Dirty Little Freaks (25 page)

True to his word, we spend the day wrapped in each other, our limbs, our whispers, our breath, all entwined in our perfect world, here under the blankets.

When I was a kid, I was left alone in strange motel room a lot. Or, if I was lucky, some friend my mom had made until she used and abused her way out of said friend's life. A friend’s house meant a fridge and cupboards to raid, but a motel room meant unlimited TV, so either way it was a few stolen moments by myself.

To combat my fears, I would hide under the blankets. Everything would melt away when I was in my secret word, warmed by my breath and muffled by the blankets. I don’t know why I continue to do it to this day, but I do. Here with Hush the magical quality is seemingly doubled.

“I want you to come next week, to my defense,” he says as I’m in his arms, snoozing happily.

“What do you mean defense, are you on trial?” I smile and twist my body so I can look at him. He just invited me into his real world, the world where he is Nicolas Harrington junior...or second...whatever. He’s inviting me into his life.

“Ha. Ha. If anything you should be locked up,” he grins, “for stealing my heart.”

I groan and fake punch his chest. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

“I know I can, ok, how about I want you to be there in the lecture theatre when I defend my dissertation...my lady.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say and flip onto my back, still nestled in his arms.

“You’ll think about it?” he cries out in mock indignation. “You’ll think about it? You’re killing me here.”

I look up at him again and say, “Of course I’ll come, I want to be there to support you.”

He smiles, content at my response. His hands start to travel along my flesh, as if they have a life of their own. I settle back down and let him massage my arms, my breasts, my stomach. He kneads my flesh in deep, slow, sensual strokes and I exhale, a sigh of contentment.

“Here, let me get on top of you,” he says and pushes up onto his elbow.

“Oh wow, what a romantic,” I laugh and roll onto my stomach. He straddles me and starts to massage my back, those long, sensual strokes again, I feel like I’m turning liquid under his hands.

“This is what I meant,” he says, trailing his long fingers up my spine. He grips the back of my neck and rubs me there. I feel myself heating up, my pussy is already aching for him to slide himself back inside of me, but I concentrate on his touch. He goes up on his knees and bends over, I feel his hot breath on the back of my neck and he bites me there. I cry out, not in pain, but pleasure. He’s found my ultimate weakness, the back of the neck. Of course he knows that about me now, I can’t keep anything from him.

He twists my flesh in his teeth and slides his hand back down my spine, to the top of my ass. I pant and twist, trying to escape the pain, but not really trying that hard. I tilt my ass upwards to receive his finger and he complies. He slides two or three down my wet slit into my entrance. He wiggles them, straightens them and starts to fuck my pussy while he’s got me pinned by the back of the neck. I moan into the pillow, and push myself against him, begging him for more. I want his cock inside of me now, as much as I want to love him, I want to fuck him.

Hush pulls back, releasing my neck. “Oh babe, that’s so fucking sexy, I’ve left my mark on you,” he whispers in a hoarse voice. I love that I’m marked as his; I think about getting his bite tattooed there, a permanent reminder that I’ll be his forever.

“Fuck me,” I pant and push myself harder against his hand. “Please,” I beg, “I need you to fuck my cunt.”

“Oh, we’re getting there,” he tells me and grabs my wrist. He drags my hand behind my back and slides his fingers out of me. He grabs my other hand with his dripping wet fingers and drags it to line up with the first one, tight against my back. I’m helpless to fight; he’s got my face pressed into the pillow and my arms twisted.

“You ok babe?” he asks, his voice soft with love and reverence. I feel like his beautiful babe, his precious partner in crime...not just a nasty fuck. It adds an entire new layer to our sex, the emotional aspect almost thickens the air as it thickens my voice.

“I’m good,” I breathe, “I love this,” I say and he jerks my hands tighter. I gasp and wiggle, but can’t get away.

He pulls back and helps me up, so my ass is in the air, my hands are still pinned behind me, and my face is still in the pillow. He rubs my thigh and slips his fingers up inside of me. He adjusts himself and I feel the head of his cock push against my entrance. He pulls his hand away and slides his length inside of me, excruciatingly slow. I try to buck my hips against him, forcing him in faster, but I am pinned and cannot move.

“Hang on,” he breathes and pulls back, far enough that the ridge of his cock head is almost out. A half an inch farther, and he would fall out of me. I moan and wiggle against him, I want to be fucked hard, but this slow, sensual sex is something else. “Here we go,” he says, tightens his grip on my wrists and plunges into me. I cry out when he hits the end of me, I can feel my pussy tighten around him, as if trying to keep him inside. He repeats the slow withdrawal, and I can feel every cell in my cunt lighting on fire, the sensation of skin on skin makes my toes curl with delicious desire.

“Fuck me harder,” I demand after a few repetitions of this. I am getting close to the edge of my orgasm, but I want him to crash into me and push me over. I want to fall with him, and I don’t know how we will get there at this rate. “I need you to pound me, to fuck me like you mean it,” I almost snarl my request. He lifts me up, releases my hands, and slams me down onto his cock. He wraps one arm around my waist, holding me against him, and grabs a handful of hair, pinning me tight.

