He reached out, snagging a stray strand of my hair and began twirling it around his fingers. "Your hair is stunnin.' You stood out like a beacon that night at Bougainvillea. It was hard to concentrate on the set when all I wanted to do was stare at you."

"Seriously?"

"Mmhmm," he replied softly. "You were the prettiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on, Baby Girl. You still are."

I stared at the empty take-out boxes as I told him, "That's how I felt about you the first time I ever saw you. When you came out on the stage at the music festival...it was weird. It was like the rest of the world no longer existed for me. And when I heard your voice..."

"What?" he asked, his tone husky and thick with emotion.

I felt myself blush. "It touched my soul. It's the sound my soul listens to more than any other."

He let go of my hair and gently rested his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. With his other hand, Phil tipped my face to his with soft pressure from his fingertips beneath my chin, then pressed his lips to mine. It started out light and sweet, but the undercurrent of raw lust we possessed for each other surged to the surface, and the kiss quickly turned scorching.

As if I weighed nothing, he lifted me to straddle his hips, his mouth never surrendering mine. His hands slipped around to grab my ass, grinding me against his swelling cock. The friction of it robbed me of breath, making the pressure that had been simmering between my legs all day-fuck that, for six years-increase into a poignant ache.

I unleashed my inner porn star and moaned into his open mouth. In response, he thrust his hips up and pulled me against him again.

"I'm dyin' to make you come," his voice rasped. "I've dreamed about what you'd look like when you do. I fuckin' want to hear it, see it on your face..."

Hearing that made my nipples harden painfully, and the heavy throbbing built up deep inside. Pushing me onto my back, he settled between my legs, grinding into me hard. I arched up against him, wrapping my legs around his narrow waist, pulling him into the ache. His hands slipped through my hair, pulling back my head to press soft wet kisses along my jaw, the column of my throat, and back to my mouth. One of his hands then snuck up under my shirt, under my bra, and palmed a breast and squeezed before plucking at the nipple, making it spike.

"Let me make you come," he begged, his lips against my ear. He rimmed the shell of it with his tongue. "I need to make you come."

"Yes..." There was no way I could say no. I wasn't even thinking with my brain. My vagina reigned supreme with that decision.

Rolling his body to one side, he moved the hand on my breast and slid down my torso to the waistband of my shorts. He popped the button and fly with amazing quickness and finesse, and I didn't want to know how he'd gotten to be so deft at that. Then, his fingers slipped under my panties.

"Holy fuck," he breathed, the air of it caressing over my temple. "You're so wet," he groaned.

I so was embarrassingly wet. I'd soaked through my underwear already, and I couldn't really care. It was all his fault anyway.

Dying to feel him, too, I wanted him in my hands-at the very, very least. He was as hot and bothered for me as I was for him. I tugged at his belt buckle until he took pity on me and helped. Finally open, I snuck my hand down the front of his pants.

"Fuck." Air hissed through his clenched teeth when my hand made contact with him.

"Oh, wow," I blurted, my eyes bulging.

Phil was huge, not just in proportion to his size. He was in proportion and then some. My fingers didn't touch as I curled my fist around him. In awe, I stroked him down. Stroking up, I knew he had to be at least nine inches, probably more, in length. When I reached the head, I realized he was not circumcised, and it felt like a massive oozing mushroom cap, a ridiculous amount of pre-cum squeezing out of the tip.

Swallowing thickly, I whispered, "You feel a bit wet, too."

His mouth was mere millimeters from mine, his panting breaths fanning my face. "You're gonna make me come stupid quick."

His fingers slipped between my wet folds before he glided his long middle finger into me. Grinding the heel of his hand against my clit, he slipped another finger in.

"You make it too easy," he said.

"It's your fault," I whispered back.

"I can't fuckin' wait until this is wrapped around my dick," he told me. "You feel so amazin', Baby Girl. I just wanna fuck you with everythin' I got."

"Yeah..." I breathed, not really thinking. I was just feeling the excitement his words and voice created inside me.

With a groan, he slammed his mouth on mine while working his hand between my legs with serious expertise. I wanted him to come just as badly, so I squeezed and slowly pumped him from tip to root and back.

"Phil..." I moaned, feeling so close. Clenching his fingers so tight, I was building and building and building until I imploded on his hand, convulsing hard. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, and I let out a sobbing sweet cry.

My hand started to loosen its grip on him due to the powerful orgasm that had just ripped its way through me, rendering me into jelly.

"Don't stop!" he barked at me.

Mindless, I continued to pump him for just a few more seconds before he turned his head into the pillow beneath us and let out a muffled mighty roar. His cock swelled to epic proportions, pulsing as he spurted heavily under his pants and all over my fist.

"I don't...fuckin'...believe it," he said, gasping for breath.

"Wh-what?" I asked shakily.

He swallowed thickly and sucked in a deep breath. "That was the best orgasm of my life, and it was from a hand job."

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, which only made my snort that much louder. I couldn't help it after that. I busted out in deep-belly rumbling laughter. I was so fucking happy that I felt high.

He slowly removed his hand out from my shorts and raised it up to his mouth, sticking his fingers inside and slowly drawing them out. "You taste fuckin' awesome. That's gonna be next, I think."

That was the hottest thing I'd ever seen. It was so blatantly erotic that it made my crotch throb in reflex.

