Sommer Marsden's Blog, page 113

Cheater Pants Revisited: Wanderlust part 38 "the weirdest man ever" & Wanderlust part 39 "bondage psychotherapy"

Yeah, yeah, I'm cheating. So sue me...Morning, all

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 39
by Sommer Marsden

"How long do you think it will take us to get there?"

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving."

"Is that the world according to Johnny Turner Rose?"

"Please," he said and waved a hand at me, "no middle names."

I laughed. "Sorry."

"And it was Lao Tzu who said that."

"You are the weirdest man ever."

"Thank you."

I was starving and he had headed toward the restaurants and motels the roadside signs had promised. The silk tie was still draped over his thigh and it made me wet every time I glanced at it. By the time we were alone, I'd be so slippery he'd damn near fall into me.

The Chevy barreled down a black top road with freshly painted yellow slashes in the center. On either side, open fields and on the right our headlights threw a dilapidated barn into the spotlight. It seemed to seemed to belong to no one at all. I couldn't see a farmhouse no matter how hard I looked. The stark lonely blankness of the whole tableau felt almost welcoming. Peaceful.

We ate at a place called Jolene's. Not really a diner, more of a hole in the wall bar that happened to serve food. What I would call a honky tonk. Country music played on the juke box and our waitress wore a shirt so tight I could see the indentation of her navel.

I ate ribs and corn and cole slaw, Johnny got a steak. I was starving but didn't eat. Ravenous but the food did nothing for me. I drank a Pabst Blue Ribbon (on tap, no less) and picked at my ribs.

"I thought you were hungry." He popped his last fry in his mouth and studied me. I felt naked under that gaze of his.

"I am."

"You're not eating."

I shrugged.

"You tired?" He finished off his beer and waved a finger at our server.

She came right to him, like a well trained puppy. He seemed to have that effect on folks. Women, especially.

"Yes and no. I feel wired. Like in college when we'd do uppers and then drink. That buzzed, twitchy kind of thing."

"Oh, a dark and illegal past."

"Yeah, I'm a rebel."

He put money down and caught me staring.

"What?" His big hand plucked mine from the table and he squeezed my fingers. "You surprised I have money?"

I smiled and said, "Yes and no?"

"There must be an echo in here."

"I just…you were a waiter. A roofer. A candlestick maker?"

"I do odd jobs. I have low overhead." His face went serious, almost cruel. "No family to take care of. It's easy to sock some of it away."

"Fair enough."

"You ready to go?"

I nodded again. I could feel the watch in my pocket, the round outline pressing against my skin through my jeans. "Yep."

"Melancholy?" he asked.

It startled me. I don't know why. It was the exact emotion I was feeling and hadn't been able to pin point. "Yeah. Creepy much?"

He grinned at me. "It's a gift. Plus, I recognize it. We're old friends, melancholy and myself."

I followed him out, feeling our waitresses eyes on him and her disappointment o see him go. I also felt a stab of jealousy at her attentions.

Our motel tonight was a one level, ugly rose-colored stucco building with a neon sign out front that said VACA--Y.

"You ready for vacay?" he asked, putting the car in park.

He grabbed our bags and I followed him up to the door. His boots crunching over the gravel that lined the walkway.

"Sure thing." Ready to get naked. Ready to get fucked. Ready to sleep under the watchful eye of Johnny. We pushed into the dimly lit lobby.

Fallon. That was her name according to the gold tag she wore. And she stared me down from behind her too-black bangs. Her gaze on Johnny was much more welcoming. Flirtatious. Slutty.

"Just one?" she asked.

Even though the bitch could see me.

He suppressed a grin and somehow that annoyed me more than her dumb ass question. "Two," he said.

"Fill this out," she said, pushing a paper toward him. "Mr. and Mrs…?"

"We're not married," I snapped. I did my best not to feel any anger or jealousy. A woman like this—a girl, really—could smell it a mile away. And they liked it.

"Oh," she said, her voice going up at the end of the word.

Johnny pushed the paper back, dropped some bills on the counter. "Is that enough or a night?"

"You're due some change," she said and turned to get it, putting way more sway in her step than she needed to. Displaying a small ass in tight skinny jeans—jet black of course.

I gritted my teeth and tried not to blush, but I felt the heat rising to my cheeks anyway.

Johnny saw me and his arm snaked around my neck as he pulled me to him. Pressing his lips to my ear, he said, "I'm going to fuck you until you weep when I get you in that room."

And then I was blushing for an entirely different reason. And I couldn't help but give her an eat-shit-and-die glance when we left. If only I had know.

*****

There was no headboard. Odd, but true. He tugged me to the open closet.

"Put your arms up, sweetheart," he whispered in my ear and I did. He'd stripped me bare and I stood there in nothing but my earrings. Johnny tied my arms to the metal rod in the barren space. He leaned and kissed me almost chastely. Then he said, "Be right back. I'm going to take a shower."

