, I’m doing it
right
. I’m touching the exact spot and I’m using the right amount of pressure and speed. Oh, and I’m dirty-talking into your ear like a motherfucker the whole time, as I’m sure you’ve noticed—that’s big. Otherwise, you run the risk of losing concentration and letting your mind drift to whether you paid the electric bill or set the DVR or some other life-shit like that.” He smirks. “Plus, dirty-talk is just plain hot. I
love
it. So, yeah, I touch you like I showed you, use the right pressure and speed, dirty-talk the fuck outta ya, and that’s it. Those are all the ingredients to the soup. Bam-bam-bam! Honey Bunches of O’s.” He winks.

I clutch my chest, sitting up. “This is life-changing for me. Do you know that? I’ll never be the same again.”

Keane’s eyes sparkle. “That’s the idea, babe. Now you know you can do this, you’ll never settle for less.”

“Let’s do it again,” I say excitedly. “One more, okay?”

“As many more as you want, baby doll. I got all night.”

I lie back down giddily, my nipples rock-hard. “Oh my God. I’m in heaven.”

“That makes two of us,” Keane says. He kisses me passionately, his fingers caressing my breasts at first and then trailing down my torso and slipping inside me. And, by God, after only a few minutes of touching deep inside me and whispering all kinds of sexy things into my ear, I come
again
. Just as hard, if not harder, than before. And, after that, against all odds, he does it
again
, and then again, each time easier to achieve and more pleasurable than the last.

By the time Keane’s finished with me, I’m a writhing, incoherent, sweaty beast. A cat in heat. A raw piece of meat.
And I’ve never felt more alive in my life.

“I can’t take it any more,” I breathe, undulating on the bed. “Fuck me, Keane.”

Keane rolls off me abruptly and grabs a nearby condom packet off the nightstand. “Oh my God, you’re a sexy beast.” He quickly rolls the condom onto his erection and moves to my laptop. “How about a little ‘Itch’ by Nothing But Thieves for the festivities?”

“Perfect.”

Keane cues the song and turns around to face me, his eyes smoldering. “Oh my God, what have you done to my poor, poor balls, you inhuman monster?” He crawls onto the bed. “You like torturing me, is that it?” With a guttural growl of excitement, Keane opens my legs, rests my thighs on his muscled chest, and slides into my wetness like a hot knife in warm butter, groaning as he does. “Oh, thank you, God,” Keane exhales, his body thrusting in and out of me. “Oh my fuck, you feel amazing. Thank you, lord above.”

I’m enraptured. Oh, good lord. A man inside me has never felt this good. My body is receiving him like nothing I’ve felt before. I’m absolutely ravenous for him. And
so
freakin’ wet. I had no idea my body could get this wet from so deep inside. Oh my God, this feels nothing like any of the sex I’ve had before. This is beyond pleasure. This is ecstasy.

As the song barrels into its first chorus, I grip Keane’s face and pull him to me for a kiss, my body moving with his, and he responds by devouring my mouth as his erection pumps in and out of me.

“Oh, God, I love fucking you,” Keane whispers into my lips.

I fucking love you, too
, I think, but instantly realize my stupid brain’s mistake. Oh my hell, my brain just scrambled Keane’s words. I must be in an orgasm-induced stupor.

“I love
fucking
you,” I reply slowly, taking great care to say the words in the correct order.

“You feel so fucking good,” Keane growls on top of me. “Oh, fuck, I’m trying to hang on,” he grits out. “But you feel too good.”

I clutch Keane to me, concentrating on nothing but what my body’s feeling.

“God, I love fucking you,” he groans.

“And I love fucking you
,” I say again, just as carefully as the last time, making damn sure my stupefied brain’s not screwing it up.

“Oh fuck,” Keane says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, so good.”

“Itch” comes to an end, filling the room with brief silence, and I sigh with relief. Now maybe my crazy-ass brain will stop turning everything into a freakin’ fairytale.

Keane kisses me deeply, his body clearly on the cusp of release, just as the next song starts. And fuck my life, it’s Lana Del Rey’s “Blue Jeans.” Why the hell did I put this song on the playlist? Just because it happened to play during our road trip is no good reason to put it on a freakin’ playlist!

Keane thrusts into me deeply, his kisses passionate, his body clearly reaching a boiling point, and I reply with heated gyrations and groans of my own, my body on the verge of total and complete ecstasy. But, oh my God, how am I supposed to have no-strings sex while listening to
this
song? Is Lana Del Rey trying to send a subliminal message straight to my heart? Because as Lana sings her song about eternal love and brutal heartbreak, my stupid heart is beginning to adopt her words as my own.

Yes, as Keane’s body moves so deliciously inside mine and he kisses me with heart-stopping passion, I’m suddenly having a premonition about what lies ahead for me when this “no-strings fling” with Keane is done: I’m going to wind up just like Lana Del Rey in “Blue Jeans”—heartbroken.