"Um...there's a lot of, uh..." Shit, I can't even think straight.

He took the bottom of his shirt and held it out, so when I pulled my hand out, he wiped it up without getting any of it on the rest of us.

"I'm gonna go change," he softly told me, "before this shit dries up and sticks to me."

We sat up, and I could feel how sloppy I was between my thighs. He sweetly kissed me and managed to get on his feet.

"I'm going to head home," I said gently.

He whipped around to face me. "The fuck you are!"

I nodded. "I need to clean up, too. I..."

He looked ready to kick some ass. "Shower here."

"I need clean clothes."

"You can wear something of mine-"

"I'm going home, Phil. I'm all gross and-"

"Gross?" He snarled.

"Well, yeah. It's not comfortable having a swamp in my crotch."

His nostrils flared. "I want you to stay."

I sighed. "And I want clean underwear."

"Are you coming back?"

"I'll come back in the morning, if you want."

"I want you to stay the night."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. "Do whatever the fuck you want then," he said. Then, he about-faced and headed up the stairs.

Yeah, he's a total asshole, I thought miserably.

My happiness dashed to hell in an instant, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door that led to the side of the house. My heart felt tight and painful as I quietly made my way to Gretchen.

What a complete brat! He turns into such a shit when he doesn't get what he wants right when he wants it. Doesn't he realize I'm trying to do what's right here? We haven't even been together a full twenty-four hours! He said he wanted to do this right!

Whatever.

If he wanted to pitch a little hissy fit, he could do it alone. I wasn't some groupie to do his bidding. I had to respect myself first if I expected him to respect me, no matter how badly I wanted to rip off his clothes and do all sorts of nasty things to that monster between his legs.

Shit.

Phil It took me a few minutes to realize that I had just seriously fucked up. Fuming in my bedroom, tearing off my sticky clothes, I could see her face so clearly in my mind-gentle, quiet, trying to reason with me...the bruised look when I'd basically told her to fuck off.

"Fuck!" I yelled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

All she'd wanted to do was go home and clean herself up. She'd said she'd come back in the morning.

What the fuck was the big deal? So what if we just got each other off-fuck, that had been awesome-and she'd decided to bail? How many times have I done that to someone myself?

Fuckin' A! I'm the fuckin' chick in this relationship!

And just like a chick, I grabbed my phone and called her. My heart was in my throat, and my head was a hot fuckin' mess.

How could I treat her like that?

She wasn't some stupid bitch. She was my Baby Girl.

Yeah, well, after that fuckin' stunt, she might not want to be anymore.

With that thought, I started shaking, panic coursing through me.

Don't fuckin' think that. She didn't waste six fuckin' years waitin' for your ass, only to give up because you're a fuckin' douche canoe.

But maybe that was exactly what she was thinking 'cause she sure as fuck wasn't answering her phone.

Kenna By the time I pulled into the driveway, my phone was blowing up.

He's nuts! I'm not answering it. He can go to hell!

Alys's car wasn't here, and there were no lights on inside the house. I was actually glad to be alone because I really needed to think this one through.

My phone just would not shut up, so I dug it out of my bag. I felt a self-righteous wave of satisfaction when I saw Your Phil, and I switched off the sound.

Stomping up the steps to the front door and shoving the key in the lock, I wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind me. Thundering up the stairs to my bedroom, I slammed that door shut, too. Stripping out of my clothes, I hopped into the shower and scrubbed myself a little more vigorously than normal.

"Bastard," I hissed under my breath. "Who the hell does he think he is? Getting pissed at me because I wanted to go home."

Finishing my shower quickly, I toweled off and stomped into my bedroom, still very much pissed off.

I had tossed my phone on my bed when I came in, and I could see the light going off as he kept calling me. Oddly, I was experiencing stabbing pangs of guilt, so I quickly got dressed in some baggy cargo pants and a tank top to take my mind off of it. Lying down on the bed, I pulled out a spliff and lit it up. After a few drags, the screen on my phone lit up again, and I snapped it open.

"Yeah?" I barked, my voice chocked full of irritation.

He sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I am. I was a complete-"

"Asshole," I stated.

"That, too."

"I don't deserve to be treated like that because you're not getting what you want," I vented. "I'm not getting what I want either. We said we'd do this right. That means taking our time, getting to know one another, and not fucking each other like a couple of sluts."

"I know, Kenna-"

"Do you?" I snapped. I took a drag. "I get it. You're used to having women throw themselves at you-"

"It's not about that," he snapped right back. "I want to be with you-all the time! When you're not around, it feels..." He swallowed loudly. "It feels as though I can't fuckin' breathe right. I've wanted to be with you for so long that just being in the same room with you is enough to make me happy. If I can look up and see you and hear you and touch you, then I know that this is real and not just another dream."

Well, damn. I never considered it like that.

"I'm fuckin' terrified," he said softly. That simple confession sounded slightly tortured. "I'm so scared that I'll wake up tomorrow and find all this has been the greatest dream I've ever had. I don't think I could handle that."

"It's not a dream," I said quietly. "And I'm scared, too. I'm scared you'll wake up and realize that I'm really nothing special, that I'll never live up to this ideal you have of me in your head. I'm terrified that you'll see me as just one of the legions that you've had before-"

"How the fu-" He was so pissed that he was choking on his own words.

Shit.

"How can you even fuckin'-"