Hawaiian Delite

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Hawaiian Delite

Delite toweled herself off wishing she could just walk off the set.

“One or two more shots and it’s a wrap,” Meryl said, walking toward her.

“You said that twelve shots ago, “She protested from a seat without shade.

“Come on,” he cajoled, hauling her from the beach chair, “On your feet. You have to pay me back for those puppies, right,” He asked, training his rat-face and squinty eyes on her chest.

She walked to the backdrop cursing him silently and struck a pose. This better be it, you smarmy snake.

Meryl snapped several shots ordering, “Shoulders back, chest out. Smile!”

She glared holes through him wishing she had been able to turn down this junket and forced a frozen smile for the camera.

“You’re not giving me what I need, Delite!”

“Meryl please,” she plead, wondering if one more smile would fracture her face permanently.

“I need, ‘Come fuck me in Hawaii!‘ I need,”

“Meryl, I’m begging you,” She interrupted.

“I need more, Delite! I need a brochure that says, ‘I’m a free whore! Come to Hawaii and I’ll jack your junk!’”

Infuriated, she grabbed her shirt and yanked it down nearly exposing her nipples.

“Excellent,” he smiled haughtily, “That’s better! Great!”

She barely had a white-knuckled grip on the last of her patience and allowed herself some small amusement at his expense. ‘Excellent? Great?So now you think you’re a professional? I’m going to be a rich supermodel and then I’ll stomp you into the dirt with the rest of the scumbags in the biz. She pushed her toes into the sand, smiling coyly, imagining crushing him like a bug.

“We’re losing daylight,” He shouted, pointing at the crew beckoning them to move the set, “Okay! This is it! Let’s do it! Lick your lips and show me that B.J. pout,” Meryl ordered, turning back to her.

Delite turned it on one last time as the sun sank behind her and prayed for an end to this grueling day. He moved in for a close shot and she yanked her bikini bottom down leaving precious little to the imagination. With pearl-white teeth clenched, she talked herself through the shoot. He’s a dick. No big. You’ll work for lots in this business. Besides, she thought, this is just getting a start. This is the hard part; paying your dues.

Meryl stretched his thin lips into a lecherous smile saying, “Perfect! Now lean in and show me the goods, baby! Let’s part those oldsters from their money!”

Delite leaned down as Meryl moved in again. He made her skin crawl and she knew, at this range, he wasn’t shooting for the brochures anymore. He took another step and she lost her tenuous hold. With his face and the lens very nearly down her cleavage, she fisted the business end of the camera to shove the hardware back into his face.

Owww! What the fuck? You don’t act like a model who wants to get paid, Delite,” he warned, wearing a smirk that made her want to spit nails.

She took a deliberate step, not releasing the lens, and moved her face close to his. They stood nose to nose as she ground out, “It’s a wrap, you S.O.B., and I better not find any of your close-ups anywhere but the trash!”

Delite turned away to retrieve her towel, muttering, “Lowlife, good for nothing, scum- sucking shit. If I wasn’t desperate, I’d be on my way to the airport.”

Meryl was one step behind her, asking, “Really? With what, Monopoly money? Until those tits are paid for I own you, so you’ll do whatever I want, slut!”

She froze at the sudden realization that she’d sold her soul to the devil incarnate. Turning on her heel she spewed murderously, “You make me physically ill. You’re vermin! Go be with your own kind! Turn over any rock!“

“Not until I’m paid in-full, you cock-sucking slut!”

Fine,” She screamed, hot-footing it to the hotel door, “That’s just fine! You’ll get paid! I’m making a one-night-only offer to the boil on the butt of the human race, to get you off my back forever.”

Meryl stayed on her heels as she ran for the elevator. Catching the doors, he  forced them open threatening in a low, menacing tone, “You’ll part like these doors for me or I’ll fucking split you open!”

The doors closed behind him and he backed her into a corner.

“Never corner a wild animal, rat shit! You’ve been warned!”

He grabbed her shirt at the bodice and yanked hard. Delite watched him throw her ripped beach wrap aside and she sprang at him; clawing his skin, scoring him sharply, screeching, “That cost a lot , fucker,” as the doors rolled open again.

Meryl picked her up seething, “Shut the fuck up or I’ll add an extra week to this shoot,” then flung the room-door open and body-slammed her onto the bed.

She stifled a surprised cry as he removed his belt, issuing a demand, “Kneel, bitch,” He snarled, tossing pants to the floor.

