Trashy (4 page)

Shep

Goddamn, this girl is amazing. Vickie’s honey pot is exactly that. Filled with honey I want to lick all day. Her pink lips are so plump I can’t help but suck them into my mouth, running my tongue around, exploring each inch of her.

I don’t know what the hell Buck is thinking. Well, I do know what he’s thinking. He said as much outside. He’d wanted this sweet, young girl. And she is that: sweet, and so young. Eighteen. I haven’t seen eighteen for over a decade. Had I been this naive? This trusting?

Hell no.

I lost my innocence a long time before that. I’m not talking about virginity, either. I’m talking about that part of your soul you’re born with. The part that makes you optimistic about the world, trusting and joyful. The part that someone, somewhere on your timeline, cuts out of you with a serrated blade.

Vickie almost had hers carved from her tonight by her mother, and we rushed in to save it. Save her. Buck, though… he’ll get tired of her. He always does. Dude goes through chicks like they’re newspapers-- not good after you’ve read’m, if you know what I’m saying.

And me? Why did I save her? Yeah, part of it was my hard on for her young piece of pie. But maybe it was because I hadn’t been able to save-- well, there’s quite a few, including myself. I know what it’s like to have a parent who doesn’t care for you. It stings at first, the small rejections when you’re young. Just a sting here, a cut there. But you hold out and hold on because you came from this person, they helped make you, so surely they don’t mean all the hurt.

Anne, Vickie’s mom, meant the hurt tonight. She meant to hurt her, bad. Seeing it opened a wound in me I’d long since thought healed. I might not know Vickie, but I’ve watched her grow into the woman I’m licking. She works hard. She’s sweet. She’s forgiving. She deserves to feel good, so that’s what I’m gonna do.

My tongue darts into her tight hole. It is
tight
. Virgin. The word held power over me. I’m pretty sure if we’d pushed a little, I’d be able to sink my cock into her untouched hole, taking that cherry. Or Buck would.

Jealousy burns hot in me. Maybe that’s why I stopped us and gave her an out. Because none of this should be happening. She shouldn’t be in our trailer, sucking our cocks. She shouldn’t be with us, period. We’re not nice guys.

At least I have a reason to be an asshole. It comes easy after being treated like a criminal for most of my life. Buck’s kind of my saving grace, you know? The one who helps me remember not to be so damned uptight all the time. You could
almost
say he’s a good guy, but when it comes to women? Well, he thinks with his johnson and doesn’t wait around long enough to see the devastation he leaves.

I ease a finger into her, loving how sensitive she is; her hips rock right on up, urging me on. Vickie’s head is tossing, that pale golden hair spread out on the rug like a halo. Her big titties are in Buck’s fists and he’s sucking on them like they’re giving him milk.

Oh shit, that thought makes me hard again. For just a moment, I allow myself to imagine her barefoot and pregnant with my baby, smiling in the kitchen. Pregnant, with those giant titties made even larger and heavy with milk. Her boobs are so big I bet she could feed the baby and have plenty left over for me to suck.

A second finger joins the first and Vickie’s calling out, “Shep yes! Please, please! I need to come!” Her hips are writhing and bucking and I have to wrap my other arm around them, holding her still.

All thoughts drain with my blood, straight to my cock.

My mouth closes on her perfect little clitty, sucking that bud in. I rake my tongue across it and she explodes. Little Vickie comes all over my face, paying me back, I guess. Good. I fucking love it, licking all her cream and swallowing her honeyed climax down.

Her nipple falls from Buck’s mouth with a plop.

While she recovers, he gets some forks and we finish her birthday cake, right there on the floor of the trailer, like some stupid redneck picnic. I look at our fishing poles hanging on the walls. The gun cabinet in the corner. The camo jackets hanging behind the door.

Okay, so maybe it isn’t too far from the truth.

Her eyes are hooded. They’re brown, chocolate brown. I fucking love how much it contrasts with her long, pale hair. But she’s on her way to lights out, and we haven’t exactly settled on where she’s sleeping.