"I…what?" I blinked at him, feeling slow and stupid. Was he fucking serious?

"I'm going to take a shower. And then I'll be back." He said. He wasn't smiling, but fuck me hard, his eyes were.

"You're going to leave me here?"

"Think of it as meditation."

"Are you insane?"

He shrugged, his big shoulders moving casually. "Maybe."

"Don't' leave me here," I said. I was going to cry. Which was completely fucking asinine. He wasn't leaving the state, just the room, but still…Invisible cracks of black fear and red anger opened all over me. My skin stung with the force of my emotion.

"I'll be back."

"Johnny—"

"Aurelia," he said sternly and leveled a finger at me.

I shut up. Will wonders never cease. I shut up, but my vision had already doubled and then trebled with tears by the time he was out of my line of sight.

I waited until the water cut on to let the sob rip loose of me. It came barreling from me like some invisible creature. I shivered, hanging there, crying, my hair in my face, feeling like a fool. A wet-between-the-legs for him idiot. One who would be waiting right here for him when he came back.




Wanderlust
part 39
by Sommer Marsden

And come back he did. Naked, rubbing his head stubble with yet another cheap white towel. His cock was hard, jutting out from a thatch of dark pubic hair. Small beads of water remained on his skin and I envied them. I wanted to lick them off of him or feel them destroyed between us when he pressed his body to mine.

"See what it did to me knowing you were hanging out here waiting for me." He moved in close, his erection pressing to my hip as he traced the silk tie that bound me to the metal bar. "How do you feel?"

"Scared."

"Why?"

"Because you left me out here."

"But I was right there."

"I know."

"Why were you scared?"

Now I felt angry. What the fuck was this. Bondage psychotherapy?

I shook my head, felt my lips press together and my eyes narrow. I had not been in a good mood since Fallon and now I was pissed.

"Why, Really?" He prodded.

"I don't know."

He turned me. I didn't have much choice but to go, tied up to that eye-level clothing rod. I turned and he delivered one hard smack to my ass. The sound was deafening in the silent room. We hadn't even flipped the TV on.

I was determined not to make a sound.

"Why?"

"I don't know," I lied.

Smack, smack, smack. Heat bloomed in my skin and in my pussy. My body revved up and readied itself for him, recalling the car. The punishment he'd delivered. And the pleasure.

"I think you do." He pressed his mouth to my ear, his stubble biting the back of my neck. His arm snaked around my waist as he pulled me back to him. My back pressed to his chest, his belly, his hard cock. My eyes slammed shut, my mouth went dry.

God, I wanted him.

"I don't know," I sighed. It was nothing more than a puff of air. Barely a sound.

Four more smacks and I could feel the redness, feel my pulse beating in my skin.

"All you have to do is tell me."

My cunt grew tight, urging me to tell the truth. I bit my tongue, remembered the greedy look of the girl in the lobby. She wanted him. Wanted what I felt should be mine, even though the object of my coveting had made it clear he was a free agent. Didn't do monogamy well, he'd said.

That's what made it so hard to admit to him.

"Tell me."

"You make me feel—" I bit my tongue. Shook my he had. My hair hung in my face and I hid behind it willingly.

"Come on, Really, talk to daddy."

An ugly laugh burst out of me. "Daddy is the last name you want to invoke," I growled.

"Tell daddy what's the matter."

He was baiting me.

"Fuck off."

I got five for that one. And they were hard. Strung together like surges of heat lightning during a late summer storm. My body thrummed, my eyes prickled with tears.

"Why did you get upset?"

"Because you make me feel safe, you ass!" I roared.

And he laughed. There was that laugh again.

But his thick finger delved into my pussy from behind. I was so hot and tight and swollen that one measly finger caused me to moan. Caused my body to clutch up around him.

"Was that so hard?"

"Yes," I said and that was the truth.

"How do you feel?"

"Pissed."

He added a second finger.

"How would you feel if your father was looking for you?"

"Pissed," I breathed. Another finger joined the fray and he was thrusting, curling, pounding into me with those fingers. Invading my body with his hand and my soul with his questions.

"How do you feel that he's not looking for you?"

"Pissed," I sobbed.

"Do you detect a theme, Really?"

I nodded. Exhausted by this stupid exercise in Aurelia Blake.

Johnny held my hips and tilted them toward him. He stepped right up behind me, kicking my ankles apart a bit. I tilted my ass up for him. I hung there limply, letting the weight of my body hurt my shoulder sockets and not caring.

He slid into me with a groan. A man sinking into a hot bath, a comfortable chair…a willing woman. He started to move, both thrusting to me and pulling me to him. He filled me utterly, his lips pressed to the back of my neck as he fucked me.

I made nonsense sounds. I shook my head and tried to hold on but he read me well and reached around me, stroking my clit. I gave up my orgasm easily. It slipped out of me as fluidly as my breath.

