Red Hot Blues (14 page)

I don’t ask about it.

“Wallet,” he says. “But I’ll have to get some
more. Because I only have two.”

Gush.

I grab his wallet, grab the rubber. He takes
it from me, puts it on himself. I’m glad he does, because I really
don’t know too well how these things work...

I get on top of him, momentarily a little
afraid that I’ll crush him.

God, he’s sexy. So sexy. How the
fuck
did I score
this!?

I don’t question it. I just decide to enjoy
it.

On my knees. Straddling him. Feeling the tip
of his cock as it presses against my entrance, just the tip, I
start to shake—

“Wait,” he says, desperate. “Wait. Hold it
there.”

His tip is just inside me. The need to have
him thrust deeply up into me is maddening, all-engulfing. It’s all
I can think of in this moment, like a man to water in the desert.
My mind is clouded: Just one. Single. Thought.

“Wait. Please.” His eyes are so desperate.
“This just feels so good.
You
feel so good.” He rubs my
thighs. My legs start to tremble.

“I can’t hold it any longer, Ace. I—”

I get off him, lie back. I’m sizzling,
tingling.

“I want you on top of me, Gin. Please.”

I laugh, because it feels so impossible to
get on top of him again. Just the mere touch of him to me, in my
most sensitive area, makes me lose all the strength in my legs! I
get up. Straddle him again. He grabs his shaft, maneuvers it so the
tip is just touching me, just as it was before. He moves it
backwards and I see my swollen lips engulf his tip.

“Oh, god,” I say, yearning.

He rubs the tip again bottom to top, much
like his tongue had done only minutes ago.

Then he puts it so the tip is just touching,
just entering me. Again.

Oh god.

I start to shake. My legs start to tremble.
So close. Oh, my god I need to feel you inside me, I need you to
thrust up into me and satiate this need—

And then, just like that, without warning, he
does.

“Oh-yeah!”

My words are a low, rumbling, earth-trembling
moan
.

But he doesn’t pump. He
holds
himself
there—ass up off the bed and
driving
up into me!—and this
position is
so
wild because it’s
so
deep and I feel
my eyes loll back and I lose all strength in my neck muscles—

“I’m yours,” I say. It was a thought, but it
came out aloud. “Completely yours.”

My head’s tilted back. My mind’s on
opium.

He keeps holding himself up inside me, his
shaft penetrating and impaling deep within me. And I’m butter in
the hot sun.

He brings himself down to the bed again, and
me down with him. His abs are incredible. I counted six sharp ones,
and then another two pretty well defined ones below that!

I start to bend forward, just to ease the
depth, but he says, “No, please, this is good. I like it.”

“It’s deep,” I counter.

“I know. But it feels good for me.”

Me too. It’s just deep. So deep. I feel
completely yours like this. Completely owned by you.
Completely...fragile.
“I guess it takes a lot of trust to stay
like this,” I say. His cock twitches once inside me, and I see his
eyes tighten. In my inexperience, I figure he’s about to blow.

But he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I guess it does. Rock for me, Gin.
Just rock slowly, back and forth. Just a little.”

I do as he says. His expression and groans
tell me I’m doing the right thing.

I press down against him with my nub, but
inside me, oh god, inside me it’s a shaft of hard metal and I’m
dangling off of it.

It’s exquisite. It’s incredible. It’s the
best goddamn physical sensation I’ve ever had in my life!

He starts to move his pelvis, up, down. Back.
Forth. Then up and down again.

We settle into a rhythm. A slow, easy rhythm.
Where both of us are on the edge but never getting any further.
Every now and then he says, “Stop. Stop. Wait.” And I do.

“You don’t want to come?”

“I want to be inside you for as long as I
can. I like being inside you.”

Gush.

I can’t say anything to that. Can’t.
Speechless.

So I rock. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

As I do it, my body gets hotter. Actually
hotter
. It feels like the AC needs to be made cooler but
when I look at it I see it’s on sixty already.

And we rock. Slowly. Moaning. Groaning. The
moment lasting forever.

With his cock way deep inside me, and his
hands on my thighs, and me rocking and pushing and melting and
burning, he says to me, “Tell me about yourself.”

