44 Chapters About 4 Men: A Memoir (19 page)

Just as I felt my sweet release beginning to build, I could hear the sound of Hans undoing his belt and fly.

Oh, thank God! Fuck me, Hansel! Please! Fuck me hard!

His tongue and magical fingers never left my pussy while he easily shimmied out of his skater shoes and baggy pants. The instant his mouth left my flesh, Hans peeled off his tank top and scooped me up into his arms in one fluid motion. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, hoping he would lay me down on the chaise lounge and plunge into me—or better yet, plaster my sweat-soaked body against the wall of the house so that we wouldn’t have to worry about any unexpected squeaks from the patio furniture.

Hans began walking. The feel of his calloused hands gripping my ass cheeks and his thick, firm cock grazing the inside of my thigh had me writhing with need. I thrust my hands into his sweaty hair and sucked at his swollen lips, which were slick and tangy from my own juices. My senses were so overwhelmed with desire that I didn’t even notice that Hans was carrying me away from the safety of the covered patio…until I felt lukewarm water slosh into my boots. My eyes shot open immediately to the realization that Hans was carrying me

into

the motherfucking

pool
!

Before I could yelp or thrash in protest, he thrust his tongue into my mouth and the head of his massive diamond-hard cock into my pussy.

My awareness dived below the surface of the water to where our bodies were now joined. Hans was all I could feel. There was simply no room in my consciousness to process anxiety, fear, wet, dry, hot, cold, past, future. Every sensation was flooded with Hans, and I wanted him even deeper—in every sense of the word.

Once we were completely submerged, Hans pressed my back against the cool tiled wall of the pool and filled me with not only his throbbing manhood, but also himself. Every achingly slow withdrawal felt as though it was peeling away another layer of separation between us until we were no longer two people in a pool. We were the pool. We were the unending, undulating sea.

Hans broke our kiss just long enough to whisper into my neck, “I love you.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Sure, Hans had said those three words to me a thousand times before, but I’d never really allowed myself to
hear
them until then. Until that night I had assumed that
I love you
was just something cute Hans said to all his girlfriends, and that sooner or later he’d be saying it to someone better. But I saw it in his face in the parking lot. I heard it in his voice. And I could feel it with every thrust of his hips. Hans actually
loved
me. And I was all in.

I grasped his beautiful face with both hands and urged him to look at me. When he finally complied, tiny white lights from the trees behind me danced across the shiny surface of his eyes, giving me the sense that, through those black holes of eyeliner and dark lashes, I could see directly into the heavens.

I smoothed the worried V between his brows with one thumb and whispered back, never breaking eye contact, “I. Love. You.”

Hans tightened his grip on my ass and buried himself into me as far as he could go, pressing his forehead into mine. “I love
you
.”

Hans’s words were more forceful, insistent, and resolute than before. They echoed through me, bouncing into and out of all the hollow places they’d never managed to reach before, leaving a satisfying vibration in their wake.

After a moment of reverie, Hans slowly withdrew and then plunged into me harder than before. I moaned unintentionally into his mouth.

Shit!

If he kept that up, I was going to wake up the homeowners and their ravenous pet cobras for sure. Hans’s next thrust was harder still.

Ugh!

I bit my lip to keep from groaning with pleasure as I grabbed a handful of his messy black hair and hissed into his mouth, “I love you.”

My sentiment was immediately rewarded with a pounding so forceful that water sloshed over the edge of the pool.

Kissing me just below my ear, Hans growled as he ground his hips into mine, “I love
you
.”

Abruptly, Hans tightened the grip he had on my ass and stood upright, exposing both of our naked torsos to the warm night air. I reached behind me and propped myself up with my arms on the ledge of the pool, baring my breasts to the bad boy before me but baring my soul to the sensitive artist within. Hans responded to my submission by taking my left nipple ring between his teeth and thrusting fully into me just as he bit down.

Fire.

I might have been submerged in water, but my loins and heart and lungs were ablaze with pleasure. I could only writhe and hump and moan, “I love you. I love you. I love you,” with every thrust.

