She gulps. “Not really.”
She’s got goose-bumps everywhere, I can see them even in the dark. So I’m affecting her. Nice.
I slide my fingers along her arm to make sure. Yep, her nerves are on edge.
“So, now they’re really not funny?”
“Nope.”
She looks almost terrified, but that might be because my bulge is pressed against her.
“Millie?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to alarm you. But I have a penis. And it’s in the erect form right now.”
Her eyes are wide as she stares into mine. “I know. I feel it.”
“Well, just in case there was confusion, I wanted to clear it up.”
She smiles, and the tension is alleviated. Some.
“Can I touch it?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
I close my eyes as her tentative fingers find me, palming me, stroking me. She has absolutely no experience, but my dick doesn’t know that. It hardens even more beneath her fingers, and she sucks in a breath.
“It’s bigger now, Racer.”
“Yup, honey. That’s what happens.”
It’s practically as hard as concrete as her fingers trace it, grip it, slide back and forth on it. I grit my teeth.
“Millie?”
Her eyes are closed, too. I know that because I open mine, and she’s got the most adorable look on her face as she explores my nethers.
“You’re going to drive me to the brink, darlin.”
Her eyes pop open.
“The brink?”
“Yeah. Want me to show you want the brink is like?”
She’s still for a minute, but curiosity gets the best of her, like I knew it would. She gulps.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Close your eyes and relax.”
She obeys me, surprisingly, and I kiss the side of her neck. She tastes like strawberries and cream, and her skin is achingly soft. My fingers find their way into her panties, and every ounce of her breath leaves her lungs as I move them against her.
I find exactly where she wants to be touched, and she arches against my hand.
“Dear God, Racer,” she breathes into my ear, her eyes still closed.
“Let’s leave Him out of it for the moment,” I suggest.
She smiles against my neck, and my fingers move faster and faster, as my other arm grips her close, pulling her tightly against me. Her heart beats rapidly against mine, like a Hummingbird.
“Racer... I feel.. Oh my god. Oh my God.”
I keep moving but I whisper to her. “If I stopped right now, it would be the brink. Do you want me to stop?”
She shakes her head and buries her head into my chest.
“Say it, Millie. Say the words.”
“Don’t stop,” she pants. “Please, Racer.”
I thought so.
I pick up the pace, driving her to the edge, and she shrieks a little as she tumbles over… her entire body stiffening and convulsing beneath my hand.
Lord, that’s satisfying.
After a few minutes, she relaxes and she’s too embarrassed to look at me. A blush graces her cheeks and she looks away.
“I don’t know if I was supposed to do that.”
I chuckle, my thumb tracing her cheek.
“Hell, yeah, you were. That’s called an orgasm, love.”
“I didn’t know it would be like that.”
“It is. And you know what else? It gets better every time.”
She swallows hard. “What about you? Do you want to? Orgasm, I mean?”
Lord, it’s tempting. Lord, I want to.
But not yet.
“It’ll be your first time,” I remind her. “I don’t want your first time to be in the Terror Tunnel. What kind of story would that be to tell your grandkids?”
She giggles. “I don’t think I’ll ever be telling my grandkids about the time I lost my virginity.”
“Never say never, Millie.”
She sags into me, and her fingers grip my bicep.
“I want to get to know you better, Racer. No matter what your mom says. Or anyone, actually.”
“We will, Millie. That’s a promise.”
She closes her eyes and rests, and my fingers splay on her back.
“Millie?” I ask, and her eyes open. “I have a question.”
“Go on. Anything.”
I pause, then go for it.
“Millie, can I lick your face?”
“What?” she crinkles her brow.
“Can I lick your face?”
I don’t give her a chance to answer. She doesn’t get a choice anymore, so I take charge and very slowly start at her chin with my tongue and work my way up…
Chapter Seven
Millie
He licks and licks, relentlessly bathing my face, his tongue wet and rough. It’s weird.
“Racer?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Racer?”
I open my eyes, and I have to do a double-take.
I’m in my bed.
In my parents’ house.
On the Farm.
With my cat, Beamer, licking my cheek.
I sit straight up.
No.
No.
No.
Noooooooo.
This can’t be happening.
I’m not here. I’m in Clown Town. With a sexy guy. And I just had my first sexual experience. And first orgasm. I’m still tingling between my legs, for God’s sake.
I jump up and run to the bathroom, staring into the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes are glassy, and can women have wet dreams?? Because I’m moist down there.
Holy shit.
This can’t be happening.
I’m devastated as I slump against the sink.
Absolutely devastated.
My breathing is still labored when my sister pushes her way into the bathroom.
