Page 15 of Dash

He’d caught sight of her on his way back in, his bag slung over his shoulder. She had blue and green hair. Intrigued by how someone accomplished blue hair on the top that faded into green, he had to investigate. The bright color was impossible to miss. The saturation was impressive. Even more so as he wrapped it around his fist while her head bobbed up and down his cock.

What a trooper. His crotch had to stink. He’d done the courtesy splash in the bathroom, even used a wet wipe before he decided he’d sample the local cuisine. He hadn’t showered. A better man would’ve showered. He’d taken off his leather chaps, though. That had to count for something, right?

Okay, fine. He was a dick, but she wasn’t complaining.

Pushing her head down on his thick erection, hearing her gag, he grinned. Not that he’d given her much of an opportunity to voice a complaint. There were perks to not being a better man. Like being balls deep in the throat of a chick with blue and green hair. Fucking fascinating hair.

As he held her head down, he thrust his hips up and her throat muscles spasmed again. He groaned. It felt amazing. He’d argue this was Valhalla. As much as he hated to do it, he let her go so she could breathe. Dead bodies weren’t his thing. Even he had limits.

When his cock slurped from her mouth, spittle connected her bottom lip to his swollen cockhead. Sexy as fuck. Snot ran down to her chin, mixing with her drool. Dark black lines decorated her cheeks from her puffy teary eyes. What a beautiful mess. This was what he’d call a hot mess, if it wasn’t already a derogatory term. She peered up from between his thighs, on her knees, with a pitifully hopeful expression.

Aw, she earned it. He was a giver after all.

He’d have preferred to shoot a load down her throat, but it seemed she had better ideas. Leaning down, Dash pressed his lips to her warm forehead. She’d worked hard deep-throating him. Not much longer than average, he wasn’t massive in that department, but he was pretty thick. So, taking him took some doing. “Good girl,” he said, then ran his hand through her very interesting hair. “Get up.”

As she stood up, he did the same. Reaching into his bag, he got his condoms and tossed the sack on the floor, clearing the chair he’d sat on. He didn’t trust anyone else to provide protection. He’d heard horror stories of club sluts poking holes in them to get knocked up, trapping brothers. Fuck that noise.

Once fully sheathed, his now blue dick stood straight out from his body. With his hands on his hips, he twisted a bit, watching it sway and made the light saber noise in his head before reminding himself he was a grown ass adult and there was a grown ass woman waiting to be fucked. Right.

Stalking toward her, he planted his hands on her hips. As a fuller figured woman, she had a lot to work with. Tall too, only maybe two inches shorter than him. Turning her, he bent her over the chair in the corner of the small room. With one hand fisting his cock, he stroked himself, keeping hard enough to go in. The other hand probed her smooth, slick folds.

Finding her heated but not quite ready, he teased her slit. He pressed his fingers against her opening, not quite dipping inside. He leaned over her so his mouth came down on her shoulder. After gifting her with soft kisses, low moans were his reward. Delving deeper into her sex, and pressing his thumb against the nubbin of nerves, she gave him more of what he wanted: wetness, and squirming.

Louder noises and whimpers escaped from her mouth when he pinched at her folds. Using two fingers, applying slight pressure, he swirled around her clit and she bucked back against him. There it was, the magic combination to get her going. He used it a few more times until he was satisfied with how wet she’d become.

Pulling back, he focused on guiding his dick toward her opening. Once he had the blunt end of his erection against her heat, he pushed hard, unable to hold back. Her pussy gave with what felt like a pop and welcomed his full length. That first moment of filling a woman was the best. Tight, wet, and hot. He enjoyed it for a few seconds before he bent over her, reached down, and took hold of her heavily swaying breasts. He’d enjoy her channel by rotating his hips in a circular motion, experiencing her tightness while he fondled her natural breasts before he’d thrust hard inside her.

He didn’t intend to draw this out. He wasn’t making love. There were no expectations or delusions of more. They both knew it was no-strings fun. He needed a fucking release, and she was here to give it to him.

Gritting his teeth, he drove into her like a rutting boar without a care. She grunted under him and he pinched her nipples hard, pulling them away from her body, losing himself in the feel of her cunt gripping him. Fucking magic. The condom took some of the sensation away, but fucking was fucking.

She squealed in pain so he let go of her tits. No safe word. No pain.

Rearing up, he grabbed her hips, pulling her back toward him as he thrust into her. She cried out louder, and it spurred him on. His thighs slapped against her ass, and her pussy was so wet, there was a slick sound as his cock slid in and out. Fuck, he loved those sounds. It was raw and dirty. He pounded harder, moving a hand to her hair, her gloriously blue and green hair. His fingers spread, sliding up her neck, over the back of her skull. Grabbing a fist full of it, he yanked.

Thrown off balance, she yelped. Forced upward, her arms flailed as she tried to steady herself. Surprising women, oh the thrill of doing the unexpected danced in his gut and made his dick twitch deep in her pussy. His other hand snaked around her hip, finding her clit. His mouth now level with her ear, he sucked the lobe between his lips. Dragging his teeth along the skin, he was careful not to bite hard. She shuddered against him as he pressed and rubbed her clit in circles. It wasn’t an orgasm, but she was close. He’d get her there.

Moving together, her moaning and grunting turned to ragged breathing and panting. She may have even begged. Who knew what she said in those muttered, garbled utterances. He could feel the sheen of sweat coating her body as her thighs slid over his own. He varied the pressure as he pinched her clit. It wouldn’t be long now. Only a few more good thrusts before she’d let go.

Then she fell completely silent and stopped breathing. Her pussy walls clamped around his cock. Jesus Christ, it was borderline painful. Her body jerked. There it was. Almost positive she’d had an orgasm, he released her hair, and she fell forward. He let loose. She had her fun. Now it was Dash’s turn.

Chapter 8

Liz “Gingersnap”

Present Day

Forty-five minutes of hair and makeup was fun. Picking out outfits was an absolute blast. It’d been forever since she’d worn her corset. Letting Anemone lace her in to the point she could only take shallow breaths left her heady. She truly missed this part of the kink lifestyle.

Thigh-high stockings, garter belts, impractical platform heels that looked great in pictures, but she could never walk in for any length of time, and an A-line plastic skirt. She looked like she’d walked into or out of a fetish photoshoot. Truth be told, she had.

Anemone may have “talked” her into it, but it wasn’t a hard sell. Kink wasn’t something she could deny about herself. The longer she stayed away, the stronger the urges became. So, at the mere suggestion, she practically jumped out of her skin at the chance.

She did it knowing full well her friend would use it to suggest Liz rejoin the kink community—peripherally. Online was the way most people started with kinky shit, and Liz was no different. So re-dipping her toe in the water would start the same way.

It was how she found herself sitting—with perfect posture in a corset—on the floor with Anemone, with her laptop, while her friend created a new profile for her on the kink website she’d once been on before she met Richard. Liz gnawed at the side of her thumb, telling herself that not all the guys on that site were Richard.

“Okay, so,” Anemone sighed. “What would be a good name?” She hummed. “Something about your hair. Guys love redheads,” She said as she peered over at Liz and ran her fingers through Liz’s long thick fiery tresses. “Phoenix Rising,” she suggested.

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