It didn't take much longer for him. Johnny came with a single grunt and a single word. "Really."


STAY TUNED...

*click the brooch to purchase...

Buckle Down...

I'm a free read at The Erotic Woman this week. Brand new story, Buckle Down, for your reading pleasure.

I really loved this story. So glad to see it live :)

XOXO
Sommer
p.s. speaking of buckles...how bad do I want that buckle? Super bad, that's how!!

One of the nicest reviews I've ever received...

And I get to be a Recommended Read :)



A five star review and RR read status from Lea at Blackraven Reviews. But beyond all that niceness, it's the review itself I found touching. It's rare to really feel like a reviewer completely "got" your book. Humans, by nature, process things differently. So when I feel a reader/reviewer really, really got where I was going with a book...it always makes me grateful :)

To read the review go here.

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust part 37 "Ego Check"

I slept in! Shh. Don't tell the man. Okay, so he knows. He knows all. He's the god of my little world. But a benevolent one. He'd say, "you should have slept longer" but I felt guilty. So here I sit, coffee in hand, kidlets still out in dreamland, posting about Johnny Rose and ego checks. Check, check, testing one, two, three...



Wanderlust
part 37
by Sommer Marsden

It was past five and we'd been on the road for going on seven hours. The bright lights of the tool booth made me squint and I continued to worry the watch in my fingers like worry beads. I was still dealing with the huge ego check of being dismissed so easily from my father's life. On the radio Michael Hutchence sang in his honeyed tones, making me feel like a teenager again—and just as fucking confused. I had already been wondering what it would feel like to open the Chevy's door and just fall free to the blacktop that rushed by us when he'd started crooning to me from the speakers:

Suicide blonde is the color of her hair…

The irony of him singing to me about such things was not lost on yours truly.

We crossed over into Indiana and finally, Johnny leveled those otherworldly blue eyes at me. "You never gonna speak to me again, Snowflake?"

"I'm speaking to you," I said, stupidly. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice that I wasn't. It didn't feel good to do the silent treatment when you knew how childish it was. It also didn't feel good to be called out for pouting.

But I couldn't seem to help myself. I didn't want to talk to him. I knew he didn't get it, but I fucking could not swallow down the bitter taste of his laughter and amusement.

"Yeah, you've been a fucking chatterbox for the last three hundred miles. Oh, stop! Stop talking already," he said in mock distress. "You'll talk my ear off with your…word."

I smiled. Fuck him. I did. What was it about this big scarred up odd-job boy that made all of my defenses fall away like water-soaked spun sugar dissolving in the rain. I shook my head and looked away.

Johnny piloted the car into the rest stop that almost always followed a toll booth. "I have to hit the head. And you might want to powder my nose."

"Have you seen me put any makeup at all on?" I countered.

"Figure of speech, sweetheart. Would you prefer I say go pee? Or take a pi—"

"Okay, okay!" I said, throwing my hands up. I popped my door and he laughed.

"Cock and pussy and fuck don't bother you, but piss does?" He grinned.

I stuck my tongue out. Might as well go all the way with the childish behavior.

"It's just crude."

I passed by him and he caught me. Pinned me to the pitted ugly paintwork on his Chevy and kissed me. "Sometimes crude can be good. Remember that."

I kissed him back. I would forsake my feelings for a kiss, I found out. I kissed him almost angrily and when he let me go, I swallowed hard and said, "I'll try and remember that."

"You do that. Now go and make use of the facilities. We need to find a room and food and then I plan to get you naked."

"What if I'm still mad?"

"So? What if you are?" he asked, his face dead serious. And then he sauntered off to the left of the concrete block building. The façade of it squat and ugly and white as a ghost in the failing fall light.

*****

There was a moon coming on. A harvest moon. No snow, no rain, the wind had a bite and when Johnny threw the headlights on the building in front of us lit up like the sun. The air was bluish purple and I shivered, loving the chill.

"Let me tell you a story, Snowflake," he said, merging back onto the highway.

"Ooh, story time," I said. There was still a bit of bitchy-bite in my voice. I rubbed the watch and tapped my foot and wished I didn't sound so petty.

"Yep."

I waited. Said nothing.

He sighed and I had a split second to think that maybe—just maybe—what he was about to reveal to me was difficult for him. Then he started talking, his voice a freight train rumble over the radio he'd turned down to nothing but a melodic murmur.

"I don't' normally tell anyone this. Fuck, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I can tell that me laughing at your…upset…pissed you off."

I still said nothing, but suddenly I felt two feet tall.

"And for whatever crazy reason, I don't like it when you're pissed off. Or sad. Or angry. Or any of that greeting card bullshit."

I tried not to smile.

"Don't get cocky," he warned.

I wrestled my facial expression back into submission, presenting him with nothing but an expectant façade.

"When I was a kid there was a broken arm. Just like in your past."