I arched my back and squeezed the head of Hans’s cock with my vaginal muscles. He grunted in response and slammed himself into my tightened pussy again.

Hans withdrew and attacked, harder and faster, until the once mirrorlike body of water around us had become an uncontainable riptide of waves and lust spilling over the edges of the pool and crisscrossing through the cracks between the surrounding terra-cotta tiles.

With my right nipple between his teeth, Hans wickedly flicked his tongue across the sensitive pierced flesh until my eyes rolled back and my core contracted and my body erupted into a volcano of seminal fluids and whimpers and curse words and tears.

Hans quickly slid two wet fingertips into my mouth to silence me and growled, “God, I fucking love you,” into my neck as he poured the rest of himself into me.

We stood there in the water, eye makeup running down both of our faces, slumped over one another, panting in a tangle of postcoital bliss until our brains were able to acknowledge and process outside information again.

How long? Who knows? Time doesn’t exist in heaven.

But I do know that when I finally looked up at the house, something was different.

“Um, Hans? Was that light on before?”

“What light?” Hans’s head snapped around, and the look that flashed across his face as soon as he caught sight of that illuminated third-floor window was all the answer I needed.

Fuck!
I started sloshing my way through the pool toward the stairs, but quickly realized it was going to take me until next Tuesday with those water-and-steel-filled wrecking balls on my feet. Walking through quicksand on the lunar surface would have been easier than getting out of that pool with those goddamn cement shoes on.

That’s when I heard the sirens.

Luckily, Hans had the reaction time of a fucking ninja. Within five seconds he had scooped me up and set me on my ass on the edge of the pool, hoisted himself out, made a mad dash for the covered porch, and returned wearing his shoes and clutching our clothes under his tattooed arm like a football. Although his face was playful, Hans wasted no time in pulling me up with his free hand and whisking me and my eighty-pound boots away from that twinkling fairyland.

Hand in hand, we tore through the neighbors’ backyards in the direction of my car. The sound of our shoes sloshing and slapping the earth ricocheted through the darkness and silence and affluence surrounding us. I just prayed that the owners of the million-dollar yards we were destroying were adrift on a creamy turquoise Ambien-induced sea somewhere and couldn’t hear us cursing and giggling and tromping all over their perfectly manicured flower beds and shushing each other every time we accidentally knocked over a water feature or bumped our heads on their Corinthian wind chimes.

With every hot, humid panicked yet elated breath I sucked in, the approaching sirens grew louder. Finally, the ’stang was in sight. Hans and I tiptoed around the far side of the castle it was parked in front of and peered around to see if the coast was clear.

I looked at Hans and exaggeratedly grabbed my fisted arm in what I hoped was the universal TV cop show signal for
hold
. He waited next to the house as I scampered across the front yard, remembering on the way that I’d locked my purse in my trunk and tied my car key to one of my bootlaces since I’d worn a dress with no pockets to the concert that night.

Thank fucking God I still had my boots on! If Hansel had untied and taken them off before our little tryst in the pool, that key could have been anywhere!

I slung my forty-pound foot up and rested it on the ledge of the driver-side window. Although I was topless, I at least still had on my red thong, which had somehow shifted back into place during my five hundred yard dash. Inexplicably, the realization that my cooter wasn’t hanging out as I stood in the middle of the street with one leg up, water pouring out of my boot, while fumbling with my car door at three in the morning made me feel about a thousand percent better about the situation. I mean, I was practically wearing a whole bikini. I’d just lost the top part.

No big deal, officer. I’m sure this sort of thing happens all the time.

Finally!

I got the door open and hit the unlock button as I dived inside. I watched in awe
as Hans’s naked, muscular six-foot-three-inch silhouette sprinted across the yard toward me. I knew he’d played soccer when he was in high school, but with that physique and speed, he could have been a professional.

Could this man be any more perfect?

Just as he slammed his door shut, my rearview mirror was illuminated by flashing blue lights.

