Dashing All the Way

by Chelsea Curto

Narrating wicked hot sex scenes helps take the edge off the whole we’re all going to die one day reality looming in the distance. “I’ve run out of reasons why Jada can’t listen to the books she loves. I sound like a controlling husband.” Rhett scowls at me. “I don’t know how to tell my wife I don’t want her to hear my best friend tell her to take it like a good girl.” “Been listening to my work, have you?” I grin and jump off my stool, throwing down two twenties to cover my part of the tab. “Maybe you’re afraid for her to listen because deep down, you know I’m much better at praise than you are.”

“Do you have TikTok?” “I’m a forty-year-old man. Of course I don’t have TikTok.” That confirms he’s older than me. I figured he was, but sixteen years is a big difference. And deliciously hot. I bet he’s experienced. I bet he knows his way around the bedroom. I bet he could find my clit within four seconds, a trait guys my age simply don’t have. Now I’m tempted to pull him into a dark corner and let him see my underwear. Would he get on his knees? Would he yank them to the side with his teeth or take them off and keep them in his pocket?

“Can you hike your skirt up when you walk away? I’m trying to decide if your underwear has a ton of candy canes printed on them, or if they’re red and white stripes.” I hum and toy with the hem of my green skirt, pulling it up my thigh half an inch. Finn’s mouth parts, and he blows out a breath. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll show you exactly what they look like later.”

“Your son didn’t know how to fuck me.” Margo brings her mouth close to mine. “Do you think you will?” “Baby, when I’m finished with you, you won’t be able to walk straight. I’ll give you exactly what you need.” She stands, eyes locked on mine. “Then what the hell are we still doing here?”

“Does this work into some sort of revenge plan? Your ex fucked you over, so you fuck his dad?” “And if it is?” Margo rolls her hips, and I almost growl. “Would it help if I called you Daddy?” “Fucking Christ.”

“We’ll get there, but it seems like you’ve been with a string of shitty guys lately. As the oldest man you’ll have slept with, I feel it’s my duty to promise you better things going forward. And that starts with a drink.” “Bold of you to assume you’ll be the oldest guy I’ve slept with. I banged a seventy-five-year-old last year.” “You’re joking.” I grin. “I am. But it was worth lying about just to see your reaction.” “Brat,” he murmurs again, and I’m starting to love that word.

“Open your mouth,” he instructs, and my lips part. He pours a shot of tequila into my mouth, but before I can gulp it down, he squeezes my cheeks together. “Keep it there until I tell you to swallow.”

“Are you planning on fucking me? Or are you all talk like the rest of the boys I’ve been with?” There’s a pinch on the soft part of my thigh, and I hiss at the sting. My eyes fly open and Finn is staring at me, his gaze heated and heavy. “You know I’m a man, Margo. Take off your underwear so I can show you I know what to do with my tongue.”

“Christ.” I grip her leg and scoot closer. My fingers drag across her entrance, and she is fucking drenched. “I’m thinking a lot of things. Mostly that I’m a lucky son of a bitch who gets to have this tight cunt all night.” Her legs open wider, and I grin. “You don’t have to worry about me not knowing what to do. I love to eat, Margo.”

“The question is if I should fuck you here so the neighbors you’ve probably met before could see or if we should do this in my room. What do you think, Margo? Where does the dirty slut want to ride her ex-boyfriend’s dad’s cock?”

“Still wet for me, baby?” I usually hate pet names in bed. They make me cringe and roll my eyes, but like everything else tonight, it’s different with Finn.

“Yeah, you are. Do you get this wet for other guys, Margo? Or is it just me?” “Just you,” I tell him, and it’s the damn truth. I’ve had orgasms. Guys have gotten me off. But I’ve never felt like this, like I’m simultaneously on top of the world but also rooted to him. Everything is magnified; his touch is electric. His words are poetic, and his mouth soothes every ache I’ve ever had.

“Perfect.” He thrusts again. “Fucking.” Another inch deeper. “Pussy.”