Delite knew she was defeated. She knelt before him trying not to look up. Meryl stood firm cupping her chin roughly. Finally, she raised her face and their eyes met. They fell into hysterics, laughing until they were sprawled on the floor. Just as suddenly, her eyes were smoldering and she clawed the rest of his clothing out of her way.

She attacked his lower extremities, violently sucking his cock and grazing him with her teeth as she pushed up and down his firm length. He forced his stiffness down her throat mercilessly, making her choke and struggle to breathe, pummeling her bruised lips relentlessly.

In a last-ditch effort to regain control she pushed off the floor, finding just enough leverage to roll him over. She mounted him cowgirl posture with knees on his forearms. Delite smiled victoriously, “Beg me,” she commanded smugly.

Meryl shook his head and she clasped his face between her thighs, demanding, “Eat me! You know you want to.”

She slid closer to his face and Meryl grasped her round, silky ass, pulling her to him. He licked small circles around her clitoris, teasing her and letting her frenzy build until she could take no more. He ran the tip of his tongue around her tiny nub slowly, letting her sexual need build and burn until she was vibrating astride him.

She fisted his hair as he breathed hotly against her bundle of nerves. Pulling her sweet pussy into his mouth, his tongue speared her depths searching out her most intense pleasure, slowly delving in and out, and deepening each time. He meant to enjoy every moment of this bounty.

Delite bit her lower lip to stifle a primal scream as he tongue-fucked her masterfully. She bucked wildly; riding his face like her life depended on it, until he forced her onto her back to drive his hard, aching need into her moist, craven cunt.

She abandoned all dignity and control as they fucked savagely, thrashing and thrusting until they exploded in blinding ecstasy. She screamed her unbearable release with Meryl’s cock throbbing and jumping in the confines of her taut, dripping canal. They lay together side-by-side in each others arms, momentarily sated, and she giggled, “I love this game!”

He laughed with her, saying, “Me too and I’m damned glad we got married last night. If you hadn’t said yes soon, I was sure to end up in jail.”

Delite shrugged, teasing impishly, “Why buy the horse when I’m getting a free ride?”

“Because we were made to love each other,” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Yes, yes, yes, we were,” She sighed, “Oh! Next time, let’s play ‘How many hotels we can get thrown out of?’”

Meryl rose, turned down the bed and fluffed the pillows as she snuggled close to him, “You’re on, my beautiful bride, but you’ll have to repay me for those free rides,” he taunted,  feigning indignance and already planning their next game, “Of course, I’ll try to go easy on you, since you are now my sole Hawaiian delight,” he chuckled.

She pulled up a tan, slender leg to plant her foot on his ass and shove him off the bed, laughing, “Don’t you dare!”

Meryl peered up at her from the floor, rubbing his bruised ass with eyes narrowed in challenge, then pinned her to the headboard rasping in his intimidating tone, “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

Her lips turned up in a sultry smile and she whispered, “More Hawaiian Delite? It’s on the menu for only one night.”

Meryl growled and lunged at her.

By Wildfire8470
© copyright 2014-10-18 07:06:03 -All Rights Reserved

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Craving Kitkat

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Craving Kitkat

Kit

 


 
 

Henry woke to the sound of a motorcycle rumbling outside and squinted at the digital clock, grumbling, “2 am. on a Tuesday. Don’t the neighbors know I have to work in the morning?” 
 
 

He rolled over pulling a blanket with him when he heard knocking at the door. For a moment he hesitated but urgency propelled him from his bed. It was an uneasiness he hadn’t felt in months. Henry fought to surface from his dream-laden sleep, talking to himself and attempting to recall when he’s last felt this way.
 
 

“Not since I was seeing,” He cut short his thoughts and pulled the door open to find Kit leaning against the doorframe wearing a familiar look; one that seemed to say, “What took so long, asshole?”
 
 

He smiled despite himself. She was the only woman he couldn’t read, but even entirely disheveled, with her hellfire hair windblown and tangled, she was a vision.
 
 

Kit incited feelings in him that were utterly endearing, if somewhat disquieting. She was woman and child; part fully grown, tougher than nails, strong in her own right temptress and vixen, yet part playful, silly, wide-eyed innocent, coquette with a bit of wild child.
 
 

Henry studied her wondering whether to fold her into his protective arms or pin her to the wall and ravage her. He could never quite discern what was veiled with practiced stealth behind her eyes.
 