And there’s not a damned thing I can do about it
. 

Chapter 41

Keane

Saturday, 2:46 a.m.

I’m deep-fucking Maddy Milliken to within an inch of her life to Akon’s “Smack That,” and holy motherfuck, it feels good. She’s bent over the bed taking every inch of me, my hands variously working her clit, fondling her gorgeous tits, smacking that round ass of hers, and grabbing fistfuls of her hair.

Who knew a pretty, smart girl I actually
like
would turn out to be the hottest sex of my life? Everything Maddy does turns me on. Every sound she makes. The way she responds so enthusiastically to every little thing I do to her. She’s my new favorite toy.

“You turn me on so much,” I growl at Maddy, and she moans her reply. “You’re so sexy, baby. Oh, fuck, this feels good. You make me wanna come so hard,” I whisper into her ear, my body on the verge of release. “God, I love fucking you.”

Maddy yelps, clearly on the cusp of losing it along with me.

Damn, this is good. And totally unexpected. I knew sex with Maddy would be
good
—stealing cookies outta the cookie jar is always a fun pastime—but I didn’t know ‘good’ and ‘fun’ could also be this
addicting
. If I’d known sleeping with a pretty, smart girl was gonna feel
this
amazing, I’d have done it a long time ago.

Maddy lets out a tortured wail and I can feel her muscles clenching and releasing around my cock. Oooooh, fuck, that’s the best feeling in the world. Oh, shit. I can’t hang on. This is too hot.

In a sudden flood of pleasure, my body releases with Maddy’s until we both collapse onto the bed in a sweaty heap.

Oh my God, this cookie right here is a drug and I’m a motherfucking drugstore cowboy, baby. Wooh! Maddy Milliken is officially the tastiest cookie I’ve ever stolen in my entire fucking life.
Yee-boy
!

I roll off Maddy and slap her ass once more for good measure, making her flinch. “Dude,” I say. “This friends-with-benefits thing was a stupendously fantastic idea.”

Chapter 42

Keane

Saturday, 10:37 p.m.

“She’s so hot,” I say, looking across the room at Maddy. I sip my beer. “She’s a stealth-hottie—just kinda creeps up on ya from outta the bushes. What’s that thing that hides in bushes and then sneaks out and kills you?”

I’m talking to Zander, of course. We’re sitting on a shabby couch in the green room of The Viper Room, waiting for my brother and his band to take the stage in about an hour. Maddy’s across the room with the band, shooting “behind the scenes” footage for some video she promised to make for them, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

“Something that hides in bushes, sneaks out, and kills you?” Zander asks. “A snake?”

“No, no, Maddy’s not a
snake
. I’m talking about that little mammal thing that does that.”

“A little
mammal
that hides in bushes, sneaks out, and
kills
you? You mean like a lion?”

“No, not a
lion
. Something
little
, like a... I don’t know what it’s called. That’s the whole reason I’m asking you.”

“There’s no such animal, Peenie.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, there is now. It’s called a Maddy Milliken, son.” I watch Maddy across the room for a long beat, marveling at how sexy she is. “I love watching Maddy when she’s being Little Miss Documentary Filmmaker,” I say, my eyes still trained across the room. “Look how her face is all
passionate
and shit. Mmm mmm! Good stuff, son.” I swig my beer again. “Sexy little thing.”

Zander doesn’t reply.

Across the room, Maddy shares a laugh with Fish, the bassist in 22 Goats. She’s asking him questions on camera and totally connecting with him (a fact that doesn’t surprise me at all, since it seems Maddy quietly connects with everyone she meets, despite that bullshit she keeps telling me about her supposed shyness).

“Oh, hey, bee tee dubs, I meant to tell you. Just in case Dax mentions it, I told him me, you and Maddy got shanghaied last night by a horde of male strippers and got too shitfaced to stumble over to Henn’s party.”

“Okay. Got it.”

I take another sip of beer and watch Maddy for a long beat. “It’s always the quiet ones that surprise you,” I say. “Oh, look at her now. She’s got her game face on, brah. She’s so adorable. God-
damn
, she’s something else.”

“Peen,” Zander says softly.

I peel my eyes off Maddy to glance at Zander and I’m surprised to find him staring at me with what I’d call “what the fuck are you doing?” eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Zander asks (confirming that, yes, I can read my wife like a book).

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’”

“Well, let’s see. Hmm. Right now, I’m drinking beer with my beloved wife, waiting for my rock-star brother to take the stage in Hollywood, California, baby—
yee-boy
!—and watching a sexy little stealth-hottie sneak outta the bushes and slay me with her supreme hotness.” I wink at Zander and sip my beer. “Good times.”

Zander doesn’t look amused. “No. I mean, what the fuck are you doing with
Maddy
?”

I smile, thinking about my marathon sesh with Maddy last night for the millionth time today. “A whole lot more than
sussing
her, I can tell you that.” I snort and sip my beer.