“Counsel,” he said with a tip of his hat.
Standing beside a police cruiser talking to an officer, Vince stood in a sleeveless black shirt with a cigarette dangling from his lips. A habit he had given up two years prior, the stress associated with shooting someone had probably caused so much mental anguish that he had to have a cigarette just to keep his sanity.
“Not another word,” I said as I walked up to where he was standing.
Vince turned to face me, glanced at my boots, shook his head, and grinned. “We’re done here.”
I turned toward the officer. “I’m his legal counsel.”
He glanced down at my boots, slowly shifted his eyes up along my frame, and locked them on mine when our eyes met.
“Is that right?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “Sure is.”
“Well, doesn’t look like he’s going to need any,” the officer said with a light laugh. “He clearly shot this shit bird in self-defense.”
He turned toward Vince, nodded his head, and extended his hand. “Appreciate your help with the report.”
Vince tossed the cigarette at his feet, blew out a cloud of smoke, and shook the officer’s hand. I was thoroughly confused. From what Vince had said when he called from the mail lady’s phone, he was involved in a shoot-out with a guy he was trying to convince to pay his debt. He was, at least at that time, worried he may be charged with murder.
Seeing his smiling face, jovial mood, and lack of overall concern made me immediately feel comfortable that something must have changed drastically. The officer clutched his notepad, turned, and walked toward another officer. After he was far enough away from where we stood that he was incapable of hearing us, I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Self-defense, I’m free to go,” he said.
“Nice shirt,” I said as I nodded my head toward what I could now see was formerly his nice black dress shirt.
He glanced at each tattooed arm, flexed his biceps, and grinned as he did so. “Cut off the sleeves to make a tourniquet,” he said.
“I fucking love you,” I whispered.
“I love you,” he responded.
“So we can go?” I asked.
He glanced around the chaotic scene and nodded his head as he turned toward me.
“The mail lady gave her testimony to the officers before they got her hauled away and it matched mine perfectly. Hell, they’re calling me a fucking hero. The dead guy had a few outstanding warrants, the gun he used was stolen, and I fired in self-defense. I told them why I was here,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “And they didn’t give a fuck.”
I nodded my head and forced a smile. I was far from happy, but very relieved he was unharmed and wasn’t going to be arrested.
“My gun’s registered and I have a permit for it. His was stolen. He shot the mail lady, and only after he shot the mail lady did I even pull my gun. I’m free to go,” he said.
“He shot at you first?” I asked.
He widened his eyes as he shook his head lightly. “Actually he got two shot off.”
I stood and stared. “You said you always shoot first. Always. You said there was nothing for me to worry about, ever. You said ever, Vince”
“Yeah, we probably need to have a talk,” he said.
“About?” I asked as I turned toward the Continental.
“Fucking,” he said. “We need to slow down on the fucking. It’s making me soft.”
“Not an option,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll just buy you a bullet proof vest.”
“I’m being serious,” he said.
“So am I,” I responded as I began to walk toward my car.
So am I.
VINCE
February 14th, 2015
Sienna and I had continued our ritual of eating out on Sunday’s for lunch, and often went together to my mother’s house in the late afternoon for dinner. When the weather was nice, we typically met at the establishment because I was on my motorcycle, and even though the warm winter days were warm enough for me, they were never warm enough for her. On this particular day, the forecast had called for cold enough weather that my bike was locked in her garage, and we intended to ride in her car.
I stepped from the shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and walked toward the vanity to shave my neck. My beard was now pretty long, and according to Sienna, was the best aphrodisiac ever. I never understood the fascination some women had with beards, but I wasn’t one to argue with her, especially after she described herself as weak when it came to having sex with me while I had a full beard.
She had proven to be the best possible sexual match for me, and although my deep sexual desires were never met – or even discussed – with Natalie, I had no deep desires with Sienna, everything was a reality.
After shaving my neck, pulling on a pair of jeans, and grabbing a white tee shirt, I walked from the bedroom and into the living room while unfolding the shirt. Sienna appeared comfortable on her back with her Kindle held in the air, still dressed in a pair of pink plaid pajamas and matching pink plaid house shoes. Hanging over her shoulders and draped onto the couch, her hair looked perfect, as always.
Engrossed in her book, and unaware I had even entered the room, she continued to read as I walked across the room. As I pulled the shirt over my head, I paused and said what I was thinking.
“You’re pretty,” I said.
She lowered her Kindle onto her chest, draped her head over the side of the couch, and cleared her throat. “I’m always prettier with your big dick in my mouth. You know that, right?”
There was no doubt Sienna was different than most women in almost all respects, and sex certainly wasn’t excluded from the differences. She didn’t care much for me making slow, kind, caring passionate love to her.
Sienna liked being fucked.
And, as fate would have it, I liked fucking her.
I pulled my shirt over my head, unzipped my jeans, and admired her for a short moment. The mid-day sunlight made her hair even more beautiful than it was in its absence. Impatient, as always, she released the Kindle from her grasp, opened her mouth, and extended both her thumbs in the air.
