"Love for the Unloved" Contest Entry
Title: When Plan B Prevails
Pen name: TwilightCullenLvr9
Featured "B-list" Characters: Jessica and Mike
If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this contest visit the "Love for the Unloved" C2 Community:
http://www(DOT)fanfiction(DOT)net/community/Love_for_the_Unloved_Contest/72809/
Summary: One shot for the "Love for the Unloved" contest. Jessica, Mike, a horse named Mr. Ed at the Seattle Charity Polo Tournament— One night of passionate champagne wishes leads to unexpected turns when morning comes. Rated M for Lemon/Language/Drinking/Laughs. AU. OOC.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is the one rockin' this shit. I just do what I do.
Jessica POV
As I made my way down the aisle, I felt like a stripped skeleton with every inch of my insides on display for the world to see. Exposed, unmasked, unprotected, and bare. It was as if every customer I passed knew exactly where I was headed and for what reason. Even the young, blonde-haired girl, who couldn't have been more than six years old, with a Miley Cyrus shirt seemed like she was giving me the stink-eye when I clicked by in my stilettos.
I caught her mother's gaze as she took in my disheveled appearance—last night's worn makeup streaking on my face, large black sunglasses covering the puffy bags under my bloodshot eyes, tousled brown hair that was crying desperately for a flat iron, and the little black cocktail dress hidden underneath my white wool trench which was stained with champagne. Those were enough indicators to deduce the fact that my activities last night were quite questionable and that I most likely wasn't attending a late night Bible study to praise the Lord. But then again, I may not have been at Bible study, but I was most certainly praising a few deities during the course of the evening.
I might as well have come in naked, holding a blacklight up to the 'I had a lot of sex last night' that was conceivably written across my body in semen. I probably would've gotten the same reactions.
I should have felt shameful as this woman wrapped a protective arm around her daughter and attempted to lead her in the opposite direction, but I couldn't bring myself to regret the decisions I had made. It was one of the most memorable, most amazing nights ever; and had it not been for the little 'mishap,' I wouldn't be making this wonderful trip down humiliation lane—otherwise known as 'pharmacy aisle six' in CVS.
Before the woman could turn the corner out of sight, I lifted my sunglasses from my eyes and called out to her in as much of a fake polite tone as I could muster. "Hey, it's like a glimpse into the future, huh? Your daughter will probably be the spitting imagine of me in about ten years. I can see it now."
A look of pure shock, hatred and scorn washed across the woman's face, and I couldn't help but smirk and chuckle as I slid my sunglasses back down and continued the path to my awaited destination.
My stomach tightened as I turned the obnoxiously cheerful green and pink packaging over in my trembling hands. They should market this package more appropriately—black with a picture of a devil flipping you off seems better suited for this thing than a happy-go-lucky pink package that looks as if it's one step away from having Jonas Brothers' lyrics and purity rings plastered on it.
After reading over the instructions for taking the pill, I became satisfied that I had gotten what I came for and tucked the package under my arm. On my way to the check out, I decided I might as well grab a few other things I needed to try and take away from the fact that I came here solely to purchase Plan B Emergency Contraceptive. Not that it wasn't fucking obvious, but it would still help calm my nerves.
I quickly picked out a pack of thank you cards, my favorite mocha passion lipstick, a new memory card for my camera, an energy drink, and a bottle of Aleve—the last two of which would be immediately required as soon as I sat back inside the limo.
After standing for what seemed like years in line, I precariously placed my purchases in a pile and pretended to read the latest OK! Magazine cover-story drabble about Rob Pattinson and Kristen Stewart getting engaged or some shit. If only I got my hands on that boy…I'd gladly be in here buying a regular subscription of Plan B and popping those bitches like Tic-Tacs.
I whipped back around to the cashier as I heard her let out a small giggle. I assumed the bitch glare that I shot at her was melting her organs, because she quickly sucked in a deep breath and fumbled around, trying to place the items in a bag. Yeah, what the fuck are you laughing at, gangly check-out girl?!
"Problem?" I bitterly questioned the plain-looking cashier who's nametag read 'ANGELA.'