“I can’t do anything
but
fuck you, Jade,” he breathes into my ear, “there will be time to love you later.” He nibbles my neck at the tender spot he bit me before, and this is enough to tip me over. I scream my orgasm, saying his name, repeating it like a mantra that will guide me through this blinding light and bring me back safely to him. I feel him tense and his fingers get tangled in my hair, pinning my body against him as he thrusts upwards a couple more times, then groans and relaxes. I feel him flood my pussy, the warmth of his cum following his cock as it recedes, leaving a gush of fluids in its wake. The sharp tangy scent of our mixed sex wafts up to my nose and I’m fucking horny again. I’m exhausted, glowing in his love, freshly fucked, and my cunt juices make me want to fuck again. What the hell has gotten into me?

His body sinks slowly and he sets me down on the bed underneath him. He rolls to his side and spoons me, running his hands along my body.

“I can’t keep my fucking hands off you, babe,” he says with a small chuckle,

“No protests here,” I smile and stretch languidly, like a cat. I twist around so I’m on my back, he lifts his leg and rests it on mine. We fall asleep like that, I feel safe in his arms, safe in his heart. It isn’t until I wake, hours later that I realize I didn’t need to pull the blanket over me to feel this way. I no longer need the world muffled. I no longer need to hide from it when I have Hush by my side.

He’s been driving me fucking nuts all morning. He defends his dissertation at three in the afternoon and it’s only eleven. If I have to keep watching him pace back and forth and mumble under his breath, only to pause and yell, “No, fuck, no, that’s not it,” one more time, I’m going to scream.

I woke him up with a celebratory blowie, he ended up riding my chest with his balls on my chin, fucking my face...he shot his spunk all over my tits and he’s
still
wound up tighter than a nun in a whorehouse on a Sunday. I wonder if anal would relax him. I also wonder if I’m the world’s best or world’s worst girlfriend, always solving his problems with sex. I’m sure the show of hands would be divided mostly based on gender.

Maybe I could work something about my love of sex into my own research one day, but make it all wordy and smart sounding of course. I’ll have to write it down later and check it out. Right now I have to stop him from sending me over the edge with this nervous energy.

“You wanna do a bump of coke or something?” I ask, only half joking. “Maybe that will help you present.”

He looks at me like he’s considering it, “I can’t do that...can I?” He thinks on it and continues, “Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t see my father when I’m high. Waste of good drugs.” He grins and comes to sit next to me on the couch.

I put my feet up on his lap and say, “Um, shit, did you say your dad’s gonna be there?” I gulp and wiggle my feet at him. Maybe a good foot massage will calm him down. I love how I’m always thinking of him.

He starts rubbing, starting with my toes, just how I like it. “I thought I mentioned that,” he says, looking at me to see my reaction.

“You might have,” I say, but I don’t think he did. I would have remembered if he did. Unless I was drunk. Or high. Or fucking. Yeah, so he probably did tell me.

“Does that bother you?” he asks, still working on my feet, “I mean, meeting my family?”

“Your family? As in all of them?” I say, trying to keep the nerves from my voice. His family? This excites me on one level; it makes it seem legit, like Hush really does want to bring me into the light of day. On the other hand, it’s fucking terrifying. I know his family is rich, and I know his father is a difficult man, that’s about all I know.

“My father, my mother, and my younger brother, Richard,” he says, rubbing the heel of my left foot now.

“You never told me you have a younger brother,” I say. “You’ve never told me much about them at all.”

He stops rubbing and looks at me, his eyes narrow and he obviously chooses his words carefully when he says, “Picture every terrible stereotype you can think of about a wealthy family, and you’ve got it. Overbearing father with a string of mistresses, alcoholic mother who checked out of reality years ago, and the spoilt idiotic younger brother who can’t do anything wrong according to my parents.” He runs his hand up my leg and settles on my thigh. I think it’s a comfort thing for him, touching me is his security blanket. I love that we need each other; we found each other.

“Are you gonna be ok with me meeting them?” I ask shyly, “Are you worried what they’ll think of me?”

“God no,” he reaches over and pulls me up onto his lap. “My God, no, I don’t care what they think of you, I love you and that’s all that matters. Don’t you ever worry about anybody else, Jade, the world can go fuck itself if it doesn’t approve of me being fucking crazy ass in love with you.” He kisses me and all my little nagging fears and worries are washed away by his words and lips. I feel my walls being chipped away every time he tells me he loves me, every time he tells me things like this. I know eventually I will be completely open to him, and I love him for that. I love him because he is getting to know me, and he accepts every last little bit of me with no question. He loves me for who I am, not for what I can give him or do for him. I think he feels the same from me, but it’s true. I couldn’t care less if he had a penny in the bank or a million dollars to spend. I love him, plain and simple.

He pulls back and looks at his watch, “Shit, I need to go ahead and set up. You’ll be there, right? Promise me you’ll be there. This is all for you, babe.”

“Of course I will, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I reassure him and watch him run around picking up pieces of clothing here and there. I lounge on the couch and watch him dress; his muscles ripple as he shrugs into a white dress shirt. I can see the outline of his tats through the fabric as he does up the buttons. He pulls a dress coat over top and stops for a moment. “Aren’t you missing something?” I say, smiling.

“What?” he asks, and laughs as I point at his naked legs. “Ah, yes, pants would definitely help.” He drags them up his long, thick legs and all his tats are covered, he looks almost normal, except for his green hair, pulled back still. I want him to spike it again soon, I don’t know what it is, but I want to fuck every time I see that mohawk heading my way.

I get up, adjust my long tee shirt and stand on tippy toe to kiss him. “I’d wish you good luck, but you don’t need it,” I tell him. He squeezes me tight, takes a huge breath and exhales slowly.