My face went hot. I felt anxiety crawl under my skin. I already didn't like what was coming and I didn't know what it was. But I did. Some part of me did and my chest ached.

"But the arm belonged to me and the breaker was my mamma. There were also several broken fingers and once, a broken collar bone."

I blew out a sigh and said "Jesus"

"Yeah, he did nothing to help me," Johnny said, and cracked a smile. "Seems that I was—to my mother—the full reason my father left her. Didn't matter that she was a drunk. Or that more than once he caught her hooking to get money for her booze and her card games at the bar."

How mangled was this man inside? I felt damn near pristine to hear him talk. And yet, he dealt with all the bullshit of life way better than me. Maybe it was practice…

"Part of me thinks maybe the old man didn't think I was his." He snorted, reached past me and popped the glove box. He withdrew a cigarette and lit it. He dropped the pack in my lap as in invitation to join him. I ran my fingers over the cellophane and heard it complain, but I didn't light up.

"You know, he might have been right. Who knows who I belonged to. But none of that matters, because to my mother, in here—" he tapped his temple with a big finger and squinted against the smoke. "To her, where it mattered, he was the love of her fucked up life and I had driven him away. So I had to pay."

I shook my head, considered the cigarettes but put them back in the glove box and waited for him to go on.

We passed a stretch of jersey walls and abandoned construction and I heard the sing of air and black top under and around the Chevy's wheels. The streetlights were like miniature moons overhead and in front of us traffic zipped and wiggled because we had officially passed rush hour it seemed.

"So I paid for him leaving her. I paid and I paid and I paid. And when I turned fourteen, I figured I'd paid enough."

"I bet." It was whisper coming out of me like a breath.

"And I left. I packed a bag. I stole her money, I took some food, a few things I could sell and I fucking left."

I found myself nodding. Christ, of course he had. Of course he'd left. Of course!

"And she didn't look for me," he said.

I took a breath. And there it was. The reason. The root. The laughter.

"And it was the sweetest fucking feeling in the world. Being out there, no one looking. Just out there and away and not paying for someone else's sins for the first time in a long time."

I put my face to the cool glass because I felt suddenly warm and ashamed. I hadn't know, but still—

"And that is why I laughed. But I think we're opposite, you and I. To me, the dismissal was the greatest gift. And all you want is for someone to seek you out."

I nodded, my face brushing the window. I couldn't talk.

"Well, I'm looking for you. I think there's more to you, so I'm not hunting you down, but I am with you. And I'm still looking. Still searching for the real Aurelia. Someone is seeking you out, Really."

I swallowed convulsively even though I could already feel how wet my face was. I reached into my purse at my feet and handed him the tie. "Here," I said.

"What's this?"

"I bought it for you," I said. Softly.

"Wow. Why?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to."

"But you were pissed at me."

I shrugged again. Hell, I couldn't explain it if that's what he wanted.

"Thanks, kid." He leaned across fast and kissed me. The Chevy swerved a little and I yelped. "Don't worry. It's fine."

It's fine. It's okay. It will be alright…Stupid but his promises of rightness always worked with me.

I smiled. It felt odd on my face at that moment, but good, too.

"A real gentlemanly thing, this is," he said, draping it across his thigh and studying the signs for lodging along the side of the road. "You know what this means?"

"What?"

"I have to do something decidedly ungentlemanly with it."

I found myself swallowing hard again. It was becoming a habit.

STAY TUNED...

my Coming's been Kindled...

Coming Together: With Sommer has been Kindled. What a great way to support LLS. Smutty paranorml sexy-sex in your hot little hand. Here's a snippet:

"Right there," I squealed. Trip nudged my clit with his tongue a little harder. I panted and squirmed. I couldn't seem to decide if I should
crush myself against his face or wiggle away from his taunting
tongue. What he was doing with that mouth of his bordered on tickling. It was torturous but pleasurable at the same time."Stop squirming."

Trip covered my clit with his whole mouth. I froze. His mouth was so hot my body bucked a little.

"I'm sorry. That was... " Then I lost my words because he was licking me in earnest. My cunt flicked impatiently around nothing. I wanted him in me. I wanted him to fuck me. But I wasn't sure I wanted this to end either.

"Martee, stay still" he said, shoving two fingers deep inside of me and pressing my G-spot as if it would pin me in place. It didn't. I wiggled more and sighed. I seemed to be overly sensitive for some reason.

"Sorry!"

He stroked me in exactly the right way and my body clutched around his probing fingers.

"That's better,"

I could tell by his voice he was smiling. He must have been feeling my body gripping him tightly.

"Behave."

"Okay." I agreed just to shut him up. I had no idea why I was all over the place like this. It felt almost too good, the things he was doing. And we did these things a lot -as much as humanly possible.

His cell phone rang its annoying tune and we both stopped for a second. I was so wet and so ready for him, there was no way in hell I was answering it. And there was certainly no way I was letting him answer it. Our eyes met and I shook my head vigorously.