"No, uh, I…I mean, I just…I understand all the other stuff, but I've never seen anyone send out thank you cards after potentially getting knocked up," she whispered softly. What the hell! She thinks I'm mailing out a pack of twelve thank you cards as my sincere appreciation for last night's activities?! This girl is batshit.
"Well, from what I see, you probably don't get laid very often," I snapped. "But actually, the two items are in no way related." So mind your fucking business, cuntstick!
I slid my debit card and waited for her to hand me my receipt. She mumbled an apology as she handed over the slip of paper. As I reached out and took it, I placed my hand on hers and added sarcastically, "But now that I think about it, maybe that's a great idea. Wow, I'm so glad you thought of it. How does this sound to you, 'Dear insert name here, What an amazing night we had last night. I can still feel your touch all over me, exploring every inch of my body. I just wanted to send my sincerest thanks for all of the mind-blowing orgasms you gave me. We must do it again sometime. P.S., sorry my NuvaRing fell out at some point and I had to go buy Plan B to keep your super sperm from impregnating my drunk ovaries. Keep in touch. Love, Me.'?"
"I, um, I'm really sorry. Please don't take it personally. Things just come out of my mouth before I can stop them. I swear, I didn't mean anything by it…." She mumbled as she fidgeted nervously behind the counter.
I didn't even acknowledge her with a reply or listen to the rest of her babbling; I simply turned and walked back out, slid into the limo, and directed the driver to take me home. I was satisfied in my attempt to make light of this fucked up situation and to also teach that girl a damn lesson for making a snide remark like that to me.
Settling back into the seat, I managed to remove the Plan B pill from the packaging. Not wanting to wait another second, I swallowed it quickly, in combination with two Aleve's for the massive headache I was harboring and took a long sip of the energy drink. When I closed my eyes, I wasn't filled with wallowing despair about my shitty luck and unfortunate timing; all I could think about were the amazing circumstances that had brought me the greatest night ever.
*************
I had never been particularly interested in attending the Annual Seattle Charity Polo Tournament, because it was always a bunch of uppity-ups and high-society queens only looking to 'make an appearance' to show off their latest plastic surgery endeavor and tout their newest pricey purchase as they spread the juiciest, Perez-worthy gossip around the mill. It was the same ol' drab, on-your-best-behavior type of shit that made me cringe in disgust and want to vomit in traitorous boredom.
Although, in truth, I loved making these types of appearances; I lived for the excitement and fun. However, charity events such as these could never rival in comparison to the party scene I was accustomed to. Sure, my family was well-off, but I could care less about being amidst the social circles of the Seattle elite princesses.
The difference in my attendance this year from years past came down to the fact my best friend, Lauren Mallory, begged me to go with her to the event as her designated 'wingwoman' in her active pursuit of polo champion, Tyler Crowley. They'd both shown interest in the other, but being that he had girls surrounding him after every match, it was never crystal clear on what his intentions were. He made it impossible to tell if he was a fickle guy without a clue as to what he's looking for, or if he was the real, seal-the-deal type she was looking to snag.
Either way, I was down for gracing my presence and supporting my friend. Yeah, I'm so thoughtful, right? Well, and there'd be free bottle service—which roughly translated means I was gonna drink enough champagne that I'd have to go home and search for a new liver on eBay.
Everything was as could be expected throughout the course of the late afternoon. Lauren was catching the attention of Tyler with her presence, poise, pout, and the perfect–fucking-outfit (the four killer P's, when used in proper combination with confidence could make any man play-doh in a girl's hands, willing to abandon all morals and do any task she requested—even lick dairy products off her body like it was his last meal). All the while, I was rekindling my long-lost passion for my true love—Cristal champagne—thereby gaining the privilege of the snide remarks of a few gossipy old women who titled me as the 'black dress hussy with a glass of champagne in one hand and the bottle in the other.'
I should just hit those saggy bitches with the bottle…but that would be wasteful. And I should probably respect my fucking elders, or some shit my mother always spouted out as such.