“Do it,” she said.
I really didn’t need any more of an invitation to stick my cock in her mouth. My only problem, if it was truly a problem, was that I was incapable of lasting more than a few minutes while watching her suck my dick, and for whatever reason, I was incapable of closing my eyes while she did so. It simply felt too damned good and she looked great doing it. As a result, almost immediately following her performance on me orally, I would pull out of her mouth and start fucking her. I suspected she was well aware wrapping her soft lips around the head of my dick wasn’t a prerequisite to having sex, but her doing it always seemed to lead to me fucking her.
Her consistent offering to suck my cock stood as a pretty solid indication that she used her oral skills to coerce me to have sex with her.
Either way, the process was something we both seemed to enjoy immensely.
I kicked my jeans to the side, gripped my cock in my hand, and began to stroke it while I walked toward her. Laying on her back with her head dangling off the side of the couch, I knew not only that I’d be able to force myself deep into her throat with her in that position, but that I wouldn’t last a matter of minutes.
As I watched the head of my dick slip past her lips, I considered closing my eyes and face fucking her into a whimpering little pile, but I couldn’t force myself to either shut my eyes or turn my head the other direction.
She was right.
She was prettier with my cock in her mouth.
After a few seconds of her sucking and licking masterfully, I began to buck my hips back and forth. Within ten seconds, I was burying my cock deep in her throat, and she eagerly accepted every inch of it.
Watching my shaft disappear into her mouth provided a sense of satisfaction that was not onl
y sexual, sensual, and fueled my dark and dirty inner being, but provided confirmation of just how compatible we truly were. Sienna liked having my cock in her mouth just as much as I liked it there.
And I really liked it there.
A few more slow strokes into her mouth, and I felt my scrotum begin to tighten.
“Time to switch it up,” I said as I pulled myself from her mouth.
“Fuck my mouth,” she said as she turned her head to the side and blinked her big brown eyes. “Please.”
“You little fucking tease,” I said. “Get up.”
“I’m not a tease,” she said as she stood, wiping her mouth free of saliva with the back of her hand.
“A tease teases. I want that cock in my mouth,” she said as she kicked her shoes to the side and pushed her pajamas and underwear off in one effortless motion.
“I want world peace, and eighty degree median temperature, and gas prices to plummet below a dollar a gallon,” I said. “But we don’t always get what we want.”
She huffed out a sigh, bent over the couch, and acted as though I was cheating her out of something she was truly entitled to. With her cute little ass sticking up in the air, and her pussy right in front of me for the taking, I stroked my cock with one hand and slapped her ass with the other.
“Sorry, but I’m not fucking you from behind,” I said.
She glanced over her shoulder and puffed out a pouty lip. “Why?”
I rubbed my beard with my left hand and continued to stroke my cock with my right. “Because I love you.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth between my cock and my beard. After glancing at each a few times, she sighed heavily. “If you truly loved me, you’d just shove that in me right now.”
I released my cock, reached around her waist, and lifted her from the floor. “When we’re done, tell me if you hated this.”
“Hate what?” she asked.
I lifted her into my arms fully, walked into her bedroom, and lowered her onto the bed, facing up. As she peered up and into my eyes, I crawled on top of her and began to kiss her deeply. With our lips pressed firmly against each other and our tongues intertwined, she began to moan in pleasure.
Purposefully making sure there was no penetration, at least not yet, I moved my mouth along her jaw and began to kiss her neck while grinding my hips against hers. A quick glance toward her face produced an image of her biting her lip and writhing in suppressed sexual agony.
My mouth slowly slid along her skin from her shoulder to her chest, kissing along the surface of her skin the entire way, and eventually came to a stop at her breasts. Kissing her nipples and massaging her breasts in my hands, I pressed against her firmly and ground my hip bones against hers. In a show of her sexual satisfaction, or quite possibly her frustration, she arched her back and pressed the backs of her shoulders deeply into the comforter. With her perky breast now pushed fully into my mouth, I squeezed the other in my hand and twisted her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
“Please…” she moaned.
I lifted my free hand to her mouth and covered her lips with my index finger. “Shhh.”
I raised myself slightly and worked my way along the length of her body until my mouth met her waiting swollen mound. I slowly began to work my right finger in and out of her wet folds as I sucked and licked her clit with precision.
She bucked her hips against my face and I continued to lick her pussy and suck her clit as if my life depended on it. My tongue as deep as I was able to force it while my finger rhythmically continued to work her into a sexual frenzy quickly proved to be too much for her. A loud wailing sound silenced by a pillow against her face confirmed her satisfaction and having reached climax.
I raised my head in enough time to see her remove the pillow from her face and toss it aside. Her eyes met mine and remained fixed for a moment, but not a word was shared. I admired her beautiful face and allowed her a moment to regain her senses.
Sienna’s beauty wasn’t simple.
