Dirty Talk Page 10

  My brain zeroes in on the image of her pleasuring herself like I’ve seen so many times already, and my cock jerks in my pants. “Tomorrow night. It’ll have to be late because I’ve got a meeting with a sponsor as well as the show . . . but fuck I need it to be tomorrow.”

  She’s driving me wild, this almost dual nature of Kat as she reaches down, cupping my cock. “I can do tomorrow, I’ll be listening in after work. Call me around ten or so?”

  I nod, reaching up and rubbing a thumb across her stiff nipple. “Ten. Be ready.”

  Kat smiles mysteriously and gives my cock a final caress through my jeans. “Have a good night, Derrick. I know I will.” She says it with a raised eyebrow, obviously teasing me further about just what she’ll be doing tonight.

  She steps back, closing her door and leaving me stunned. It’s not until the brass knocker presses against my chin that I realize I never said goodnight.

  I lean close, whispering loudly through the door, trusting that she’s just on the other side. “Goodnight, Kitty Kat.”

  Chapter 12

  Kat

  “Kat? Earth to Kat?”

  The fog of my daydreams lifts as I realize my sister is calling me, and by the look on her face, she’s been saying my name for a while. We’re taking a long lunch for a family errand, I’m going to work late tonight to make up for it.

  “Sorry, what?”

  Jessie smirks at me, tilting her voice salaciously. “And what, pray tell, are you fantasizing about dear little sister?”

  Blushing, embarrassed at being caught red-handed, I try to divert the attention away from me in any way I can. “Not fantasizing, you horny bitch. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m just daydreaming, thinking about work, and a new project I’m developing.”

  She nods wisely, before rolling her eyes hard enough to let me hear the thunks as they hit the backs of her eye sockets. “A project you’re developing? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Take a hint from an old lady, if he’s a project model, move on. Guys that need work aren’t worth the time. Find a grown up.” She freezes, a look of horror shooting across her face. “Oh god, you’re not talking about Kevin are you? Please say you’re not trying to fix him. Girl, tell me I’m wrong.”

  I flinch back, wondering if Elise and Jessie have been sharing a brain or something. “God no, definitely not Kevin. He’s long gone and I’ve moved on . . . way on.”

  She smiles triumphantly and I realize I walked right into her trap. Dammit, that’s what I get for being the little sister. “So moved on to . . . who? What’s his name?”

  I give in. Besides, I kind of want to tell her anyway. “His name is Derrick, he’s a radio personality. That’s actually how we met, but it’s not serious. We’ve just . . . chatted a bunch, and we had our first official date yesterday. So it’s all super new.”

  I’m relieved when she gloms on to the date part and doesn’t question my stutter as I described our late-night phone proclivities as ‘chatting,’ or to Derrick’s job. I mean, how do I explain to my sister that her nerdy, seemingly straight-laced little sister is dating a sex advice expert?

  “First date?” Jessie asks, leaning far enough forward that she’s invading my personal bubble. “Oh my gosh, so how was it? Are you going to see him again? When?”

  She’s almost jumping up and down in her chair as she lobs questions at me faster than I can answer them. It’s joyful to watch, and I laugh at her excitement, forgetting my nervousness a little. “It was great, yes, and tonight.”

  She squeals, making a sound I haven’t heard since . . . well, since about the time she got that fan form-letter from Justin Timberlake back when she was in high school. “Tonight!!!! Oh, my gawd!”

  As she’s still buzzing, our mom steps out of the dressing room behind Jessie. I’m breathless as I take her in, stunning in a soft ivory floor-length gown covered with lace and beading. Jessie sees my face and whirls around, her jaw dropping in shock too. “Well girls,” Mom asks, “what’s the verdict?”

  “Mom, you look gorgeous,” I tell her truthfully, stepping forward and taking her hands. “Truly. Bob is going to forget his vows when he sees you walking toward him.” I mime a fish mouth opening and closing. “The whole church is going to see him rendered speechless.”

  She laughs lightly, smoothing invisible wrinkles in the dress. “Really? You think it’s all right?”

  Jessie and I look at each other and then back at her, shaking our heads before Jess speaks up. “No, Mom. It’s not all right. It’s amazing.”

  We walk around her, taking in all the little details of the dress while Jessie, who’s always been the fashionista of our little duo, gives a rundown. “It hugs your hips just right, not so tight you can’t sit down, but tight enough to show your curves.”

  I have to chime in something, so I blurt the first thing that comes out of my mouth. “And the girls look va-voom! Thanks for the good genetics there, Mom.”

  Probably not the smoothest line that’s ever been said, but Mom laughs, posing and visibly more confident in her dress. “Thanks, girls. I don’t know what I’d do without you two here for this.”

  Her eyes fill with tears as she pulls us in for a tight three-way hug. After a moment, she giggles, letting go. “Okay, enough of that. You two are going to get makeup on my dress and I can’t have that.”

  We step back, standing behind her as she looks in the mirror at herself, but she seems to be talking to us.