Nothing was any different than normal until intermission when Lauren ran off to chat with Tyler. Things all changed drastically when I tipsily made my way back into the premier party tent for refreshments to acquire another bottle of my oh-so-favorite sustenance.
After ordering the beautifully labeled bottle and insisting with the bartender that only one champagne flute would be required, a deep, smooth voice from behind me resonated within my core. I knew that voice; I had heard it before in so many years past and in many dreams since. But it couldn't be…could it? I thought he was traveling Europe and studying abroad.
"Hello, gorgeous, I see your impeccable taste of the finer things is still as dominant as ever," the sexy, charismatic voice greeted while squeezing his glorious body in next to mine, and wrapping an arm around my waist as he placed a soft kiss on my cheek.
"Well, I have always enjoyed a good dom trait," I teased as I turned to stare into those pale blue eyes that had pierced my body so many times before. Holy cocker spaniel Jesus of Mary! A year away and this motherfucker came back rivaling David Beckham circa 2008.
Mike Van Der Newton was the epitome of delectable manmeat in my world—tall, blonde, blue-eyed, good looking, prominent family and charming. To top it all, he was lusted after by so many girls that he'd always been the ultimate prize. I reveled in the death glares and scoffs from all of the envious bitches around me, basking with the knowledge that they were all jealous of the attention that I was receiving. That's right, Jessica Stanley rocks this shit, bitches! Take note.
"Is that right? Maybe we'll just have to test out that theory a little later then?" Mike prodded with a quirked eyebrow that suggested exactly what I had envisioned happening so many times before.
Later? Why wait!? I've waited so many years! My vagina is never going to speak to me again if I pass up this opportunity!
I sucked in a deep breath and garnered the fierce confidence in me. "Oh, Mike, always the big sweet talker, but never one to follow through. It's a shame really." I shook my head with a pout while tsk-tsking him in the best teasing fashion.
"I never follow through?! Jessica Stanley, I believe you have been severely misinformed. But in all actuality, I'd love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night proving to you just how well I can follow through." Again, my uneven breathing hitched in my throat. Fuck, I'm gonna need a god damn oxygen tank to get through much more of this conversation.
Mike's playful smile was far more than inviting—it was 'come on in, have yourself some home-baked apple pie, and stay awhile' kind of tempting. His delectable jaw line and the way he tensed his jaw muscles made me want to lick all over his perfectly tan body like a fucking Tootsie Pop just to see how many licks it would take to get to the sweet, sweet center. Fuck me!
The heat from my center felt like it was burning a hole through my panties…oh wait, nope wasn't wearing any panties. I suppose, that saves me from soaking those motherfuckers, but all the same, I didn't want to let Mike know just how much he gets me completely worked up with only his presence and a few choice words.
"Promises, promises. I think I'll just stick with my original plan of getting my champagne and heading back over to my friends to watch the tournament," I laughed.
Hey you stupid twat, this is your vagina speaking…That's Mike motherfucking Van Der Newton there, in case you failed to fucking realize! Your plan sucks! Go with mine—Quit cockblockin' me, and just tell him you'll give up the goods.
I heard a small sigh escape his lips as he shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself, but may I at least accompany you?"
"Of course, but only if you behave," I replied with a wink before turning on my heel and sashaying my way out of the tent entrance and in the direction of where Lauren and our group had been sitting. I could see from across the field of the polo greens that they were nowhere to be found. Hmm, maybe my vag was right and it was time for plan B…
I spun around to find Mike two steps behind me, with another bottle of Cristal and the sexiest fucking grin plastered on his face.
"Where to?" he asked with sparkling bright eyes.
Here goes nothing. "So Mike," I began as I slowly traced my index finger lightly down his chest and hitched it just underneath his waistband of his slacks. "Does your family still own the Eastlake Private Stables?"
"Yes, that's where we keep all of our family's horses. You know that. Why?" he questioned, apparently not understanding where I was going with this. I would need to make this a bit clearer.
I leaned forward on my toes and moaned into his ear, "Up for some riding lessons?" So much for behaving yourself!
