Dirty Little Freaks (11 page)

“Your family is loaded?” I ask. What is it with me meeting these rich kids, are they all into slumming or something?

He starts to drive and it seems like he’s going to evade the question. We turn out onto the street and immediately get stuck behind a bus. I look at him and will him to answer, he blinks a couple of times and looks back at me. “What?” he laughs. “I feel like you’re using some kind of mind power. Ok, I admit it, my family has money. I don’t have anything to do with them though, so I don’t think of it as my money.”

“Why don’t you have anything to do with them?” I ask, surprised that we have this in common.

“We don’t see eye to eye I guess, my father is not happy with things like tattoos and me being a musician,” he says and reaches over to rub his hand up my thigh, “or casual sex.”

“Oh I hate him then,” I reply. “I get it though, I haven’t talked to my mom in almost a year, but she’s insane, so that’s why.”

“Like certifiably insane, or just crazy bitch?” he asks.

“More like crazy bitch, but if I had the power, I’d certify her,” I reply. “She lives in Surrey, I think. The only time I hear from her is when she needs money.”

“Kinda the opposite of my father,” he says with a smirk. “Only he comes around when he tries to shove money in my face and order me around.”

“So we have that in common,” I smile and put my hand on his, still on my upper thigh. “How romantic.”

“You know it, babe,” he smiles at me and I lean over to turn up the music. The Ramones, he’s worming his way straight to my heart as we sing “Beat on the Brat” at the top of our lungs over the Cambie Bridge.

“Have you ever had your ass fucked, babe?” Hush whispers in my ear as he’s stroking my arm. I’m curled up against him, entwined in his limbs like we’re on the cover of a porno version of a Nicolas Sparks novel. So dirty, so fucking romantic, and oh my God I can’t keep myself in line around him.

Pathetic, I think for the millionth time, but the horny/happy/giddy part of me kicks my cynical self in the balls (yeah, I’ve got balls in my imagination, I’m sure therapists would have a field day with that).

“Uh, maybe?” I tilt my head up to gauge his response. He’s smiling at me with a wicked glint in his eye.

“You are such a butt slut, I can see it in your eyes,” he tells me and squeezes my ass. “So, next question, have you ever had a threesome?”

“Um, maybe?” I say again and sense where this is going. We’ve been hooking up every chance we can get for the past two weeks. He knows I’m dirty, so he probably knows how I’m going to answer these questions.

“I thought so, you really are my nasty little whore, aren’t you?” he says, his voice full of pride. I wiggle myself against him, trying to wrap myself further up in his body so nobody will ever tear us apart. I brace myself for what I know is coming next. “I’ve got this buddy, he’s in another band, and he’s been bugging me about hooking up with you. You met him at a show, remember Rev?”

I did remember Rev, he is tall and lanky with a muscular body, dark eyes and a jet black faux hawk. He kinda screams poser to me and I wasn’t that impressed. Then again, he isn’t ugly, and he looks like the kind of guy who would be packing a fat cock, so maybe. I hesitate though, not sure if I like this, the fact that Hush is totally down with sharing me. A couple of months ago, I would have fucked them both with no hesitation, I’m not sure why this gets under my skin.

He’s staring at me though, waiting for my answer. “Fuck, sure,” I say, not willing to lay my cards on the table just yet. What am I supposed to say? Beg him to take me away on his white horse?

“Cool, babe, he’s the one who wants to join in, is that ok with you?” he asks, a horny twinkle in his eye.

“Oh fuck yeah, I love being double teamed,” I say a little too chirpy for it to be true, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy picturing his buddy fucking me while I suck his cock or something.

“I knew you’d be down with it, I love that about you,” he says and pulls my face to rest on his chest. I lay there listening to his heartbeat, ignoring how hot and sweaty my head is getting, wild horses couldn’t drag me away from him right now. Miss fucking romance is what I’ve become. I mentally shake my head, to squash the cynic again long enough to close my eyes and follow the rhythm of the heart I wish I could claim.

After a moment or two I notice a tattoo in the inside of his upper arm. I hadn’t paid attention to it before, but now it catches my eye. It’s a beautiful swirling script and reads,
dum spiro spero.
I sit up and look at him, he jerks his eyes open and says “What?”

“Oh. My. God. You have a Cicero quote on your arm. You are such a geek!” I laugh and point at the tattoo.

He looks at it, flexes his bicep and says, “Oh that old thing? I’ve had it for a while, it’s one of my favourite quotes,” he grabs me and pulls me to him for a kiss. After we’re done crashing our lips together, sighing and breathing each other in…you know, all that romance novel shit, he pulls back and stares at me. His eyes narrow, a smile spreads slowly over his lips and he says, “Wait a minute, who’s the geek? How did you know it was Cicero?”

He’s got me; he might discover my secret intelligence after all. Shit. I giggle and shake my head, “I don’t know, I think they had it on an episode of
America’s Next Top Model
or something.”

He laughs and says, “Yeah, right,” and keeps looking at me in amazement, as if I’m a dog who just asked for the time.

I decide a distraction is in order, so I slide my hand down his rock hard abs, feeling the bumps and grooves of his delicious six-pack, and land on his cock. He grows hard immediately as I grasp his thick shaft. I love how responsive he is to me; it makes me feel powerful and sexy. “I can feel your pulse,” I laugh, letting the throbbing blood in his veiny cock keep time with my own beating heart. Pathetic, our hearts really are beating together. He runs his fingers along my shoulder blade as I shift to move towards his dick. I want to suck him, lick him and fondle his balls, squeeze them until I feel them tighten as he shoots his load down my throat. I’m a girl with a mission.