  “I never thought I’d do this again. Your father . . . well, he really did a number on me. You know I don’t like to talk bad about him because he’s your father, and we did have a lot of good years together. But there at the end, it wasn’t pretty. I hope I protected you from most of that.”

  We nod, knowing that she’d done her best, but Jessie and I spent many evenings curled up in the same bed as they’d fought, our mother’s screams and our father’s booming yells the soundtrack more than once. We hugged each other to sleep on too many occasions to be completely fooled by her comfortable lie.

  She never told us, but we knew he’d been cheating, had heard her accusations, his denials, and his eventual admissions but always with some justifying reason why it was Mom’s fault he had to resort to that. Even when she would take him back, we didn’t understand why, but in some ways it was nice . . . at least we had peace and quiet again, and a comfortable normality to things. But it tore us apart.

  It’s why when she finally had had enough and divorced him, we supported her and cut him out of our lives. Dad didn’t understand at first, thinking we didn’t know about his affairs and that Mom had poisoned us against him. The emails and even calls from his lawyer as they dealt with the divorce lasted for months, until Jessie had been the mature one to tell him that we knew, we didn’t approve, and to never contact us again.

  I just avoided the whole confrontation and didn’t return his calls until eventually he stopped calling altogether, much to my relief.

  If I learned anything from my father, it’s that whatever happiness you get . . . it’s just an island in the sea of misery. It can be a big island the size of Antarctica for some . . . for others it’s like a Styrofoam cup floating in the Pacific. And sometimes you don’t know when you’re getting too close to the shoreline, the wave will just crash suddenly and pull you back out with the tide. “Mom, you deserve this. For as long you can have it with Bob, enjoy every moment.”

  I mean it to sound loving and supportive, it’s not her fault or mine that we tend to be Styrofoam cups, but she hears the bitterness. She turns around, and comes over to hug me. “Kat, I know you don’t understand this . . . but I would happily take one blissful day with Bob over a lifetime alone. It’s not a risk to love him and let him love me. It’s a gift, one that I am blessed to have for as many days as we get. Sure, maybe one day it’ll explode and I’ll cry in devastation. But even then, the days of joy will be worth the pain. Even as bad as it got with your father, we had a lovely life for a long time and he gav
e me the two best gifts of my life, you two girls. So yeah, I’ll take this happiness for as long as I can have it, without bitterness or cynicism.”

  I’m taken aback, my mom’s words hitting rather close to home. I am bitter and cynical. And she’s right, because Bob really is a good guy who wants to make her happy.

  He didn’t have to ask her to marry him, I know. After his first wife died of cancer, he could have just been a rather well-to-do older bachelor. Mom would have been happy just dating him exclusively, I know it. She never asked for his support, and didn’t need it after she made her way successfully after the divorce. Neither of them needed the other, they just wanted to be together, forever. So when he dropped to a knee on Valentine’s Day and asked her to marry him . . . it was totally legit and love-filled. Even since then, he’s been great while they plan their second weddings as if they were kids doing it for the first time. There’s no reason I should doubt him.

  Unfortunately, it’s not just my dad’s influence. I’ve had a run-in or two myself.

  The good memories with them definitely don’t outweigh the bad endings. Kevin was, if anything, one of the longer ‘islands’ in my history. Some of us just aren’t destined for happily ever afters. Or even happy for nows.

  Jessie pipes up, ever the optimist. “Maybe this new guy, Derrick, will be the one . . . tonight!”

  I turn to Jess, ready to go claws and hissing on her, but Mom smiles. “Tonight? Do you have a date? Is that what Jessie’s caterwauling about?”

  I try to smile back, but the thought of having a bad ending with Derrick is already pressing on my heart. The fact is, despite whatever guards I’ve put up about Derrick, I like him already. A lot. We’re barely started in whatever this is, but I already know it’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch when it ends.

  It’s not just the sex, or the fact that he pushes me just enough that I feel like I’m stepping outside my comfort zone without feeling like I just got chucked out of an airplane with no parachute. It’s in the way he looks at me, the way he talks with me when we’re not being dirty . . . even the fact he spent hours last night hanging out while I helped Elise through her latest drama, and did it without a single complaint.

  Derrick . . . god he’s everything I could ask for. So hot I find myself thinking of him and wondering if I could run to the bathroom at work to send him a quick naughty video, intelligent and perceptive, and even gentlemanly in a lot of ways. If telling a woman you want to fuck her until she passes out from so many orgasms can be called gentlemanly, Derrick’s figured out how.

  But that’s what’s scaring the shit out of me . . . every high has to be met with an equal low. Locking a forced excitement to my face, I tell my mom the same thing I told Jessie about it being our second date but we’ve been talking for a few weeks. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

  Mom rolls her eyes, refusing to be put off. “No big deal? This is so exciting! New potential, new stories, the anticipation of liking each other and falling in love.”

  She hugs me, forgetting her earlier concerns about getting makeup on her wedding gown, and I just smile and nod back. Maybe Mom is getting her big island of happiness again, but I’m still last week’s floating Styrofoam cup. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  Chapter 13

  Derrick

  “I really think tonight’s sponsor should be ChapStick or something,” I joke, glancing again at the pre-show sheet. “I mean . . . blowjobs? They actually approved that one?”