 

When they lived together briefly, he surmised that she meant to send no obvious message, intentionally leaving him to wonder whether she wished to appear mysteriously alluring or had, perhaps, arranged for his early demise. Her turbulent seastorm eyes and lips that only turned up slightly at the corners could mean one of two things, his greatest joy or worst fear realized.
 
 

Had he been Superman, she would have been Kryptonite. Kit loved with an intensity that left him gasping in astonishment, and in the space of a breath she could be the embodiment of tornadic wrath swirling around it’s entirely too attractive eye.

You may be the death of me, he thought, remembering that she had always been a volatile creature, albeit an enticingly beautiful one. He was certain she had been a mythical Siren in a past life. She had certainly lured him with her charms and left him in emotional peril with his hopes dashed.

Even entirely disheveled, Kit was stunning with fiery locks framing her angelic face. He had nicknamed her “Hellcat” for the riotous red waves she could never quite tame. Hellcat eventually merged with her given name and she was his “Kitkat.”

Henry shook his head clear and steeled himself, “Kitkat! What brings you here?”
 
 

“I can’t believe you remember that,” She laughed.
 
 

“Of course I do. You never forget a moment of your first love. It seems appropriate now. You’re stunning. Wow!”
 
 

Henry froze, certain that her heart slammed shut the moment he said ‘love.’ It was a hard and fast rule for her. Kit couldn’t handle love.
 
 

Ironically, by way of reply, she flew into his arms kissing him hotly, ardently pressing her slight frame to his and raking her nails down his back. Instinct urged him not to question his good fortune as all reason deserted him, but there had to be more to this picture, more he wasn’t equipped to handle at this hour.
 
 

Henry struggled to extract himself from a hormonal cocktail, feeling as though he were in the vice-grip of something much stronger than himself. After a heated moment locked in passionate embrace, he managed a step back and rummaged his thoughts for a plausible excuse, “Kitkat, this is a very welcome surprise,” he informed her, “but I have company tonight.” He glanced toward the stairs holding his breath.
 
 

She paused, smiling at the nickname he’d given her, and immediately called his bluff. With one eyebrow cocked and eyes sparking challenge, she flatly stated, “Get rid of her.”

Again, Henry wondered if her eyes flashed lethal lightning or promiscuous promise. He loved Kit, always had, but he wasn’t going to hand her this ‘win’ on a silver platter, “Why,” he questioned, feeling every inch the liar he was.
 
 

Kit felt his defenses weakening and stated with calculated deliberation, “Because I’m more.”
 
 

Henry understood what she had shorthanded and knew it to be true. She was more of everything he wanted, needed and desired whether it was best for him or not.
 
 

They were thrown together years ago. She was forever in his heart and he in hers. Their lives were irrevocably entangled. Together they were a force to challenge Heaven though the match may have been the design of hell.
 
 

Without waiting for reply, she marched through the house and into the kitchen. By the time he caught up, she was pouring Coke into glasses and asking where he kept the rum.
 
 

Henry stood behind her smiling, enjoying the sweetest derriere he had ever admired, quite lost in a flood of memories. He could never accuse her of a single dull moment. With his libido barely in-check, he relented, “Okay, I give. Be quiet and I’ll go get rid of her.”
 
 

“’K,” she acknowledged with off-the-cuff nonchalance, as though there hadn’t been another option.
 
 

Henry climbed the stairs pretending to gently remove the fictitious suitor from his bed and escort the figment out the door, then remembered to place a noisy kiss to the back of his hand for effect.
 
 

Kit had perfected her ‘Whistler’s Mother smile’ long ago. Her countenance gave nothing away. Her expression could be infuriatingly ambivalent. On more than one occasion he couldn’t have guessed if she’d just won the lottery or totaled his car.
 
 

Silently, he laughed at himself knowing this was the source of his unease, her unpredictability and capacity to touch him profoundly without physical contact. I should have known, he chided himself, we have always been connected somehow. I’ve always known when she was hurting or when she really needs me.
 
 

Kit broke her silence and his train of thought, “Hi, Henry, I’ve missed you.”
 
 

Her affectionate lilt sent him reeling headlong into his own hard-won defenses, like a wrecking ball into walls it had taken years to erect.
 
 

For half a second, he wondered if she could hear the noises, the explosion of brick and mortar walls built in mind, the racking sobs that rivaled cumulative wailing wall cries, the rending of woven fabric into separation.
 
 

His shredded heart still screaming it’s excruciating pain, the shattering of personal safety, now an illusion that lay in quivering, bloody chunks of self, of labor, heartache and tears, whimpering in the spaces between them with the illusion of safety now thrashing on the floor, dying at her feet …and he wondered, Does she know? Can she feel it, hear it, or is this a one-way connection?
 