He quickly responded, "Jess, we've both had more riding lessons than any two people need in a lifetime, why…"
He pulled away with both hands gripping my waist and stared into my eyes, possibly searching to the reasons behind my request.
Likely finding the answers that he was searching for, I saw his Adams Apple bob as he swallowed deeply when the realization hit. His demeanor suddenly changed—sharpened. Mike looked like he was in the game now. "Oh, that sounds like the best plan you've come up with yet," he teased with a smirk as he wrapped his arm tightly around my waist, pulled me into his side, and led us in the direction of the Eastlake Stables, which were only a short hike down the hill.
"I'm glad you think so."
I pulled away and skipped a few yards in front of him, turning up the champagne bottle in my hand—glass be damned—and taking a long chug. Mike pulled the bottle down from my lips and took an even longer swig himself before leaning in and moaning nearly against my lips, but being insistent on not making contact, "Ung, you don't understand how irresistible you are to me, Jessica."
"I'd be more than happy to have you elaborate on that subject," I teased. "Compliments can get you eeeeeverywhere."
His smile widened. "The way you sway your hips is hypnotizing my mind and every second in your presence is spent attempting to control my overwhelming urge to do bad things to you…very bad things."
"I know, right? My walk is like an art form. If I were a dude, I'd so want me too," I laughed.
Mike looked pained. "I'm serious. The things I want to do to you would leave you screaming my name for days."
As much as it tingled my insides hardcore to hear that he wanted me, all this talking was wearing on my resolve. I wanted him right then; I'd wanted him for so long now, and I was tired of imagining or talking about that—just fucking get to it already. I just hate my vagina for being so damn needy and only thinking about how much it wants a penis inside of it…but I'm here to oblige.
"Prove it," I said matter-of-factly with no hint of insincerity in my voice.
Like a drag racer waiting for the green light before slamming his foot against the accelerator and peeling off down the street, the second those words escaped my throat, Mike's lips were pressed forcefully with need against mine.
He released the champagne bottles and glass from his grip and let them make the short descent to the ground. Thankfully, I didn't hear the shatter, so I assumed my precious cargo was still alright.
You need a fucking AA meeting!
Both of Mike's hands fisted in my hair ensuring my body was locked into a tight position against his. Like I would really want to remove myself from this position for fuck's sake!
The passion I felt was intense—it was like nothing else I'd ever experienced…and as far as experience goes, I liked to consider myself 'seasoned to perfection'—similar to a fine, gourmet dish layered in spicy herbs which only add to the pleasurable dining experience.
My hand grasped and caressed the back of his neck with a forceful insistence. I couldn't control my fingers as they urged to explore every inch of his body, and that's exactly where my hands roamed—under the tails of his white, designer blazer, clawing up and down his back against his fitted tee, before settling into a tight grip on his firm ass.
I let out a sultry moan into his mouth as I rocked my body into his, only begging him to hold me tighter. Our tongues continued mingling with raw passion, and the sensation numbed my body to the extent that I wasn't sure if I'd be leaving without an ambulance—but I didn't fucking care one bit.
I didn't give a damn that we were yet to be in the privacy of the stables, or that someone could walk up on us at any moment—that only seemed to fuel my wanton desire. Who gives a shit if everyone knows that I'm about to fuck Mike's brains out? I know I didn't, because they'd all know soon enough anyway; nothing is kept secret for long in our circle, especially nothing as spectacular as this. I mean, you never know when you'll snag the man of your dreams…and bang him in a horse stable. This is what true dreams are made of. Sounds like a fucking fairy tale, huh?
Needing more, I contemplated throwing him down on the dirt path before us and taking what I rightfully deserved. When he pulled away from me slightly, leaning his forehead against mine, and breathing heavily, it only intensified my longing. His eyes were heavy-lidded and lustful, and I squealed inside like a fucking fangirl knowing that I, Jessica Stanley, did that to Mike Van Der Newton, the creamiest of the fucking crop in the entire Northwest Coast.
Or maybe I'm the 'creamiest' because of him.
I noticed our chests were heaving in perfect synchronization as we spent the moment gazing at each other. I was attempting to regain my composure when Mike picked up our champagne, grabbed my hand and ushered me through the doorway of the pristine stable.