I spun around to look behind us and let out a relieved sigh when I saw that the cop car had stopped in front of the McMansion and wasn’t right on my tail. Although I was parked at least a block away in the shadow of a huge magnolia tree, I still didn’t want to draw any attention to the suspicious 1996 Ford lurched on the curb in an obviously garage-kept-import-car-driving kind of neighborhood, so Hans and I just slid down in our seats and decided to wait them out.

Even though we were naked and hiding from the police, Hans flashed me a confident rock-star smile and reached over to brush my cheek with his thumb. “That was amazing.”

“Best night of my life,” I muttered, quickly looking away as a familiar heat crept into my cheeks.

Thank God it was too dark for him to see me blush.

Hans was just so, so fucking sexy. I’d been trying to play it cool and keep my emotional distance from him all these months because I knew there was simply no way this man could ever see me the way I saw him, love me the way I feared I loved him, or be faithful to me for the rest of our lives.

And now that I was vulnerable and exposed (literally), I could barely look him in the eye out of fear of what I might find there. Would I be just another lovesick fangirl to him now that he knew he had me? Would the chase be over?

I had already begun to mourn the impending death of my relationship when Hans tilted my chin back toward him, forcing me to return his gaze.

“There you are,” he said with that signature sideways smile. “Thought I’d lost you for a minute.”

Mmm…

Looking into that dreamy face was like mainlining Xanax. The familiar fog of calm and contentment I usually felt whenever I was around Hans clouded the car until I couldn’t even remember what I’d been so worried about. Just then, I heard the sound of a car door slam shut, and I remembered pretty quickly what I should be worried about.

The fucking cops!

I fished my dress out of the pile of clothes in Hans’s lap—whose smoky eyes were now glued to my side view mirror—and shimmied it on over my head. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite tie the halter top from my fetal position under the steering wheel, but at least my bottom half was covered. Of course, the oh-so coordinated Hans managed to slip his pants back on without ever taking his eyes off the show unfolding behind us.

Curious to see what had Hans looking so serious, I climbed out of my hidey-hole and leaned across the center console to get a look at his mirror. On my way, I was momentarily distracted by the bare tattooed chest of a long, lean bass player slumped down in my passenger seat. His skin was damp and hot and smelled like chlorine, bringing to my attention the fact that I was also still topless.

Damn.
If I could just tilt that seat all the way back real quick…

Where was I? Oh, yes.

I shook off my hormones and rested my cheek on Hans’s chest so that I could see what was going on in his mirror without sitting up and blowing our cover. The cruiser still had its headlights on, and one police officer was at the ready behind the wheel.

Shit.

The cop who’d been riding shotgun was now standing in the doorway of the McMansion, talking to a middle-aged man wearing a bathrobe. I couldn’t make out much from that distance, but I distinctly saw the homeowner raise an angry-looking finger and point directly at my car.

“GO!” Hans yelled, prompting me to mechanically stomp on the clutch, crank the engine, and peel out of there, all without ever turning on my lights.

Shit, shit, shit!

Luckily, I’d driven through that neighborhood looking for free parking enough times to know an alternate way out. The sirens screamed to life the instant I pulled away.

Oh my fucking God.

My body operated that machine on muscle memory alone as my consciousness completely abandoned ship and spiraled in a million different terrible directions.

Let’s see. Where to begin? Evading the police, indecent exposure, trespassing, being in possession of false identification, underage drinking, engaging in a public sex act, disturbing the peace, speeding…

What I thought was going to go down in history as the most glorious sexual experience of my life would now be forever remembered as The Night I Got Raped in Jail. Although I’ve never heard of lady-on-lady rape, I was an underweight teenager who’d been raised by hippie pacifists. I had no self-defense skills (other than clumsily swinging my ten-ton steel-toed boots in the general direction of other people), and my only undergarment that night was a sopping wet red thong. If there had ever been a prime candidate for lady rape, it was me.

I turned right onto the first street I came to, stomping on the accelerator halfway through the turn to build up speed as quickly as possible.