"No way, Ericson," I said in a menacing voice.

Trip grinned and his bright blue eyes took me in, then he flexed those big fingers and forced them deeper into my pussy, and I closed my eyes. His tongue took up its former flitting attack, and I was once again jumping like a drunken marionette.

"That's it. Flip over, Babe," he said. He didn't wait for me to comply or complain, he flipped me, shoved a pillow under my belly and yanked my thighs apart.

The force and urgency did strange things to me. I went from very wet to drenched, the exposure feeding my desire. I pushed my ass back to meet him, and he shoved into me with a grunt.

"I don't feel like chasing you anymore."

"Sorry!" I said again as he plunged as far into me as possible. His hand found my clit and worked firm, demanding circles over the swollen flesh. Now that I could handle.

"It's okay. I was gonna have my way with you either way. Guess it has to be caveman instead of wooing." My cunt tightened with each thrust and each sweet circling of his finger. I rested my head on the bed and pushed back harder.

"I love cave men."

Trip circled my waist with his free arm and gripped me tightly. He pulled me harder against him even as he fucked me. His breathing more ragged, his movements more frantic. "Baby," he hissed in my ear, his slick finger on my clit moving in more desperate spirals.

"Right there," I sighed as he emptied into me with a gruff cry. My own orgasm swirled through my belly, my pussy, my chest. My face was hot and my heart beat erratic. I never got tired of being with Trip.

He kissed the back of my neck, his cock still in me, and then laughed.

"What?"

He rolled away, flopping onto his back and grinned up at me. Then he beat his
smooth, muscular chest and grunted, "Trip like. Trip love Martee. Trip like when Martee makes that noise."

"What noise?" I asked. I blew my short blonde hair out of my eyes and flicked him on the ribcage with one finger. He was sweaty. I like him sweaty.

"That noise you make when you come. Hard." He smacked my ass lightly.

"I don't make any noise."

"Oh yes you do. You sound like some exotic bird."

"I do not!"

"Ah... Ah... Ah... Aha!" he mimicked.

I hit him in the face with my pillow and heard a muffled "Oof!" just as the cell phone rang again. From under the pillow, Trip said, "Maybe I should answer it?"

Wanderlust part 36 "beautiful broken things"

Morning, all. Got nothing to say. Not enough coffee yet~ LOL (O_O) I think there's a trip to the craft store in my future today. Once I finish one quilt, I need to start another. Even if it takes me a billion years.

Away we go...

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 36
by Sommer Marsden

"Dear sweet baby Jesus, why did you let me order pancakes?" I groaned.

Johnny shrugged. "You ordered pancakes because you wanted them. What's the problem?" Said the man who was currently polishing off his own full stack of pancakes, two over easy eggs, hash browns, bacon and sausage and some fruit.

Dear god. He was a one man lumberjack team. Or at least he ate like one.

"They're heavy."

"True." He handed me orange juice. "Enzymes," he said waggling his eyebrows comically.

I couldn't help but laugh. For such a scary sternish guy, he could be really funny. "What about them?"

"They'll help you digest your food."

I pulled out my wallet and put a twenty down on top of the tab the waitress had left. The counter girl had been eyeing Johnny up the way I had started to notice the more submissive girls did. A girl at the bar, one at the super store, one who practically drooled over him at our last diner pit-stop. He gave off the big, booming vibe of a man in charge. There was nothing us stressed out, knotted up, busted women liked more than a take charge guy. He'd created quite a stir in Allen's Diner.

Jesus. When this was done I needed to hire someone to dissect me so I could stop dissecting myself. It was emotionally exhausting to discover just how twisted you were. Or it was for me, at least.

I drank the OJ down and waved to the waitress. She looked suspiciously like our last waitress in the last diner. Were they all related, I wondered wildly. Some secret cult of greasy spoon servers who had a network across country, tracking and reporting on weary travelers? The conspiracy theory of diner waitresses made me smile.

"Everything good, hon?"

"Very good, thank you. Keep that change." Where else could you get ridiculously big breakfast for nothing at all and still leave a decent tip?

"Thank you muchly," she said.

I made a noise, patted my stomach. "If only I hadn't eaten it all. I could walk for miles."

She nodded her head, looking at me over the top of her glasses. "There's some shops a ways up. You could walk off your breakfast and have a look. They have one that me and mine would call a second hand store, but they call it antiques." She rolled her eyes. "Because they're special that way."

Johnny nodded. "We can head up there. Stretch our legs before we go."

"Where you headed?" she asked. She didn't wear a name tag but I imagined her to be a Doris or a Mabel. Maybe a Gladys. Something old fashioned.

"Wherever we end up," Johnny said.

She tossed one of her school girl looks at him. One that had probably been a hit twenty years before. She had the look of a woman who had once been a beauty. The ghost of allure past. I stood and grabbed my purse.

