AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve learned life lessons. I may be younger than my brothers, but I get shit done and they can depend on me. But my feeling’s this.
You see someone in a casket and you know that will be you one day, so why the fuck aren’t you living your life now? Like every goddamn day to the fullest? People complain about shit like traffic and work and bills, but they miss everything. They don’t see the pale sprouts of spring poking their heads up through the cold dirt, or breathe in the fresh salt air at the ocean’s edge. Everyone tells me I don’t take life seriously enough, but my feeling is they’re the ones that are gonna frown their way to their fuckin’ graves. Me, I love life.
I know what they all think. That I shirk responsibility, that I don’t like commitment, that I sleep around because I don’t want to settle down. But I don’t care what any of them think or say.
I’m the one that lives his life. I’m the one that does whatever the hell he wants, and the only person I answer to’s my brother and my Don.
I live for the rush of adrenaline. The first kiss. The way you can make a woman smile and purr with the right words and touch. I love using every method of persuasion I have until she’s eating out of the palm of my hand. I like giving them pleasure and reveling in their responses.
Women are such delicate, beautiful creatures. I don’t want to cage them, I like to see them fly. I just like to visit a little while before their flight. Give them a little resting place to flutter their wings before they soar.
“No more questions,” I repeat to myself. “Then I can’t ask you if you’re hungry but can tell you that I’m starving.”
“Well, those kinds of questions are okay,” she says.
“Ah, so we have rules,” I say with a smile, nodding. I carefully watch her reaction.
She’ll know soon enough—very soon—that I’ll treat her well, but I’m the one that makes the rules. Still, I let her have her way for a little while.
I detect the faintest trace of an accent and wish I could put my finger on it. Something… European. With her blonde hair and bold attitude, it wouldn’t surprise me. Swedish?
My brothers would kill me for picking up a chick like this, for not knowing who she is or not having any more plans but to make her moan, to taste her pussy, and to feel those fingers of hers in my hair.
But it isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.
“So, Little Red Riding Hood.”
She wrinkles up her nose. “Not sure if I like that.”
I squeeze her thigh. “Maybe I have rules, too, doll.”
She parts her thighs a little. Ah. She definitely wants a little adventure, then.
“And what might your… rules… be?” she asks.
“You do what I tell you and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she says with a laugh like champagne, bubbly and decadent. “You can do better than that. That’s so Fifty Shades.” She says it like it’s vanilla.
Ah. A woman comfortable with a little power exchange, then. Good.
The road dips down, and the speed picks up.
She liked when I took back a little of the control. They’re like that, girls like her. They like to push, to poke a little, to see what they can get away with.
But deep down inside, they don’t want control. They want to lose control. They want it taken away from them so they can feel the exhilaration of letting go, of being swept away on a rollercoaster of emotion.
You learn a little bit about the female gender when you study the hell out of them.
“Alright, doll, I’ve got a pair of handcuffs in my jacket pocket.”
“Next to your gun?” Her words are a challenge, a dart thrown at a target. When I don’t respond right away, she misses the mark and I stay in control.
I smile at her. “Of course not. Everyone knows you keep your cuffs and weapons separate, baby.” I cluck my tongue at her and shake my head. Time for another test. “But be careful. Being nosy might mean Daddy might have to punish you.”
I feel the shiver run through her and push a little harder. Ah, yeah. She’s got the taste for a little kink.
“Get the cuffs, doll.”
“You want me to cuff you?” she teases.
Push, push, push.
I squeeze her thigh before I give it a little teasing slap. My fingers tingle where I spanked her. She draws in a quick breath, then melts a little closer to me. “Who’s driving this car?” I ask, my voice calm and steady, belying the pounding of my heart. I want her so badly it’s all I can do to keep from pulling this car over and seducing her right here, right now, spreading my jacket on the back seat of this car and making her scream so only the ocean hears her.
