Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (33 page)

“Oh, wow,” I blurted, my eyes bulging.

Phil was
huge
, not just in proportion to his size. He was in proportion and
then
some. My fingers didn’t touch as I curled my fist around him. In awe, I stroked him down. Stroking up, I knew he had to be at least nine inches, probably more, in length. When I reached the head, I realized he was not circumcised, and it felt like a massive oozing mushroom cap, a ridiculous amount of pre-cum squeezing out of the tip.

Swallowing thickly, I whispered, “You feel a bit wet, too.”

His mouth was mere millimeters from mine, his panting breaths fanning my face. “You’re gonna make me come stupid quick.”

His fingers slipped between my wet folds before he glided his long middle finger into me. Grinding the heel of his hand against my clit, he slipped another finger in.

“You make it too easy,” he said.

“It’s your fault,” I whispered back.

“I can’t fuckin’ wait until this is wrapped around my dick,” he told me. “You feel so amazin’, Baby Girl. I just wanna fuck you with everythin’ I got.”

“Yeah…” I breathed, not really thinking. I was just feeling the excitement his words and voice created inside me.

With a groan, he slammed his mouth on mine while working his hand between my legs with serious expertise. I wanted him to come just as badly, so I squeezed and slowly pumped him from tip to root and back.

“Phil…” I moaned, feeling so close. Clenching his fingers so tight, I was building and building and building until I imploded on his hand, convulsing hard. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, and I let out a sobbing sweet cry.

My hand started to loosen its grip on him due to the powerful orgasm that had just ripped its way through me, rendering me into jelly.

“Don’t stop!” he barked at me.

Mindless, I continued to pump him for just a few more seconds before he turned his head into the pillow beneath us and let out a muffled mighty roar. His cock swelled to epic proportions, pulsing as he spurted heavily under his pants and all over my fist.

“I don’t…fuckin’…believe it,” he said, gasping for breath.

“Wh-what?” I asked shakily.

He swallowed thickly and sucked in a deep breath. “That was the best orgasm of my life, and it was from a
hand job
.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, which only made my snort that much louder. I couldn’t help it after that. I busted out in deep-belly rumbling laughter. I was so fucking happy that I felt high.

He slowly removed his hand out from my shorts and raised it up to his mouth, sticking his fingers inside and slowly drawing them out. “You taste fuckin’ awesome. That’s gonna be next, I think.”

That was
the hottest
thing I’d ever seen. It was so blatantly erotic that it made my crotch throb in reflex.

“Um…there’s a lot of, uh…”
Shit, I can’t even think straight.

He took the bottom of his shirt and held it out, so when I pulled my hand out, he wiped it up without getting any of it on the rest of us.

“I’m gonna go change,” he softly told me, “before this shit dries up and sticks to me.”

We sat up, and I could feel how sloppy I was between my thighs. He sweetly kissed me and managed to get on his feet.

“I’m going to head home,” I said gently.

He whipped around to face me. “The fuck you are!”

I nodded. “I need to clean up, too. I…”

He looked ready to kick some ass. “Shower here.”

“I need clean clothes.”

“You can wear something of mine—”

“I’m going home, Phil. I’m all gross and—”

“
Gross
?” He snarled.

“Well, yeah. It’s not comfortable having a swamp in my crotch.”

His nostrils flared. “I want you to stay.”

I sighed. “And I want clean underwear.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I’ll come back in the morning, if you want.”

“I want you to stay the night.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “Do whatever the fuck you want then,” he said. Then, he about-faced and headed up the stairs.

Yeah, he’s a total asshole
, I thought miserably.

My happiness dashed to hell in an instant, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door that led to the side of the house. My heart felt tight and painful as I quietly made my way to Gretchen.

What a complete brat! He turns into such a shit when he doesn’t get what he wants right when he wants it. Doesn’t he realize I’m trying to do what’s right here? We haven’t even been together a full twenty-four hours! He said he wanted to do this right!

Whatever.

If he wanted to pitch a little hissy fit, he could do it alone. I wasn’t some groupie to do his bidding. I had to respect myself first if I expected him to respect me, no matter how badly I wanted to rip off his clothes and do all sorts of nasty things to that monster between his legs.

Shit.

Phil

It took me a few minutes to realize that I had just seriously fucked up. Fuming in my bedroom, tearing off my sticky clothes, I could see her face so clearly in my mind—gentle, quiet, trying to reason with me…the bruised look when I’d basically told her to fuck off.

“Fuck!” I yelled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

All she’d wanted to do was go home and clean herself up. She’d said she’d come back in the morning.

What the fuck was the big deal? So what if we just got each other off—fuck, that had been awesome—and she’d decided to bail? How many times have I done that to someone myself?

Fuckin’ A! I’m the fuckin’ chick in this relationship!

And just like a chick, I grabbed my phone and called her. My heart was in my throat, and my head was a hot fuckin’ mess.

How could I treat her like that?

She wasn’t some stupid bitch. She was my Baby Girl.

Yeah, well, after that fuckin’ stunt, she might not want to be anymore.

With that thought, I started shaking, panic coursing through me.