Buck chimes in. “Let’s shower. You take her and get it started. I’ll find some sheets and blankets for the couch, and we’ll talk about our arrangement more tomorrow. ‘Kay?”

Vickie gives a sleepy nod. While I appreciate his deferring to her right now, I don’t trust it. We both want after that cherry, I’m sure. Is there something up his sleeve?

Gathering Vickie in my arms, I walk her to our small bathroom. It’s tiny in here, and I’m not sure what he meant with “started for us” because I’m barely fitting in here with Vickie.

At least my grandma had a tub put in and the shower head lifted for me before she died. Nobody in the park had ever heard of renovating a trailer before, but she knew when I was fifteen and already hitting six feet that the little shower stall wouldn’t contain me for long.

Now, the ceiling was lifted here and it looks dumb as hell from the outside, but it’s made all the difference inside. The showerhead was above my head, like it should be.

The water is heating up as I take her little nightie off. I want to rip it to shreds because it was bought for a sickening purpose, but Vickie gives it this soft smile, so I fold it and put it on the counter by the sink.

My clothes follow and her eyes drink me in.

Buck and I are simple men. We like big breakfasts, we like hunting and fishing. He likes to work on cars and I work in the local coal mine. We like to work out. Boxing, mostly, but he’s got a bench set up in our third bedroom. It’s the room that used to be my grandma’s. We lift together, spar together, and we’re pretty ripped.

Vickie gasps when she sees my tattoo. I have a lot, covering both arms, but those are just your average don’t-fuck-with-me tats. My tattoo is the one I keep hidden. Just for me. And her now, I guess. “May I touch it?”

“Sure, baby.”

Her fingers are soft as petals caressing the skin that curves around my ribs and back. “Why’d you get it?”

I’ve got two bulls, locked in battle. Their eyes are red, their black flanks straining. Blood’s dripping from each of them. But my artist did a good job of capturing the challenge of them. It’s a competition between two friends. They’re equal. Neither one will win. But they’ll keep butting heads forever, somehow pushing and supporting each other’s weight.

I don’t really need to spell the metaphor out, do I?

“When I turned eighteen, I wanted something to remember my childhood by. That’s it, I guess.”

“Bulls? Did you rodeo?”

This makes me laugh. “Naw. That wasn’t for us. Besides, no rodeos come within fifty miles of here. It’s the story it tells, not a literal memory. Now step inside the shower.” I smack her ass lightly as she hops in.

The water’s hot and Vickie moans. My stomach twists and my cock stays hard. Being around her makes me feel eighteen, too. Like I could fuck all night, get some biscuits in the morning and slam some coffee, then come home and fuck all day, too.

Behind us, the door opens and Buck steps in, already naked. I’ve seen him naked before, but it isn’t something we just do, you know? Two dudes living in such close proximity for so long means we don’t have secrets, not from each other, but we typically don’t go flaunting ourselves, either.

We’ve never shared a shower before. Why the hell would we? His bulk makes it tight in the small stall and I shuffle Vickie between us. I’m not ready to have his balls all on my ass. Just because he smeared some icing on my dick doesn’t mean I’m suddenly open to anything.

Yet--
No. Hell no.
Some things I can’t afford to think. Not with Buck. I need him too much to screw things up.

“Couch is ready for you, Vic,” he murmurs as he begins to shampoo her hair. My eyes follow in blazing envy. I should’ve thought of that. Her back is to him, so I get a clear view of how he’s making her feel. Her eyes squeeze shut while her perfect little mouth falls open.

Not to be outdone, I grab my soap and begin to lather at her neck, quickly moving down to those sexy big titties. Her pink nipples, big as dinner plates, tighten up as I rub them down.

“Ohhh,” she moans, leaning back into Buck. He and I meet gazes and his eyes are easy, questioning. It’s the same look he gave me as he came down her throat. A challenge. He wants to butt heads and see if I’ll pussy out.