There was no disputing Sienna was a beautiful woman in her outward appearance. Often times, I found myself simply standing and staring at her, incapable of believing she truly existed in the sense she did, and that she did so with such ease.
Her willingness to eagerly participate in the act of living life was testament to her inner beauty. A woman who refused to allow the unfortunate events in her life to bring her down in spirit, she held her head high and lived life completely and to the fullest. Always giving those around her a smile, if for no other reason but to confirm her position on life, she exuded her beauty from her very being.
But nothing Sienna did, believed, or participated in was quite as beautiful as the scent of her having reached climax on my face.
I slowly inhaled a deep breath through my nose, savoring her aroma as I did so. As her head collapsed onto the bed, I carefully crawled on top of her and began to kiss her sensually.
Our mouths pressed against each other and our bodies chest to chest, I continued to kiss her as I guided my stiff cock inside her wetness. As I slowly and silently began to work my hips back and forth, she bit into my lower lip and held her bite, moaning as I continued the steady rhythmic pace.
I slid my hands under her shoulders and held her chest tight against mine, working myself in and out of her warmth in a balanced and predictable motion. Each stroke of my cock was full and forceful, but not abrupt.
After five minutes of my body grinding against her, and our mouths encompassed in a kiss the entire time, she released my lips and tilted her head back. As I continued my long, full strokes, I lifted my body from hers, arched my back, and worked my long shaft in and out with a forceful grace.
As I released every drop of my love into her, she relaxed and howled into the room, providing all she needed to confirm she loved me as deeply and as permanently as I loved her. I collapsed on the bed, drained of every ounce of energy, and satisfied completely that I had provided her a powerful message of my love. Eventually her breathing became less intense, and slowed to a steady pace. After a few minutes of silence, she turned toward me and smiled.
“You were right,” she said.
I raised my head from the bed and turned toward her as I rested my jaw in my palm. “About what?” I asked.
“I didn’t hate that,” she said. “Not one bit.”
I nodded my head and didn’t say a word. I’d proven my point. I didn’t hate it either. I knew I wouldn’t.
It was the first time we actually made love.
And I tricked her into doing it on Valentine’s Day.
Score: Vince 1, Sienna 0.
SIENNA
March 16th, 2015
The routine I had developed over the last nine months not only provided me with a sense of security, but gave me great satisfaction. My adult life, finally, was exactly where I had always hoped it would be. To have everything I had always dreamed of after spending five years doubting it would ever exist made the taste of it all so much sweeter.
I had read half a dozen books a week for as long as I could remember. The count was well into many thousands, and almost all of them had been romance novels. I had never, however, read a book that depicted a relationship or romance as sweet as the one I was living with Vince.
Having been raised by a father who instilled tremendous moral value, a mother who stressed the importance of loyalty and love, and a motorcycle club who required he be strong, fearless, and selfless, Vince was the perfect mixture of what made the perfect man the perfect man.
His mother was exactly as I pictured a mother should be; loving, caring, nurturing, demanding at times, sentimental when she needed to be, and funny. At this juncture in our relationship, my friendship I had developed with his mother was almost as important as the relationship I had with Vince.
“Bradley, you know better. Don’t ‘snatch’, it’s not polite,” she said as she waved her fork in Bradley’s direction.
Bradley had just aggressively taken a bite of tama
le from Anita’s fingers before she told him he could have it. Now sitting on the floor beside her chair trying to decide if he wanted to chew the food and eat it or spit it on the floor, Bradley wallowed the tamale around in his mouth as if he’d been given a rubber ball to eat.
“That dog is going to explode. Who feeds their dog Mexican food? I’ll tell you who. Nobody, that’s who,” Vince said as he grabbed a tamale from the platter.
I shifted my eyes from Vince to Anita and waited for it…
“He wanted a bite,” Anita said. “He asked for it.”
I bit into my taco and shifted my eyes back to Vince.
“He’s a dog, Ma. A dog. He didn’t look at a menu and see we were having Mexican food and ask for a bite of tamale. He knows we’re sitting here eating, and he wanted some of what we were eating, because he’s fat and he’s always hungry. If he’d have known it was Mexican food, he wouldn’t have asked,” Vince explained.
And, back to Anita.
She pointed her fork at Vince and wagged the end of it up and down. “You know, for as smart as you are, and for as many books as you’ve read, sometimes you surprise me, Stephen. He knows it’s Mexican food, he sat in the kitchen and watched me make each and every bit of it. Long before you were here I might add.”
I glanced at Vince.
Vince poked a bite of tamale into his mouth, chewed it, and before he swallowed, spoke over his mouth full of food. “Oh, now he can recognize ingredients, huh?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Stephen. I swear, your father would have smacked you for that, and you know it,” she said in a scolding tone.
“He knows better, Honey. I’m sorry,” Anita said as she patted her hand against my knee.
I turned toward her and smiled. “The food’s so good. I love it.”
“Why, thank you,” she said.
“Watch this,” Vince said.