“Hey, Lazy. Mom’s been looking for you. You’re not supposed to sleep until noon.”
I want to strangle her and everyone else in this reality.
“I was dreaming,” I mumble, grasping for my toothbrush in the hopes of looking normal, and not like some weirdo who just had a wet dream.
Claude looks at me, puzzled. “Yeah. Whatever. I had to do your chores. You owe me.”
“Whatever.”
I bend forward to get the toothpaste, and Claude reaches out a finger, wiping at the side of my jaw.
“What’s this?”
She holds out her finger, and white paint is on the tip.
White make-up.
Clown make-up.
I’m frozen as I stare at her, and all of my dream comes back to me… the pieces falling together to make one complete picture in my head. Racer and I in our hula-hoop clown pants, and that time I put make-up on his nipple.
All of it.
But it was a dream.
Wasn’t it?
Claude waves her white-tipped finger. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” I finally shrug. “Frosting?”
She wipes it on a towel. “Whatever. Come downstairs, Dad wants you. He’s outside.”
She starts to leave, but I put my hand on her arm.
“Wait. Have you ever had a dream so real that you thought it was?”
Claude puckers up her mouth, thinking.
“Maybe. I once dreamed that I was in the spelling bee in high school, stark naked and Lenny Coonz was tickling my feet. Does that count?”
“No. I meant…something that felt like it actually happened, but it couldn’t have.. because it just couldn’t have. Do you believe in supernatural things? Or maybe it was déjà vu, or I don’t even know what to call it.”
She stares at me. “Millie, you’re freaking me out. You’re so weird.”
She ducks out of the room, and I get ready, splashing
some water on my face and throwing some old work-clothes on—torn jeans and a ratty t-shirt. My hair is up in a bun, and I grab a roll on the way through the kitchen.
“Morning, mom,” I call over my shoulder, still trying to orient myself into this reality.
Why am I here? I thought I’d gotten away… to better things. Or at least, to independence.
I’m desolate as I head toward the barn, where I know my dad will be. He’s always there. It’s hot, it’s dusty, and I usually avoid it at all costs.
I take a deep breath as I step inside, inhaling the hay and grain and animal smells.
“Dad?”
“Over here, Mil.”
I find him, and when I do, he’s standing with someone, a worker, I guess. The guy is tall and skinny, dressed in work-clothes and boots.
“Millie, we’re getting a summer hand. I want you to show him around today. Show him the help’s quarters, and all. This here is my girl, Millie,” he tells the boy.
The boy turns around, and Holy God.
“Racer,” I breathe.
It’s him. It’s his face and ornery eyes, and rumpled hair, and full mouth. It’s him. But it can’t be him.
“How did you know that?” he wrinkles his brow while he smiles. “No one has called me that in years. My grandma used to, actually. When I was little. She’s dead now, though… buried in Denver. Why am I telling you this?”
“I don’t know,” I stutter.
“Her name was Millie, too,” he adds. “Weird, huh?”
In my dream, the old woman on the train was named Millie. And she was from Denver. Weird, huh?
“My name is Ralstone,” he tells me, “But you can call me Ral.” He sticks out his hand, and I already know that hand. It’s calloused and big, and it brought me to orgasm just this morning… in my weird dream.
I shake it and I want to cling to it, and stick it back down in my pants, but I don’t.
That would be weird.
“I’m Millie,” I tell him, and then I blush, because he knows that.
He laughs, and he is Racer. He is. I don’t know what kind of sorcery this is, but he is Racer. I’ve seen him before. I’ve been with him before.
In my head, I hear Old Millie’s voice again.
I’ve got a very strong feeling that you’re going to fall in love this summer.
I’m lost in my own head, and I don’t come back until I hear Racer’s… errrrr Ral’s voice.
“Millie? Millie?”
I open my eyes. He must think I’m a lunatic.
“Sorry. I’m still sleepy. What were you saying?”
“I was saying… it’s nice to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you better. I’ve got a good feeling about you.”
He grins that mischievous grin, and my belly flips and flops.
“Yeah. I’ve got a good feeling about you, too.”
About the Authors
Courtney Cole is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, best known for her Beautifully Broken series and Nocte Trilogy. She loves romance, twisted plots and happily-ever-afters. She’s wildly inappropriate, collects hula girls (the dashboard kind, not real life women) and loves wine. To learn more about her, visit www.courtneycolewrites.com
Meghan Quinn was born in New York and raised in Southern California. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing... enter her first novel, Caught Looking. Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado.
www.authormeghanquinn.com
Kiss My Crown
By: Alexis Noelle
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 Ashley Piscitelli
Cover by Cover Me Darling
Photo by K Keeton Designs
All rights Reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you’re reading this and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then it was pirated illegally. Please purchase a copy of your own and respect the hard work of this author.