I only took one quick glance around before turning back to Mike, as I'd been in this place numerous times for actual riding lessons—and to see Mike.
After Mike shut and locked the door with a devilish grin, he took several slow, calculated steps toward me before plunging himself into fervent kisses against my neck and collarbone. My eyes reflexively rolled in ecstasy at the touch of his delectable lips and sweet breath against my skin, and my head lolled back, suddenly too heavy for my shoulders to carry the weight.
"Mmmm, Mike, wait," I breathed.
He stopped abruptly and pulled back. "Sorry, I thought you wanted this, Jess?"
My lips upturned into an amused smile as I pulled the nearly empty Cristal bottle from Mike's grasp and finished it off in one long gulp.
It's the champagne that's addicted to me, I tell you.
"I do want…this," I replied as I scanned my eyes over his entire body, possibly pausing a few painstakingly long moments on the bulge in his tight-fitting slacks before darting my gaze back up to meet his glassy, baby blue eyes.
"Good. I want you so damn bad, Jess."
When Mike leaned in again to reclaim his position, I stopped him with a single finger pressed against his lips and pushed him back.
I wasn't sure if it was the champagne that stole my inhibitions and morals, or if they'd been missing long before the third bottle, but I was feeling frisky. And damnit if I didn't want to do exactly what I envisioned in my mind all those times I'd spent here at the stables watching Mike brush and wash his horses shirtless.
"Ah, ah, ah. I do believe I was promised a riding lesson. And what kind of girl would I be if I didn't make you work for it?" I taunted with a seductive stare.
"A satisfied one?" Mike questioned with a small chuckle as he unwrapped the gold foiling and popped the cork of the last bottle of champagne.
"Oh, I'll be satisfied alright. Just as soon as I get my riding lesson. And you better make it fucking awesome, otherwise there won't be a second lesson!"
"And what exactly do you want to ride?" Mike probed, his tone thick with innuendos.
"Mr. Ed, of course!" I quickly responded. Mike laughed whole-heartedly. It was nice to see that even in this moment, he was still the same Mike Van Der Newton that I loved.
Loved? Er, scratch that! LUSTED! We lusted for him…but maybe you'll be lovin' him here shortly when the show gets started.
"His name is not Mr. Ed; I have no idea why you insist on calling Edward Vampingham the III that," Mike exclaimed with pure amusement laced in his voice. We have had this same conversation countless times, and I always continued using that name just to get Mike all worked up—I loved that I could do that.
There you go throwing out that blasted L-word again! Get a grip cuntbag!
"And I have no idea why you fail to understand that a horse is a horse."
"Of course," Mike added.
"Of course," I chirped with a ginormous smile. Mike just shook his head, but I didn't fail to notice the sexy upturned corners of his mouth.
"Why does Edward always get all the hot chicks to ride him? Where's the Mike-lovin'? I don't see how that's fair!" Mike exclaimed as he threw his blazer down to the floor in a mock-tantrum. Hell, he probably wasn't going to wear it again anyway; who gives a shit if it's dirty.
"Mr. Ed is patient…and you, my friend, are obviously not," I laughed.
"All commend patience, but none can ensure to suffer." I was sure Mike was quoting some philosophical writer from somewhere, but I couldn't give two shits less to know who.
"So are you suffering then?"
"Yes, every second that I'm not touching you I am. And, I do believe I had something to prove, eh?" Mike's eyes gleamed and erased any coherent thoughts from my brain for a few seconds. I shook my head to regain my brain functionality. Mike apparently took this as a sign of me being unsure, which it was so not.
"Changed your mind?" His face suddenly wallowed in disappointment.
"Hell no!" I blurted out before carefully thinking through an appropriate answer.
"So you ready for the ride of your life?" Mike teased with a chuckle as he led the way down the main corridor to the individual horse stables—one of which housed the Van Der Newtons' most award-winning stallion, Mr. Ed (or as their uptight asses like to call him, Edward Vampingham the III).
My stilettos clicked rhythmically against the tile floor as I walked over next to Mr. Ed and gently stroked his mane.