 

He swallowed around the enormous lump in his throat and fought for composure, “Hi Kit, how have you been?”
 
 

Henry was well aware that being raised by wolves would have been preferable to the rearing she had received. It was the pink suede elephant perpetually in their personal space. She had spent too many years trying to escape what was done to her in the name of love, family, relationships and obligation.
 
 
He had no doubt that she loved him but was fully conscious of the fact that she had no acceptable definition of it. She had only a few diseased examples for comparison and all of them made her feel sick, trapped, and suffocated. If she couldn’t avoid the feeling, she had certainly stricken the word from conversation.
 
 
“I’m fine. You?”
 
 
“Kit, you always say ‘fine’ when you’re not. What is it?”
 
 
He hadn’t meant to blurt it or care as much as he did, but she was here, and in her presence he was suddenly invested again.
 
 
“You know, just stuff. Life happening.”
 
 
“Yea, I hate it when that happens,” he laughed, trying to lighten the moment.
 
 
“I’ll drink to that,” She quipped, relaxing into the overstuffed couch.
 
 
Jack checked the time already knowing he would never make it to work as expected and there would be no untroubled sleep tonight. He went to replenish their drinks, asking over his shoulder, “How about we have another and we’ll watch your favorite comedy? I can play hooky tomorrow.”
 
 
“Sounds heavenly. It’s okay to crash on the couch?”
 
 
“As long as you don’t mind if I pull out the sofa bed while we do.” Henry held his breath wondering if she had just changed her mind or would change it now and he remembered, Kit can downshift faster than the speed of light.
 
 
With so much of her youth being lost to mental enslavement and emotional blackmail Kit had sought out the only love she could relate to. At eighteen, she left home and became involved with several abusive men.
 
 
Later, she took refuge in a motorcycle gang. They were warm, welcoming, safety in numbers, able and willing to abuse anyone who mistreated one of their own. They ‘had her back.’ Ultimately, they were the family she never had.
 
 
A precious few had been lovers but all afforded her protection; gave her a semblance of stability, shelter and succor. They accepted her unconditionally. She belonged solely to herself and with her chosen family. As long as she owned what was left of her battered mind and body, they were balm to her wounded soul.
 
 
Kit understood love only in that context. She was safe with them. Anything resembling obligation or commitment made her want to run screaming into the night.
 
 
She studied him with an expression that could fill with infinite affection, guileless innocence, or wanton lust, as quickly as she could drop an iron curtain veiling malice, venom and murderous intent.
 
 
Henry risked a timorous guess, testing the waters in making the couch bed into a comfy sanctuary. Kit seemed content, and thankfully, ill-prepared to bolt. He sensed she needed a cozy hideout in a familiar fortress. She came to him for consistency and stability.
 
 
He loved her more than the salvation of his soul, and was wholly convinced now, that she had been a mythical Siren in a past life. She certainly had the capacity to lure him in and leave him in emotional peril with feelings raw and hopes dashed.
 
 
With certainty, he knew they could climb to ecstatic heights of incomparable pleasures founded solely in genuine love, as certainly as he knew she would be gone before he woke.
 
 
He had wanted to give her the world but she already had her world on her terms. What he learned the hard way, and only just realized, is that he wanted to give her his world, on the condition that she share it.
 
 
He would ask her to bend after a lifetime of bending and breaking. His idyllic view of family would be her certain death.
 
 
Finally, he understood and accepted that clinging to her freedom was no more selfish an act than asking her to love him in the fashion he would visit upon her. How could I expect her to conform to my definition of love and family? She comes from her own little war zone; her own personal hell having that exact prerequisite.
 
 
Henry wanted to give her the love she longed for and so obviously needed, but in a flash of understanding, he realized that the most loving thing he could do for her is let her go no matter how many times he would have to. Bikers were her family, and for the foreseeable future, he was her home.
 
 
As they rested spooned together, safe in the night with all other appetites satisfied, her words came back to him, “Because I’m more.” She was absolutely right but wrong. He closed his eyes slipping into sated sleep, whispering, “Because you’re everything.”
 
 
Kit smiled knowingly and closed her weary eyes. With her need of affirmation and acceptance; her ultimate craving finally fulfilled by the only man she ever truly loved, she fell into a more peaceful sleep than she had ever thought possible. She was home.
 
 
By Wildfire8470
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