"Thanks for the info. And the food."

"My pleasure, doll," she said and was gone on the almost silent whisper of her old lady waitress shoes.

"Shall we?" he asked and gave me a mock bow to fuck with me. Watching the giant like him bow was like watching a tree bend over to pick up a leaf.

"We shall."

The store was called Fade which I thought was pretty clever for an antique store. It was a small store, tall and narrow. It reminded me of two cracker tins, one stacked upon the other. Inside the walls were literally covered with kitsch. Old mirrors, tin signs, wind chimes and paintings of people long forgotten. Tables lay strewn with pottery, crystal, marble ashtrays and eggs made to look like very old, very expensive ones. Rows of sterling silver silverware and hand painted honest to god China winked dully in the sconce lighting. I fingered a velvet jacket on a padded hanger and a mink stole complete with head.

"Jesus, when's the last time you actually saw someone wear one of those?" he asked, pressing his bulk to my back. Crowding me in with his body so I stumbled once and he had to right me. I liked it, too and I could tell he was in on my secret.

Cheater.

I saw a gold watch with ornate black numbers on the shelf right next to an old chipped teacup on a chipped saucer. Next to it was a mosaic that had clearly been dropped and glued back together and a vase that was fractured but well above the waterline. A row of beautiful broken things. I picked up the watch.

"Broken," said a tiny little old man who was as bald as a golf ball and his head was just as bumpy. His face too. Once upon a time this man had been plagued by acne. "All that stuff is busted up, but hey—" he gave an exaggerated shrug, " you never can tell what folks will buy these days."

Johnny chuckled under his breath because I jumped. That little man had come out of nowhere, a wraith of a shopkeeper. I shivered from the rush of adrenaline. "Oh" was the brilliant thing I said.

The watch called to me. An object I shouldn't have been drawn to but was. Something pretty that had the potential to work but didn't quite…like me. It also made me think of time. Time my mother had been robbed of, time life stole. Time I had personally wasted seeking approval from my father that I really didn't want. And then resenting him the few times he did approve of me and resenting him more for all the times he didn't.

"How much?"

He shrugged. It's real and it's nice and it could be fixed. So…"

"I'll give you thirty dollars," I said.

"I was going to say twenty," he admitted.

That made me like him so I said, "Thirty it is."

He headed to the front of the store and Johnny leaned in, big and predatory. He was trying to intimidate me, I could tell. I let him.

"You were quiet all through breakfast and now you seem distant. Are you ever going to tell me what 's wrong? Maybe you should have left home at home? Is that it?"

We were on the road together. We had fucked together and he had shared me. I wore bite marks along the collar of my shirt and when I looked at him my insides contracted with heat and arousal and confusion and want. He deserved some kind of answer.

"I found out my father isn't looking for me. At all. He doesn't care," I admitted. My throat felt tight just saying it.

I was angry and hurt and beyond confused when Johnny tipped his head back and laughed. A deep belly laugh that came from somewhere around his toes.

I'd never wanted to punch anyone more in my life.

"That's what's wrong? The father you're running from isn't looking for you?"

I pressed my lips together. Why had I expected him to understand? Yes, I was running from him, but him looking…searching…giving a shit would have shown me that maybe somewhere in him he loved me. Not because I was his daughter—his possession—but because he just fucking loved me.

"Never mind," I said softly, turning toward the front of the store.

"Come on, Snowflake. You took off to get away from him. Are you really pissed that I find it amusing that you're now upset that he hasn't sent out a search mob for you?"

I shook my head. "It's fine. Never mind."

Liar

"Really, I—"

"I have to go pay the man," I said. I turned away from him before he could see that embarrassing and infuriating swell of tears in my eyes. I counted off my steps to the register. One-youwillnotcry-two-youwillnotcry-three-youwillnotcry…

I paid the man thirty dollars and on a whim bought an old silk necktie—black with white pinstripes—for Johnny. Why I was buying him a gift, I didn't know. Maybe it wasn't a gift. Maybe somewhere in me I intended to strange him with it.

STAY TUNED...

I finally gave up...

I wrapped up my handmade lap quilt today for family. It's a Christmas gift. Before you feel too impressed...it's last Christmas's gift. (O_O). Anyhoo, I wanted boy child to take a picture before I shipped it off. After several pictures like this...

I finally gave up and just took one like this and called it a fucking day...

In my defense, I sew entirely by hand as machines scare me to death. So...it takes me some time. Especially since I have the attention span of a coked up gnat these days.

Heh.

XOXO
Sommer

And a nice review for Blank...

From Queer Magazine Online.

"Sommer Marsden packs a lot of hard-hitting emotion into this short story."

Well, I do try :) Thanks to Lena Grey for reviewing me. To see the review whole review for Blank go here.