"I've rode Mr. Ed before. I'm sure I can handle…Ungh! Shit!"
I lost all balance when Mike scooped me up by my waist forcefully and lifted me onto the back of Mr. Ed. I was not expecting that, but it definitely caused my heart to race faster.
I braced myself with my hands pressed against Mr. Ed's back on each side of me as Mike ran his hands up and down my thighs as they dangled off the same side of the mighty stallion. Is it still called sidesaddle if the saddle isn't actually on the horse? Maybe…sidebareback?
Both his and my gazes followed his hands as they made ceremonious strokes across my bare skin. His head was perched in the perfect location to take whatever he desired. He apparently had calculated this fact, as he was inching his way up from my kneecap to the hem of my black silk dress planting soft kisses along the way. Mike moaned against my skin, which sent shivers down my spine that I literally had to shake off; but this only seemed to be more encouragement for him to continue.
"Mmmm, Mike. I want you to kiss me passionately on the lips…"
Just as soon as Mike stretched upward toward me to comply with my request, I thought it necessary to give a bit of clarification. "…and then work your way up to my belly button."
I couldn't harbor the giggle that escaped me as I watched his eyes widen at the brazen comment.
"Sounds like the roadmap to success to me," Mike responded. "I've been waiting for you to say that all fucking day." And I've been waiting for years…have a little fucking patience, will ya?
Just as Moses parted the Red Sea, Mike Van Der Newton parted my legs open to reveal the moist, awaiting destination. Moses' task of dividing a whole body of water was probably much harder than Mike's in getting my legs spread. I mean, it's not like I had a chastity belt on or anything. But, it's the gesture anyway.
The feral growl that bubbled in his throat when he took in the sight of my naked, wet folds succeeded in making them just that much wetter. Well, he is in the same league as Moses now, right?
"God, Jessica, you are so fucking glorious. It's downright sinful to strut around all damn day in that dress without any panties," he moaned. "Had I known that, we'd have been in here hours ago!"
I laughed, and before I could respond, I felt Mike's grasp tighten against the inside of my thighs as his tongue slid up and down my slick center. He manipulated my pussy with precision, varying the speed and motion of his licks and sucks. He played me as if each motion was an individual musical note to be played, all of which together made a complete ballad. Fanfuckingtabulous, mind-blowing, orgasm-inducing musical notes.
My hips were bucking wildly; the involuntary motion acted as a direct indicator to how Mike was working me into a tight tizzy with the skill of his warm tongue.
Hips don't lie.
Thanks for that, Shakira.
I'm just sayin'.
Mike griped my thighs in an attempt to hold my legs in their position perched over his shoulders with hopes of pacifying my 'truth-telling' hips—at least for the moment.
The tension in my body was mounting to a cliff that I knew I would surely fall off of soon. "Oh lord! Mike that feels so…good," I cried as my head rolled back. I closed my eyes to focus on the feeling of Mike lapping up all my juices.
"Mmmm, baby. I could eat your sweet pussy all fucking day," Mike moaned against my swollen heat.
"Mike…I'm…so close," I choked out in a strangled whisper.
"Cum for me, Jess…now," he demanded in a tantalizing way that made me delight in his control of the situation…his control of me.
Unexpectedly, Mike thrust two fingers inside of me, as he continued the licks, sucks and soft bites on my clit. Precisely, he curled his fingers into my front wall, hitting the exact spot that I so desperately needed, enticing the euphoric feeling to tremor inside of me. Immediately, I began to writh in ecstasy as I felt my muscles clench as my climax shook through me; my body quivered.
Mike fervently intensified his motions as I rode out my orgasm at the cause of his wonderful tongue. Oh, how I was in love with that tongue… Enough with the love shit!
After Mike finished me off with sweet, tender sucks and licks, he pulled me forward off of Mr. Ed and wrapped my legs around his waist. My naked core pressed firmly against his lower abs. I wasted no time in diving into a passionate and frantic kisses all over his mouth, ear, and neck while my hands took refuge and fisted in his blonde hair as I claimed purchase in the skin of his neck.