He thrusts towards my mouth; the head of his cock pushes past my lips and hits the back of my throat. I gag once then loosen up and let him face fuck me. I'm on my hands and knees, but drop to my elbows as he pumps upwards. He grabs a handful of my hair and locks me into place. I whimper and moan, signaling my own horny response at being used like cheap pocket pussy. A few quick strokes is all it takes, he throws his head back and moans, "Fuck, Jade, I love your mouth," and fills my throat with hot, bitter cum. He smokes too much weed. I can taste it in his spunk. I need to get him to eat more pineapple to sweeten his seed. I’m like the Iron Chef of ball batter. This is the fifth time I’ve drained him in less than twenty-four hours and he still produces a crazy amount of jizz. The stupid shit that impresses me, I really am a freak.

I look up at him, his face is the picture of satisfaction, but my body is on fire. The heat he stirs in me rises, I want him to finger my pussy, so I move my hips towards him. He gets the hint and plunges three fingers into my hole, no questions asked. My God I love this man, he really gets me.

I buck and twist at the end of his arm, he says, “Fuck yeah, you are such a little whore for me, aren’t you, babe?” I cry out in response, he slaps my ass hard, and surprisingly I like it. I wiggle a little to get him to do it again, and he does. I squeal at the pain, the shock, and the fingers dragging along my G spot. Any other man I’ve been with would have been pulling back a bloody stump if they hit me, but not Hush...not him. Instead I push myself against his hand and tilt my pelvis so his thumb grazes my slit as I pound myself against him. My pussy clenches and quivers with my orgasm, I shake my head and lose all sense of self for a brief moment. He holds his fingers perfectly still inside of me, relishing the force of my cunt around his hand, then slides them out slowly as I sink down onto the bed. I roll over right into his arms, blow a stray lock of hair off my forehead and smile.

“So where were we?” I ask, and flutter my eyelashes at him. He slides his soaking wet fingers along my lips and I open my mouth to suck them. I tongue them and taste myself mixed with him, nothing better, nothing hotter, and I could fuck him again in a heartbeat. Instead I let him take his hand back and lay my head on his chest.

“I believe we were discussing the possibility of a threesome,” he says and rubs my back. “You, me, my friend Rev?”

“Ah yes, the elusive threesome, the dream of every young, hot blooded male, right?” I say, laughing to mask the weird feeling I have again, that he’s ok with sharing me. I want him to claim me as his own, to club me over the head and drag me off to his cave or some Neandertal shit. I want him to tie me up and fuck me raw and beat the shit out of anyone sniffing around my dripping cunt. I want something, I’m not sure what, but I don’t want him to dismiss me. I can’t let him know though; it’s just not in my nature.

“Yeah, if you’re up for it. No pressure or anything, but think of how hot it would be, me fucking you from behind while you suck his cock. We could use you like a nasty little slut, it could be amazing.”

“Totally...for sure, amazing,” I reply and close my eyes. I hope he’ll sense the reluctance behind my agreement, but he doesn’t. He just keeps talking about the many things the two of them could do to me, so I resign myself to the fact that this is how he sees me. I need to be ok with that if I want to keep him in my life.

Hush snores. It’s horrible and it’s the one thing I fucking hate about him. I get out of bed, unable to sleep. I should get my head on straight anyhow, it’s going to be a perv fest at the store tonight. Fridays are always like this; they spend the entire week with their suits and office jobs, wives and kids. By the time Friday rolls around, they need to blow off some steam. And of course by steam, I mean spunk, if you get my drift.

I pad to the kitchen and interrupt Eva and Diesel, I don’t call him Gage even though he’s in his shabby boxers in my apartment, far from the stage. They pull apart and I’m relieved to see they were only kissing. I still don’t like the fact that Eva is perched on the counter. Her ass is firmly pressed against the spot I make my toast.

“Uh, dude, mind moving your ass so I can get some brekkie?” I asked her, giving her the hairy eyeball, “And yeah, fucking gross.”

She hops down and rolls her eyes at me, “Whatever Jade, like you haven’t been railed in here a time or two. Remember that guy you fucked a couple times who turned out to be homeless? I saw you guys...so yeah, you fucked a homeless dude in our kitchen, don’t talk to me about gross.”

Gage laughs and I play punch Eva’s arm. “Dude, you swore you’d never tell anyone,” I turn to Gage and add, “I thought he was with Cirque du Soleil, ok? He never said he wasn’t, and I guess I just assumed. He was freakishly flexible though.”

Gage snorts and asks, “How did you find out he was homeless?”

“I figured it out the second time he was here,” Eva says, “it was kind of obvious. I mean dude had duct tape on his shoes and carried a filthy backpack with all his worldly possessions. And he looked like Jesus, it was creepy, to see your friend sucking lookalike Jesus’ cock in your kitchen first thing in the morning.” She laughs and shudders dramatically. It wasn’t my finest moment, I’m glad I can joke about it now. I’ve fucked weirder guys, but there’s something unsettling about picking up a random stranger who turns out to be a squeegee kid.

I shrug and say, “Well, he might have looked like Jesus, but he fucked like a demon...after he washed up of course. Now can I get some fucking coffee?”

The two of them are still giggling as I wipe the countertop down with an antibacterial cloth, fill the coffee maker with water and turn it on. Eva is sitting on Diesel’s lap at the kitchen table, he’s got his arms wrapped around her, his head resting on her back. I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little disturbing to see her like this with a guy. She’s the hump and dump queen, I’ve never had to deal with her and a...boyfriend…before. I miss my talks with Eva, but that’s my fault too. I’ve been spending way too much time with Hush. It’s ridiculous how much time a guy will eat up, so I shouldn’t be so hard on her. Still, they seem a little too comfortable a little too fast. I hope I’m not losing her.