“Dirty girl,” he whispers in my ear. “Tell me, Margo. If I had been here when you and Jeremy were using my pool over the summer, would you have come and found me? Would you have slipped into my bedroom while your boyfriend was in the kitchen and showed off your body? Would you have taunted me with what I couldn’t have?” Finn twists my nipple, and I cry out. “Maybe this was your plan all along.”

“What are you thinking about?” Finn asks. “You just clenched around me. You’re almost milking my cock, Margo, so it must be fucking filthy.” “You. And doing things we shouldn’t.” “Like?” “Like giving you a blow job with Jeremy in the other room,” I admit, and he touches my neck. Strokes his thumb down my throat, and I groan.

“Hey,” I whisper, and his eyes sparkle with glee. “You doing okay, old man?” “I’m going to put you over my fucking knee later,” he warns me. I grin. “Told you I wanted to be punished.” “Christ.” He shakes his head. “I think you might kill me tonight.” “There are worse ways to go, aren’t there?” “Besides your pussy or with my hands on your ass? Definitely.” Finn grimaces and pulls his softening cock out of me. “Fucking hell. I could spend forever there.”

Everything about it is adult and mature, a guy who obviously has his shit together, but I’m not surprised. The man has a headboard, for god’s sake, so a fully furnished house isn’t a shock.

“The Christmas ornament.” I point at the ceramic tree on the corner of my desk, and she bursts out laughing. “Fuck yourself with that.”

“Oh, fuck no. You’re a goddamn paramedic, Finn. You’ve seen those viral videos of doctors warning you not to shove foreign objects inside yourself, right? I’m not going to the emergency room because I have a holiday decoration lodged in my vagina.” That makes me laugh too. “I made one of those videos last year for the hospital.”

I’m going to hell. There’s no way I make it through the pearly gates now, not when I’m down here about to fuck myself with a Christmas ornament while a man I barely know watches me. Jesus is probably rolling in his grave because of what a ho-ho-hoe I am.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. “Hard. Rough.” “I still have the recording going.” “Don’t care.” I tug on his sweatpants until they fall to the ground. “Let everyone hear.” “I knew I liked you.”

“I’ve been fucking women for years, and no one’s felt as good as you.” I’m almost folded like a pretzel, but his words are charming. I know it’s a line he’s using to make the moment more intimate and personal. He doesn’t actually believe it, but for half a second, I pretend like he does. I pretend like this is something we do every day, and it’s the only reason why I run my palms across his shoulders and whisper, “Kiss me, Finn.”

“Fucking love your cunt,” Finn says breathlessly. He stares down at me, a laser-sharp focus on my tits as they bounce. “How can I make this better for you, Margo?” “Could you…” I trail off and take his left hand, guiding it up my stomach. He pinches my nipples, and I suck in a sharp breath, dragging his touch higher. “My throat. I want you to squeeze my throat.” His eyes flare with lust. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” I nod and his fingers curl around my neck. “Tighter.” “If it’s too much, you tap my thigh, understand?” “Yes, Daddy,” I joke, and I don’t miss the way he slams into me extra hard. How his thumb strokes up and down my windpipe as pleasure builds low in my belly. “That feels so good.”

“I’m close,” I whisper. My energy is waning and I can feel the twelve hours of aggressive fucking catching up to me. “And once I finish, I want you to fill me up.” “Goddamn.” He folds his body over mine. His thighs knock against the edge of the chair and the hand at my throat moves to my head. He pulls on the ends of my hair hard enough for my neck to jerk back and look at him. “I could worship your pussy all day. Come for me, Margo. Show me how well you can milk my cock.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Margo under the desk. She’s staring at me, and her lips wrap around the toy again. My hand curls into a fist at my side, and I watch as she slowly works the silicone head into her pussy. “Jesus Christ.” “What?” “Nothing. I—nothing.” Margo grins. She drops her head back and starts to fuck herself, half the length of the toy disappearing inside her. “Just. Having a hard time remembering something.” “Are you having a stroke?” he asks. “You’re freaking me out.”

“How’s work? How’s the dealership?” I almost bite my tongue when soft hands work their way up my thighs. My fingers curl around the arms of my chair, and I don’t know if I love Margo or hate her. She traces the outline of my cock over my jeans, and it’s damn near impossible to keep my mouth shut. Love. Definitely love.