Huh?

I give a nervous gasp. I’m so horny.
So
horny! And he asks me
this
!? “What?”

“I said—
oh yeah
—tell me about
yourself.”

“Right now?”

“
Mmmmmm.
Yeah, right now. Tell me
about yourself.”

I can’t believe this. “You’re making me self
conscious.”

“Gin, you have my cock clamped between
your...you know. So you have nothing to be self—
oh, god, that’s
incredible
. You have nothing to be self-conscious about.”

I rock him. Back and forth. “What do...” I
lose my train of thought as I feel the tip of him push right up
into me. I shift up a little.

By now the moisture is dripping out of me
like an open bottle.

I’ve lost track of time, but we’ve been at
this, slowly, for easily twenty minutes. Easily. I’ve come close to
coming about eight times in those minutes, but he’s held me back
each time. Each time he’s said,
No, make it last. Make it last.
I love this. I love this with you. I love it. I love this
feeling.

Love.

“Gin?”

“
Mmmmm?
”

“Tell me. Please.”

I rub his chest with my hands, really get
into the
roll
of it with my hips. Ride him. “Well, I’m from
all over the place.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Like me,” he offers.

“Yeah, I guess.”

In between our words, are breaths. And every
sentence sounds like a sexual groan.

“Why?” he asks, breathy.

“Why what?” I’m losing track of the
discussion again. All my attention going to one precise point.

“Why are you from everywhere?”

“Because...”
Wow, that’s incredible.
“...my mom marries for...
Oh, god, Ace, baby.
”

When did I start calling him baby?

“Tell me, please, Gin. Tell me.
Oh
yeah
. I wanna know. Tell me everything about you.”

Oh god, this is getting difficult.
The
pressure is so localized. I just want to Energizer Bunny this baby
out of the ballpark! But I feel Ace’s grip on my thighs, my waist,
never letting go, always holding me, always keeping me slow and
steady. I see him looking at the small butterfly tattoo above my
hip.

I see his eyes raking me. Their glare like a
hand touching my moist breast, my stomach, my skin. Just like that
first night he saw me and I felt like he fucked me with his eyes.
Yeah,
fucked
me with his eyes.

And he’s doing the same again now.

Only he’s also fucking me with his cock as
well.

Oh, hell, my language!

But I’m distracted. So distracted.

“Gin.”

Somewhere else: “
Mmmmm?
”

“Your mom. What were you telling me? She
marries for...?”

“Oh, right”—
Oh, god
—“money.
Married
for money. She’s got all the money she—
oh, hell
that was deep!
—All the money she...
needs
... Oh, Ace, I’m
gonna burst, honey. I’m really gonna— Oh— Oh—”

“Wait! Wait!” He lifts! He holds me. He—

There’s no use. Because I’m over the
edge.

I start shaking, convulsing! He sits up,
grabs
me! He holds me to him, chest to chest, soft to hard.
And all the while, every second of it, I’m exploding.

My forehead on his shoulder. Me holding him.
Rocking. But not at the hips. It’s our entire bodies. It’s not
rocking for an erogenous reason. It’s rocking because the world is
moving. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“No, don’t be. It was...so beautiful.
You
are so beautiful.”

I don’t respond.

“Was it at least good for you as well?” I can
feel he’s still hard, and I figure he’ll soften soon.

“Uhm, actually, I managed to hold on.
Somehow.”

“Oh.” I pull back, look him in the eyes.

I kiss him on the lips. This is feeling a lot
more closer than I’d hoped it would. It’s going to be hard to let
him go.

But we’ll stay friends. Yeah, we’ll stay
friends. That’s possible, isn’t it?

“What should I do?” I ask.

He smiles. Lifts me up, removing himself from
me. Lays me on my back. He gets off the bed, stands.

He yanks me toward the end of the bed and all
his muscles tense up as he does it. He pushes my left leg up. My
other leg dangles off the edge. I’m wide,
wide
open for him.
He grabs himself, presses into me, just the tip, as before.

I’m a lot looser now, I know. I’m spent.
Satisfied.
Amazed
! I’m hoping it’ll still be good for
him.