"Fuck me now, and fuck me hard, Van Der Newton. I need to feel you inside of me," I demanded as I stripped him of his shirt and tossed it to the floor, revealing a flexing block of defined muscles. Damn, this boy was fucking sexy as hell. How I ever resisted raping the ever-loving shit out of him was beyond my comprehension.
"God, I wanna feel you from the inside too," Mike claimed, throwing a quick glance around the room before crushing his lips into mine and pressing my back against the rough planks of the wall.
With the wall as my new support system, I used it to keep my body in place wrapped around Mike's, as we hiked my dress up around my waist. Eagerly, I moved my hands from around his neck to unfasten his belt and pants.
I unzipped his pants and grasped his swollen cock. The tip was already glistened with pre-cum that I managed to spread all over his girth with my steady strokes. The friction of my hand against my wet center with each pass, combined with the fact that his dick was only a mere inch from the very place where I yearned for it to be, was enough to drive a girl fucking mad.
"Fuck, Jessica!" Mike gasped between short breaths. "That feels fucking amazing!" The constant murmurs eliciting from his red, fuckable lips made my own pleasure continue to build and build.
"Oh, I'm…gonna…" And his seed spilled out around my fingers. I kept pumping furiously as he shivered and made the cutest fucking squinty orgasm-face ever.
I made use to clean my hand by licking up every drop from each of my fingers as Mike watched on with a deep-seated, lustful gaze. "You are fucking amazing," he complimented as I felt his rock-solid cock sliding through my folds, teasing me.
"Stop being a fucking tease or you will regret it Mike Van Der Newton. I swear to God!" I chastised.
"I would never, Jess," Mike's grin widened as his engorged cock braced itself at my entrance, begging for permission to bury itself inside. I threw a suggestive glance at Mike as my hands found purchase against his neck again, and that was all the incentive he needed before slamming deep into me, and causing me to cry out at the overwhelmingly filling and satisfying sensation of having him—all of him—inside of me.
"Oh mother of fucking Mary! Do it harder, Mike! Do me harder!" I wallowed out.
After a moment of settling into the sensations of the thick, long dick inside of me, Mike pulled back nearly all the way out before rocking back into me in one swift motion.
"Ohhhh, yes! Fuck me, baby!"
His deep thrusts continued powerfully and consistently as we both cried out moans of our pleasurable ecstasy. His grip on my ass cheeks was firm and wild as he handled the task of holding me up against the wall all while fucking the ever-loving shit out of me.
This boy could never disappoint my expectations! EVER!
When he hitched his arms under the backside of my knees and spread my legs open further, the pace of his thrusts quickened, and I was thriving in the sensation of his huge cock ramming into me at such a fast pace.
"Oh yes, Mike. Yes!"
"Does that feel good?"
"Yes! Yes! That's…it!...I'm…almost there!" I nearly screamed as I bit into his shoulder in an attempt to expel the quivering inside of me.
"Cum for me, Jess! Cum with me!" Mike commanded in rasp bursts, never pausing his motions, actually quickening and deepening his thrusts.
"Oh gaaaaaawwwddd!" we both cried out as we came together, riding out of orgasms in the best way.
We sat there for minutes, panting and sweating like whores in church. And no, I don't attend church, so I never have to worry about situations like that.
He then wrapped his arms around me tenderly and placed me back on my feet. But apparently it was much too soon after the mind-rocking sex that disengaged all functionality of my limbs, because I nearly fell just as soon as Mike let go. My fucking legs gave out, still quivering in pleasure, but Mike was able to catch me before I knocked myself out. Either my legs weren't working or I drank too much fucking champagne…or both!
"Shit, are you ok?" he asked.
I felt my forehead. "Yeah, I just…um…need a minute to sit down."
He swept me up and took me over to the main office in the stables and laid me down on the couch.
"Just lay here for awhile, then. Do you want water or anything?"
"Just some Aleve and a glass of champagne," I replied as my eyes started betraying me by feeling as if they had a damn sumo wrestler sitting on them trying to force them closed.