Don’t fuckin’ think that. She didn’t waste six fuckin’ years waitin’ for your ass, only to give up because you’re a fuckin’ douche canoe.

But maybe that was exactly what she was thinking ’cause she sure as fuck wasn’t answering her phone.

Kenna

By the time I pulled into the driveway, my phone was blowing up.

He’s nuts! I’m not answering it. He can go to hell!

Alys’s car wasn’t here, and there were no lights on inside the house. I was actually glad to be alone because I really needed to think this one through.

My phone just would not shut up, so I dug it out of my bag. I felt a self-righteous wave of satisfaction when I saw
Your Phil
, and I switched off the sound.

Stomping up the steps to the front door and shoving the key in the lock, I wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind me. Thundering up the stairs to my bedroom, I slammed that door shut, too. Stripping out of my clothes, I hopped into the shower and scrubbed myself a little more vigorously than normal.

“Bastard,” I hissed under my breath. “Who the hell does he think he is? Getting pissed at me because I wanted to go home.”

Finishing my shower quickly, I toweled off and stomped into my bedroom, still very much pissed off.

I had tossed my phone on my bed when I came in, and I could see the light going off as he kept calling me. Oddly, I was experiencing stabbing pangs of guilt, so I quickly got dressed in some baggy cargo pants and a tank top to take my mind off of it. Lying down on the bed, I pulled out a spliff and lit it up. After a few drags, the screen on my phone lit up again, and I snapped it open.

“Yeah?” I barked, my voice chocked full of irritation.

He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I am. I was a complete—”

“Asshole,” I stated.

“That, too.”

“I don’t deserve to be treated like that because you’re not getting what you want,” I vented. “I’m not getting what I want either. We said we’d do this right. That means taking our time, getting to know one another, and not fucking each other like a couple of sluts.”

“I know, Kenna—”

“Do you?” I snapped. I took a drag. “I get it. You’re used to having women throw themselves at you—”

“It’s not about that,” he snapped right back. “I want to be with you—all the time! When you’re not around, it feels…” He swallowed loudly. “It feels as though I can’t fuckin’ breathe right. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long that just being in the same room with you is enough to make me happy. If I can look up and see you and hear you and touch you, then I know that this is real and not just another dream.”

Well, damn. I never considered it like that.

“I’m fuckin’ terrified,” he said softly. That simple confession sounded slightly tortured. “I’m so scared that I’ll wake up tomorrow and find all this has been the greatest dream I’ve ever had. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“It’s not a dream,” I said quietly. “And I’m scared, too. I’m scared you’ll wake up and realize that I’m really nothing special, that I’ll never live up to this ideal you have of me in your head. I’m terrified that you’ll see me as just one of the legions that you’ve had before—”

“How the fu—” He was so pissed that he was choking on his own words.

Shit.

“How can you even fuckin’—”

“Easy. Because I’m no different from any other person,” I told him. “You can’t honestly believe I don’t wonder what it is you see in me. You can have any woman you want. Someone as beautiful and famous as you are—”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it, if you keep talkin’ this shit, Baby Girl. I’m gonna flat-out lose my shit—”

“Why?”

“Because there is no one else for me but you! Can you honestly tell me you don’t feel that?”

His voice was steadily increasing in volume, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear or risk damaging my hearing.

“I do feel that way about you,” I tried to assure him. “I just can’t help but wonder what it is you see in me.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? You’re amazin’ and brilliant and so fuckin’ gorgeous that I can hardly look at you without my dick salutin’ you. I’ve spent these last years locked in my own mental hell because there is nothing I want more than to be yours! Everythin’—from the way you laugh to the way you think and even the fuckin’ way you smell…it’s everythin’ I want to bury myself in! And I don’t care if it’s sick or fucked up or just fuckin’ wrong. I’ve never felt so right as I do when I’m with you. I know who I am when I’m with you!”

Holy fucking shit.

“Damn it, Phil.” I sniffed, my eyes and nose starting to burn.

His breath was coming out in harsh bursts. “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to cry, Baby Girl.”

“Well, don’t say shit like that to me then!” I wailed and proceeded to burst into snorting sobs.

I heard him sigh. He waited until I finished.

“I don’t ever want to have this conversation again,” he told me. “I never want you to question your own worth in my eyes ever again. What I see in you is the greatest thing in my world, and it has been since the moment I first saw you, all right?”

“All right.”

We were quiet for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts. There were so many things I wanted to know, that I needed to figure out, and the only way that would happen was if I didn’t remain silent.

“Why do you call me Baby Girl?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just feel like that’s what I should call you.”

“You’ve never called anyone else that?”

“No. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“There’s only one Baby Girl,” he said with a tired sigh. “And it’s only ever been you.”

My heart warmed with his words. “I love that you call me that. The first time I heard it in ‘A Madman’s Love Letter,’ I wanted to believe so badly that you wrote that about me, which is sick considering—”

He laughed. “Funny thing about that, it wasn’t meant to be anything. I was stuck in the studio late one night to fix some lyrics for ‘A Fist to the Face,’ but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I, uh…I record a lot of my thoughts down ’cause it helps me write later on. Well, the tape was rollin’, and…I just started sayin’ shit about what I’d do if I ever got my hands on you.”