With my left leg over his shoulder, and his
left hand by my ear, he thrusts into me.

And then he pumps. Wildly. Endlessly.
Working
for that explosion.

And when he finally does burst, it’s
dazzling, marvelous, fireworks in my eyes. Every muscle in his face
contorts, redness flushes all over him. His chest and abs and neck
muscles become striated lines of ragged flesh.

I feel his cock pulse inside me, jerking and
tugging and fighting for release.

And then he roars. And he keeps roaring,
while he’s still doing me, pumping into me, madly, at an insane
rate, never stopping, always in and out, screaming, begging,
bursting. I feel him twitch and pull and tug. I even feel myself
tighten again, just slightly.

Finally, he drops on me, but still keeps
moving in and out of me, slowly.

Eventually that also fades.

He’s dripping, sweat pouring from all over
him.

He’s magnificent. Amazing, absolutely
amazing.

I’m horny again. I am. I was OK before, but
now I’m not.

He kisses my lips. Quietly, passionately.

“What is it?” he says.

“You got me horny again. I thought I was done
but...” I laugh.

Laughing is becoming easier around him.
Talking is becoming easier around him. Everything is becoming
easier around him.

Oh, hell, this is really going to hurt in
the end.

He smiles. Starts moving in and out of me
some more.

My eyes go wide. “What are you doing?” I ask,
incredulous.

“You said you were horny again.”

“Don’t...” I flick my finger in “his” general
direction. “...those things go soft after they’re done?”

He thrusts harder, deeper. My eyes roll back
with pleasure. He’s not completely erect, but he’s not soft
either.

“Sometimes, when a guy is
really
horny, or when he’s been made to wait for too long....well, he can
take another go.”

I smile. Bright and wide. Cheshire grin.
“Well, fire away, bronco.” Not romantic. No. But I feel like I can
say these things around him. I feel like I can say anything around
him.

He does fire away. And we both come again.
It’s better this time. Incredibly better. Because the wild frenzy
of before is gone. I can feel him more, hold him more, enjoy the
sweat of our skin touching more.

And inside, in my heart, it hurts a little
more. Because the better it gets, the worse it gets.

This was just supposed to have been a little
bit of fun. Getting back on the horse, so to speak.

But now it’s gotten serious.

We lie on the bed afterwards, just chilling,
shooting the shit, the night wasting away. We look up at the
ceiling, feel the breeze of the AC on our drenched skins. We might
as well have skipped the shower, because we’re both sweaty as hell
after the sex.

I broke my rule. And now I hate myself for
it.

I like her. I’d like to hang out with her.
But sex always makes things serious. I know she wants to keep it
light, but we can’t. It just doesn’t work that way with me.

Hours later, after we talk about music and
movies and favorite foods, there’s nothing left to talk about
but
serious.

And she’s the one who starts it:

“So, what happened to your face, Ace? I mean,
what
really
happened?”

She’s looking up. I’m looking up.

So I tell her.

Aaron had called me on Sunday. “Ace, you
gotta come’n down here, boy. Yo daddy’s done losin his mind, son. I
cain get involved. I cain’t. But I will if I have to. I will.”

He did get involved. Aaron heard things
breaking in the house and ran in. He’d been standing guard all
night, right outside, listening.

This was several hours after he’d called me.
I was already on the road, hightailing it through the middle of the
night trying to get back to Virginia from Memphis.

It’s a long drive.

Aaron told me later that he went in the house
only to find my daddy passed out on the ground, revolver in his
hand, a drop of blood on his head. Momma’s dress torn. A bloody
statue in her hand.

“Evathin OK, Mizz Travers?” he asked her.

“Everything’s fine, Aaron. Don’t you worry
yourself now, honey.”

He stayed, looked at the decanter on the
table, dad’s body on the ground. Drunk. Stinking drunk.

And the gun, in his hand.

“Things sure don’t look OK, Mizz
Travers.”

Momma wouldn’t speak down to Aaron, not like
Daddy does. She felt flustered. She probably wanted to tell him
where to shove it, because he’d walked right into the middle of it.
But she kept her cool.