This is crazy as hell, but I’m not gonna back down for anyone. My hands slip lower, soaping her waist. Buck opens his hand and I give him the soap.

“Turn around, baby, and let Shep rinse that hair out.”

She does, never even opening her eyes. There’s trust flowing like a river between us, around us. Drowning us in something we’ve never felt individually. We’re a unit. A family.

It scares the hell out of me.

I move so the water can hit the suds in her hair. Working my fingers in those golden locks, I help rinse all the shampoo out, finger combing from root to tip. Wet, her hair hits her bottom and my hands begin to explore those luscious lobes.

Vickie gasps and falls back on me. I catch her in time, her skin slick and hot against mine. She awkwardly hoists a leg up and Buck has it and I realize his fingers are buried in her snatch.

I can’t help myself. Anchoring her to my chest with one arm, I grab a handful of titty and squeeze until she cries out. My other hand reaches under her ass and finds her pussy. My fingers hit Buck’s, but he just keeps pumping into her.

It’s fucking wetter than a Louisiana summer night between her legs, and despite her pussy being virgin, I’m able to slip a finger in, too.

“Oh God, yes!”

“Yes, what?” Buck growls. He meets my rhythm and we’re stroking her in tandem. I’m kneading the hell out of her tit, plucking and tweaking her nipple.

“Keep touching me like that,” she mewls, “Please!”

“Come all over our hands, baby girl. Get us nice and juicy with that pussy.” The way he says it, it’s an order. She obeys, her tight channel clamping on our fingers as she cries out in the small bathroom.

This is us. Crowded in a shower. Skin on skin on skin, the steam in our lungs and eyes and a cord of attraction and lust cinching tight around us.

The moment is so strange we don’t talk about it. But I see the pink, dewy glow on her cheeks and Buck’s loving caress to her bottom. His hand brushes mine and it’s probably an accident, but I don’t jerk mine away.

# # #

The door hinge whines and I hear barefeet pad through the dark. The springs of the mattress groan.

“Shep?”

“You should be sleeping, Vickie.”

Her hand brushes my chest and I shiver a little. It’s so small. Everything about her is small and round and soft. “I know. But don’t you want me in here?”

I roll to my side, making room for her on my full sized mattress. Never before have I regretted bachelor living as much as this moment. She deserves a king-sized bed, and sheets made of silk, and whatever else those rich assholes have to pamper themselves, even in sleep.

“Is this okay?” She whispers, but Vickie is already curling up beside me, her head tucked into the nook of my shoulder and chest.

My grunt is non-committal, but I’m elated. Hell yes, this is okay. My heart is torn, though, unexpectedly. What would Buck think? Would he be mad? We’ve never fought about a woman before. Hell, I don’t think we’ve fought since my grandma died.

He started this. He’s the one who got her on her knees first. He won’t take care of her like you will, so shut up and let her choose you.

Is there a choice? I wasn’t about to talk about it to anyone, or hell, even think about it, but when we’d been all over Vickie earlier, it hadn’t bothered me that Buck was there. It should have. I should have walked away and let him have her. I had every chance. Instead, I fell right into it, into him and his weird perverted shit.

And it felt natural. Normal.

Somehow that feels more dangerous than a fight for her. But if it’s natural, then there ain’t no choice. It’s just the way shit’s gonna be, and fuck, my head hurts.

Her fingers stroke my beard, seeking comfort rather than trying to give it. I feel better nonetheless. “I don’t have conditioner, or a toothbrush.” The paper-thin quality of her voice breaks me inside. “Just the clothes you took for me, and a little money.”

“We can get you what you need--”

“I know. I know you’ll take care of me. It’s just last night I had those things, a toothbrush and conditioner and a bed that was mine. Tonight I don’t have them, and I’m happier than ever. How does that even make sense?”

My fingers drag up and down her arm. “Are you sure you’re happy with this? I don’t know what Buck said--”

“He said I’d clean and cook for y’all while I get my feet on the ground, and then, well, I don’t know.” The tremor in her voice is killing me.