Page 8 of Badd Love
ALL—NIGHT—LONG.
With his thick, hard, beefy arms wrapped around me like the world's heaviest weighted blanket. With that absurdly sculpted chest of his pressed against my bare back. With that long, hot, thick salami of a cock pressed up against my naked ass, teasing and torturing. I know, I know—I did it to myself.
I slept like a damned baby. He held me. He didn't try anything, even though I felt the full glory of his hard-on wedged between my ass cheeks. He just fucking held me, exactly as I'd asked, even though I was a rank bitch who ghosted him without explanation for my freak-out, blocked him, snapped at him at the wedding…andthendemanded he comfort me without any kind of reward.
Yeah, you'd feel like shit about yourself, too, so shut up with your judgment.
Fuck, I'm the worst.
Tears burned behind my eyes, and I dialed up the anger a bit just so I didn't start bawling right there in the ass end of economy class.
I mean, how dare Dane Badd be hot as fuck, funny as hell, incredible in bed,andunderstandingandforgiving? For real, where does he get off being all that?
The bastard. Save some winning for the rest of us, you damn glory hog.
Furthermore, I can hear you saying, "But Linz, wouldn't it be easier to just…I don't know…give the man an explanation?”
Yes. Obvi. That would besimpler…just noteasier.
Explaining my freight train full of emotional baggage is a losing proposition, where men are concerned. Me being kooky, independent to a fault, vulgar, foul-mouthed, and hypersexual as hell is all good and well when he thinks it's just a fun hookup, a friends-with-benefit situation, or just a low-key situationship. But when he gets a whiff of the traumatic fuckery that gestated all that fun weirdness?Poof. He’s gone. Buh-bye.
"Don't stick your dick in crazy," they tell their buds, andI'mthe crazy. It’s fine to stick your dick in my crazy when there's no drama and no obligation, but if they catch a hint of me having feelings, suddenly it's not so fine to stick their dick in my crazy.
So I don't explain. No trauma dumping from this loon. I get what I need, and I bounce before they get a chance to so much as crack off a morning fart. I mean, why invite more pain? I've had enough of that, thanks. I'll take my orgasms with a side of emotional unavailability, please. And most guys are perfectly happy to oblige. "I'll be gone before you wake up," I tell them, “so don't bother calling." Mainly because I don't give out my number, and if Ididgive a number to a guy, it was probably to a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco, or a massage parlor specializing in off-book happy endings.
Yes, I gave my real number to Dane. It was a lapse in sanity, I think. I'm not sure. I don't remember giving it to him. Probably because I was in a post-orgasm fog at the time and probably would have agreed to give him my firstborn, had he asked. Not that I plan to ever have kids, but you know what I mean. When a man dicks you down so good you forget your own name and need help walking to the bathroom afterward—legit, I did—you tend to go a sorta addle-brained for a minute. Sort of like how guys get after you've sucked their brains out through their dicks.
Ugh, now I'm thinking about his dick. About the sex.
God, it wasgood.
Rune and Duncan had been up in her room hashing their shit out, and then they came down and had it out with Rune's parents, which is when Dane and I made our escape. I don't think anyone noticed that I left with him. We had dinner and too many drinks, flirted with each other over tiramisu, shared a joint on the balcony of my apartment, and then he kissed me.
It was an epic kiss. The man knows how to use his mouth for a lot more than sarcasm and crude jokes, that's for damn sure. The man kissed me like he fucking meant it, all tongue and heat and hunger. He kissed me so damn good my panties were soaked before he even slid his hand up my shirt.
And then it wasonlike Donkey Kong. We fucked like porn stars, and he rode me hard and put me away wet. God, the man's cock was…chef's kiss. Gorgeous. Just big enough to make me question my life choices, but not so big I'd need an episiotomy beforehand. He was also blessed with the rare combination of having a massive dongandknowing what to do with it. I came so hard I saw the Lord. No, really—the stars bursting behind my eyes as I came left afterimages on my retinas that resembled White Jesus. Don’t ask me to explain it any better, because I can't.
That was great. Love it. Ten stars, would recommend. We both passed out, because I like to think I gave as good as I got. When he got up to take care of the condom, he had to move from bed to chair to doorway, holding onto any available surface for balance like a gym rat who hit leg day a little too hard.
Yeah, my pussy got game.
If he can still walk after you’re done fucking him, are you even doing it right? Asking the real questions, here.
I woke up to find him looking at me with a curious, speculative expression. We talked about nothing for awhile—bands, favorite concerts, movies, the random shit you chit-chat about with someone you don't really know but are naked in bed with.
This was followed by the most epic, mind-altering, pussy-shattering cunnilingus I've ever received. The tongue? The fingering? Fuck me. I must have come two, if not three times, in less than ten minutes, and he kept going until I had to make him stop because if I came any more, I'd…I dunno. Pass out again? Have a stroke?
Can you orgasm too many times or too hard? He pushed the limits, that’s for damn sure.
Once I stopped quivering and wasn't seeing double, I started returning the favor. I felt obligated, y'know? Like, the man just introduced me to the fact that I could, apparently, come while still coming, and I felt like that deserved a reward.
Under the right circumstances, I can be induced to enjoy giving head. It's just…a fraught proposition, laden with minefields of uncertainty: will I suffer a total mental breakdown while his cock-tip is playing tonsil-hockey at the back of my throat? No one knows! Not me, not you, not him, probably not even God, who I hope doesn't actually watch us fuck, by the way. That'd be weird.
Anyway.
I started going down on him. It was all good and well for the first minute or two. I was just getting started, really—establishing a nice thick base layer of saliva, some tongue-swirling, all the good stuff. No worry, no hurry.
And then?