XOXO
Sommer

Coming Together: With Sommer - All Romance Ebooks

A lovely 5-star review for Coming Together: With Sommer (benefits LLS) from Alison Tyler. I didn't have to bribe her or anything. Such a stellar surprise!

Coming Together: With Sommer - All Romance Ebooks

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust part 35 "your own person"

Do you dress your characters in your favorite outfits? I do more than I realized. For instance, this was my outfit yesterday. You might recognize it.

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
part 35
by Sommer Marsden

I never did get that damn soda. I fell under so deep that I heard him come back in but couldn't rouse myself. There was a brief moment of what felt like peace when the mattress dipped again with his weight and I felt a single kiss dropped on the crown of my head.

I got a girl…I thought before being gone to the world all over again.

Five hours of sleep is never enough but you take what you get when you're floundering and finding your way as you go. I cracked one eye to see the motel room and realized that it was, in fact, uglier in daylight than it was in the dim light of the witching hour.

Johnny sprawled on his belly, head on the white pillow that looked so tiny under his bulk. I pressed my fingertip into the indentation where his neck met his scalp. It was the one spot of vulnerability I could see on this huge man.

He was built like a grizzly bear, but not overly bulky. But that one spot—that sweet spot—drew me in and I let myself stroke the back of his neck. Heat baked off him and his breath stayed steady, but he was playing possum. I yelped a little when he grabbed my leg and held me tight.

"What time is it, Snowflake?"

"Nineish?"

"Is that an answer or a guess?"

"A guess."

He rolled to his back and in the same deft motion yanked me in to him with one arm. He pinned me to his chest and kissed my forehead. "Ready to roll?"

"I am."

"Let's do it, then."

That made me think of Jackson, the Let's do it then. He always said that before a big job for daddy. Thinking of Jackson set the guilt free. It came rushing out of its neat little pen like a stampede of blackness.

"Let's do it, then," I echoed.

"You hop in the shower, I'll put my crap in the car."

Digging through my candy colored bags, I picked an outfit and put my stuff with his. "These can go."

"You want a donut? Probably a stale one," he said, grinning at me. "But they do offer a complimentary shitty breakfast. What's the word? Continental? Means fast and cheap?" That grin shot me right in the gut. It almost doubled me over with lust. I remembered him in front of me, poor Joe behind…shook off the image.

"No way. I want real food. How about I shower, you shower, and then we find a diner and I buy you some real food? My treat."

I expected bristling and bullishness. Instead I got another of those gut wrenching smiles. "You drive a hard bargain, Really, but okay." And he was gone.

I soaped myself ten times over and washed my hair twice, trying to wrap my head around this fucking road trip. And my life. I managed to figure out exactly zero.

We passed again in the grooming room outside the tiny bathroom. He snagged me by my postage stamp of a towel and dragged me to him. "You look pretty in that washcloth."

"It's a towel," I snorted.

"If you say so." Then he ripped it free of me and swatted my ass as I danced away.

"Johnny!" I shrieked, but I was laughing and it felt good. And strange. I was laughing all the way down in my belly where my chorus teacher used to tell me the best part of our voices lived.

"You know I could get you if I wanted," he said but turned to the bathroom for his shower.

Faded jeans, a taupe and white striped shirt, flats. It was sunny and windy—I could hear the gusts licking at the byways of the motel—but no rain. Flats would work. My hair was a tangled mess and I hadn't bought a comb but I had a pick in my purse. And my purse was by the phone and—

I stared at it.

Why would I do that? Why, oh why, would I put all that shit back in my head when I'd just cleared it all away?

I picked it up and dialed the 1-800 number for my father's office. I would just hear the place and know they were okay. It would only take a minute. It was fine—

"Blake and Associates," Gina answered. She was short and curvy with dark brown hair cut in a retro style that accented her big brown eyes. The eyes were pure Anime. She was a sexpot mixed with a cartoon character and the men loved her.

"Um—Hi, it's—"

"Really?" she breathed.

Damn.

"Hi, Gina. How's stuff?"

"You're the talk of the office," she said. I could picture her in some 1950s cut frock with matching pumps, leaning toward the phone. Her gossip face firmly masking her normal proper secretary features.

"Oh, am I?" I tried to sound nonchalant. Not nervous or needy for information.

"Of course. Poor Jackson, he's been a mess. I've been taking him to lunch every day just to keep his spirits up."

Was that a jab in her tone, a little shard of self righteousness in her voice? You've fucked it up and I'm here to pick up the pieces, you rich bitch... Maybe? Just maybe. Of course it was. Who was I kidding? And so what?

I'd cut him loose. He had every right.

But already? The vultures were circling, already?

I swallowed hard, heard the dry click in my throat and forced my voice as normal as possible. "That's great Gina. He needs a friend right now," I said. My voice sounded strangled and pained. I imagined her happiness to hear it and then shook it off. I was assuming. Seeing malicious intent where there might be none. That was wrong.