"I'll be right back," Mike whispered as he planted a tender, soft kiss on my forehead and swept my sweaty hair that was stuck to my face to the side.
--------
And that was all I remembered until I opened my eyes the following morning to see Mr. Van Der Newton. No, this isn't my new nickname for Mike to show my respect for his sex skills…I mean Mike's dad, Mr. Van Der Newton.
He was standing above me with a pissed-off scowl on his face. Could my luck get any shittier?! Urgh!
I rubbed my eyes and glanced around the room, then realizing that it was early morning with the sunlight streaming in the windows and I was still laid out on the sofa in the Van Der Newtons' stables where I had been last night. I saw Mike curled up in the chair beside the couch; he was still sound asleep.
"What do you think you're doing, Miss Stanley?" Mike's father gruffly demanded.
"Um…sleeping?" I questioned timidly.
"More like whoring yourself out and purposely trying to entrap my son with a pregnancy. If you think for one second you're going to weasel your way into this family, you're sadly mistaken." What the fuck is his problem?! I mean, yeah we had sex, but I'm not trying to weasel my way into anything…well maybe Mike's pants, but still!
"I, um, I don't know what you mean, sir," I rasped out in a shushed whisper. Damn, my head was pounding. That third bottle of champagne was a mistake…And anything I drank after that was probably just excessive!
"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean. Otherwise, why would you take this out?" He pointed at my NuvaRing laying on the floor next to the couch. Holy fucking shitballs! When the hell did that come out from inside me!?! Oh fuck, Oh fuck, Oh fuck…What kind of craziness happened that would make that come out of me?
Mr. Van Der Newton's face was growing redder and redder due to his obvious anger over the situation and my lack of explanation as my mind ran wildly trying to recall the events that of the past night. Did we do it after I laid down on the couch? We must have…shit! How long has that been out? Longer than three hours and I need to go get an Emergency Contraceptive…
"I need to go," I informed in haste as I jumped up and grabbed my shoes and jacket.
"You may want to drag yourself down, but I can guarantee you're not taking Mike with you. Do you understand me? Mike's got a future, and a baby with you is not a part of it." The venom in his voice was unsettling.
The tears were beginning to well in my eyes as I took a long look at Mike's slumped form sleeping peacefully through the train wreck I've just made of my life.
The sting from Mr. Van Der Newton's words was harsh, but I had to at least say my peace before I left the Van Der Newtons and their hawty-tawty sense of family alone. "Mr. Van Der Newton, I have never claimed to be a perfect angel, but I would never do anything that was going to hurt Mike…or his future. This was all an accident, and I'm truly very sorry."
His eyes probed mine in search of a hint of insincerity, which he of course would not find. "Great, looks like we're on the same page then, since I know what is best for my son. There's a limo waiting outside to take you home, and you're to stay away from Mike, otherwise you will surely regret messing with this family," he threatened.
I gave a quick nod before rushing out the door and into the backseat of the awaiting limo. Dry sobs broke through my lungs as we pulled out onto the highway. What I thought was going to be the greatest night of my life just turned into the worst day after that could have possibly came. I need to get to a fucking drug store for Plan B and forget all about this shit.
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Mike's dad was an asshole. Second, there was a part of him—and I didn't know how dominant that part might be—that hated me with a passion. And third, I had unconsciously and irresponsibly fucked up my chances of ever having anything more with Mike Van Der Newton after that one night.
AN: First off, I'd like to thank...
Kanye: Yo, Jen! I'm really happy for you and everything, and Imma let you finish, but the TV show from the 60's had one of the best Mr. Ed's of all time!
Yeah, I know, Kanye. I mean, he talked and everything! But can I finish please?!?
Kanye: Yeah, just as long as you know he was the best….of all time.
Seriously, I got it. Let's try this again peeps…I'd like to send out a hella big thank you to my girls angelnlove52 and VampPixyJAK for betaing and helping with ideas for this story to make it good enough to enter in the contest! It means the world to me to have such fuckawesome friends!
So please review and let me know what you thought of the story and the Mike and Jess stable rendezvous! It would make me twigasm in joy! ;)