Chapter One
I’m going to strangle him.
No. I’m going to fucking kill him.
Better yet. I’m gonna cut his dick off.
What is it with assholes today that think it’s okay to just take a dip in whatever slut is offering herself up. It’s bad enough that I have put up with this stupid ass job just because he wants me to, but now I find out he has been out screwing every other princess in this damn park! Well all of these people are about to see less damsel in distress and more me making it so Prince Charming can’t walk straight tomorrow.
I walk through Dreamland searching for my knight in shining armor who turned out to be more like a dickhead wrapped in tinfoil. I find him waiting for me in the castle ready for our twelve o’clock performance.
This has been my life for the past year. Four performances a day and endless hours spent smiling, waving, and posing for pictures. Let’s not even talk about the amount of times I’ve been snotted on, thrown up on, and smacked away by a kid whose parent is forcing them into a picture. You go to these theme parks and think, it would be so fun to work here!
No the fuck it’s not.
It sucks ass.
It is hot as shit on a daily basis, and this ball gown must weigh at least ten pounds. Not to mention the daily migraines from the dumbass tiara and the jacked up feet from these evil glass slippers.
The best thing about this stupid job was Jeremy, getting to spend all day together. However even that was weird because no one in this crazy ass insane asylum uses real names. They take being into character to a fucking creepy extreme. They talk like their damn characters, act like them, in all scenarios it’s like they become them. Calling Jeremy Charming took a long ass time to get used to. Working here has been like moving to the twilight zone and being the only person that knows the shit isn’t real.
“Hey, Lily!” I look over at Emily, one of the ice princesses.
“Do not even ask right now! This is Florida and there are no goddamn snowmen around!” She gasps as if my comment offended her, not that I give a shit right now.
I see my prince waiting inside the castle for me so that we can start our first performance of the day. Little does he know that my glass slipper is about to get shoved up his ass.
“Hey, Lily! I thought you were going to be late.” He gives me that smile that made me fall for him in the first place, except this time it elicits a very different reaction. Let’s not even talk about how much it pisses me off that he refuses to call me by my real name. Is Kate really that hard of a name to pronounce? It’s not like my name is made up of only consonants and completely foreign.
I plaster on the princess smile and do my best to not let him onto the fact that he is caught. “Hey, sorry, had some trouble finding my glass slipper.”
He offers me his arm and I dutifully loop mine through it. We walk out of the castle and the stage is surrounded by a sea of little girls swooning over the asshole next to me, and wanting to be me. At least they think they do. The music starts to play as we begin the waltz that took me a week to learn. Only this time, instead of effortlessly performing it, I may step on Jeremy’s feet every couple seconds.
“Lily, what the hell?” He groans as quietly as he can. “Stop stepping on my feet, you aren’t the lightest and I still need to walk around all day.”
Did he just insinuate what I think he did? He’s dead. We turn toward the crowd and it’s time for me to run away, of course leaving behind a slipper, and then it’s Jeremy’s cue to chase after me. Only this time when he catches me and bends down to put my shoe back on, I have a surprise for him.
Once the shoe is on right before he stands up, I kick my leg out nailing him with the point of my heel right in his balls. It’s a good thing his back is to the crowd because Prince Charming is turning 50 shades of red. I flash my smile to the crowd of girls with misguided dreams, give them the princess wave and then walk back into the castle with Jeremy hobbling beside me.
Once we are out of sight he collapses on the floor. “What the fuck, Lily?!”
As I look down at him all of the rage I built up on my journey over here and stuffed back inside for my performance comes back full force. I grab his sword out of its holster on his belt then whack him with it.
“This is for every damn princess you slept with behind my back.”
Whack.
“This is for making me take this stupid job in the first place.”
Whack.
“This is for insinuating I was fat earlier.”
Whack.
“And this is for being fucking weird and never calling me by my real name!”
Whack.
I drop the sword causing it to clang against the floor. “Oh and just so you know. Four minutes isn’t average, asshole.”
I walk out of the castle needing to plaster on my princess face once more because I have to do a meet and greet. I feel lighter now that I have put Jeremy in his place. My best friend Melanie and one of the only other sane people in this entire park comes running up to me.
“What happened? Did you ask him about the rumors?” She is one of our evil queens and I snicker at the faces of the kids passing by and seeing us talking.
“No, I didn’t. I kicked him in the balls with my slipper and beat him with his own sword.”
Her mouth drops open before she smiles. “Hell yeah!” She hugs me and I laugh.
“Okay I have to go smile and be super happy and shit. I need to be drunk tonight.”