But it hurt and I hated to admit it. That Jackson would move on so fast was like a thousand little needles stabbing at my skin. That made me feel small and petty and stupid and there were another thousand needles stabbing at my soul.

"Did you want to talk to Jack?" she breathed, eager for the dirt, I could tell.

Jack?

"No. That's okay. I was just…" What the fuck had I been doing? "Checking in. To get the dirt and see how they were holding up."

There. That would make her feel in on it and maybe she wouldn't run around and tell everyone everything. Being the mailman, my mother used to call spreading gossip.

"The boys are fine," she said.

I felt myself bristle. That fucking rankled. The boys? Was Gina stepping in to be pseudo wife and daughter to my boys?

"My father?" I managed.

"Said if you wanted to be gone, he wouldn't stop you. That we couldn't stop you. None of us could. That you were…your own person." She said it fast. Eagerly. I hated Gina. I hadn't before, but I sure as shit did now. There was a true how the mighty have fallen ring to her voice.

Cunt.

"Oh." I took a deep breath to steady my voice.

Johnny walked in and I waited for him to grab the phone. Slam it down. Rip it out of the wall. I waited for a movie scene, is more accurate. Instead, he dropped buck naked at the foot of the bed and ran the tiny cheap white towel over his scalp.

"So you have nothing to worry about. He's not hot on your tail or anything," Gina laughed.

"Good," I managed.

"Hey, did you want to talk to your father? His meeting just ended and I can transf—"

"No," I said and hung up.

"Everything okay?"

I regarded him through brimming tears. I laughed. It was a mangled bark of a noise and he eyed me the same way a person would eye a rabid dog.

"Really?"

"It's all fine!" I laughed again. This laugh was coming from my throat, not my belly. This laugh burned on the way out. "Everyone is fine. It's great. Just let me make sure I have all my shit and we can roll out of here, big boy."

He cocked his head but stayed silent. Very sharp man, Johnny Rose.

*****

He got dressed slowly and let me be, but snagged me was I passed to pull my hair up.

"What's up, Really?"

"Nothing," I said. It was a lie. We both knew it. So much so, that saying it was damn near embarrassing and I blushed.

"If you don't tell me, I could bend you over and—"

I snorted out a laugh. "I'm sure you could."

He looked confused. The first time I'd seen that on his face. "So you just want a bite then?"

"Yes," I sighed. We could go and find food and pretend none of this had happened. Thank God, he was letting it go—

But no. He was putting his mouth to my exposed throat. My top was a scoop neck and showed off my throat and chest. He pressed his teeth to my pulse, capturing me from behind in his big arms, and he bit me.

A blossoming heat and sparkle of pain invaded my skin and I gasped. Then my pussy responded, moving against nothing, seeking friction.

Johnny plunged his hand into my top and my bra and pulled my breast up and out. His huge fingers squeezed the rosy tip hard, trapping gentle flesh between rough fingers. He squeezed and bit me again and my cunt grew tighter still.

"I think you need a bit of pain to focus you," he said.

I could only nod.

"I'm not going to fuck you," he said in my ear and then bit the tender nape of my neck. My belly rolled with arousal, my cunt flickering yet again. A steady beat had taken up residence between my thighs and the pulse in my groin outshone the one in my chest.

Not even if I ask? I wondered.

"Not even if you ask," he said, in my head again. So what was new? His teeth rested on my flesh—the potential for pain staggering and fucking arousing beyond belief.

"Stop doing that. Stop sneaking around in my skull," I sighed, but without an real heat. Because he'd moved around to the front of me and peeled my top down to expose the other breast. He blissfully tortured my nipples with his fingers—as strong and hard as clamps--until I thought I'd come right there. But the bites did me in. One along my collar bone, hard and sweet enough that bright lights flashed behind my closed lids. Followed by a brutal pinch of my now tender nipples. Another bite, sharp and fast, above my heart—the very heart that beat so hard for him right now—and the first flicker of orgasm hit me.

Was he really doing this? Could he really make me come just from…

He knocked his leg between mine and pressure on my clit was hard and insistent through my jeans. Just pressure. That was all. Then he bit my breast. To the right of my nipple, hard enough that in my mind I saw the word bruise appear in purple blue and black and then his mouth latched on to my swollen nipple and he bit me there and I—

When I came he held me up, my skin pulsing with the work his teeth had done. My breath catching in my throat and my vision wonky for just long enough to make me feel drunk, slow and stupid.

He grinned at me. Tucked my still damp hair behind my ears and said "Hungry? You've had a bite, now how about food?"

I stared at him dumbly before giggling like some small demented child and nodding. I was losing my mind. But what a way to lose it, yeah?

"Food," I said, putting my shirt right and going to fix my hair. "And then?" I called from the bathroom's outer room.

"And then?" he called. "And then more road and whatever that road brings us."

MORE SOON...