  “Well, there was a few requirements,” Susannah says, smiling. She’s been a lot nicer today than the past couple of days. I dunno, maybe whatever was biting her ass has worked itself out, or maybe she just realized being pissed wasn’t doing us any favors.

  “What’s that?” I ask, sipping my water and already thinking to tonight. Kat . . . blowjobs . . . Kat’s blowjobs . . . fuck, I’m hard again. “Sorry, one more time?”

  “I said, they want us to do a series of shows on oral sex,” Susannah says, looking at her clipboard.

  I groan. “Sounds like we’re going to be fielding a lot of callers to fill all that time.”

  “We’ll make it work like usual,” she replies. “You ready?”

  “Five minutes,” I reply. “Just want to make sure . . . well, no early bathroom breaks.”

  I rush to the bathroom, pulling my phone out of my pocket as soon as I’m in the stall. Thinking of u.

  Oh? What’s tonight’s show?

  I smirk, wondering if I should tell the truth or not. You’ll just have to listen and find out. See you tonight.

  I do try to force out whatever’s inside, but no dice. Still, I flush and get to the studio just in time to plop down in my chair. The entry music starts, and I lean into my mic just as Suz gives me a thumbs up. “Good evening, listeners! This is Derrick King, the Love Whisperer, welcoming you to the next three hours of advice, music, and a little bit of fun. With me, of course, is my right-hand woman, Susannah ‘Don’t Call Her Jenna’ Jameson.”

  “Tonight’s show is about a subject that, well, let’s just say it’s near and dear to my heart.”

  “I didn’t know your heart was next to your balls,” Susannah jokes, and I have to grin, that was a good one.

  “Well, let’s just say I’ve thought about this subject a lot. You want to have the honor of telling our audience what we’ll be discussing?”

  “Sure, D. Tonight, let’s talk fellatio. Blowjobs, knob slobbing, or sucking cock. Take your pick. If it involves dicks and lips, we’re gonna talk about it tonight.”

  “Hell of an intro. I always liked the term blowjob myself,” I admit. “By the way, if blowjobs aren’t your thing, don’t worry folks, we’re having a show on licking pussy too. But for now, you know the deal. Give us a call, drop us an email, the lines are open. First, let’s go to an email. Suz, will you start us off?”

  “Love to,” Susannah says, lowering her voice to a sultry purr to set the tone. She’s got a great range of voices, from shrill to sexy. I guess that’s why she’s working in this business. “Dear Love Whisperer, I’ve got a problem. You see, my boyfriend wants me to blow him, but I struggle with it. Am I doing it right? Is he gonna choke me? What about when he comes . . . what do I do? His birthday is coming up, and I’d love to give him this gift. See if I can make it happen for him. Advice? From Kitty.”

  Kitty? Great, just fucking awesome. I’m trying to work, and all I can think of is Kat crawling across the floor like a kitten, her lips stretched wide around my cock, balls deep in her mouth. Shit. Focus, I gotta be a pro here. “Well, Kitty,” I husk, licking my lips before I can continue, “first off, I’d like to say you’re quite the girlfriend if you’re worried about this. For a lot of guys, blowjobs tend to consist of a little begging, some half-hearted licks, and then it’s time to move on.”

  “Not me,” Susannah teases, and I give her a raised eyebrow. She normally doesn’t get this expressive, maybe she’s just really into it tonight. “I love feeling my man slide over my tongue.”

  “That’s the thing,” I add in. “Kitty, there’s two main ingredients to a good blowjob. One, you have to really devote yourself to it. Don’t just do it because you think he’ll like it, you have to suck him off because you want to. Show some excitement about it because it’s supposed to sexy and fun! Second, pay attention to what he likes. Does he want it hard, lots of tongue action, deep throating, hands involved or not involved? Maybe some ball play or even a little bit of anal play. Pay attention to what he likes, and then when you find out, give it to him and don’t hold back.”

  “So Derrick, what do you like?” Susannah asks, a gossipy tone to her voice. “I’m sure our listeners would love to know your hottest desires . . . fast and rough, teasing little sucks, maybe the grapefruit trick I’ve been hearing about?”

  I purse my lips, thinking, and all I can see is Kat. My cock throbs in my pants, and I smirk before answering. “I’m gonna be honest, I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a bad blowjob. Unless there’s teeth
,” I say, a shudder of fear snaking through my body. “But I’m sure some guys are into that too. But I’d advise on a Q-and-A before going that route, ladies. But let’s just say that I’m loving what I’m getting.”

  “Oh, he must be good then,” Susannah shoots back, a little cattier than I expected, but before I can say anything she gives a big laugh. “All right, let’s try a caller. Go ahead, Eric.”

  I don’t have time to ask Suz what the fuck was up with that crack because I’ve gotta help this caller. “Yeah, uh first thing, big fan Derrick, you’ve helped me a lot with my girl. Big props to you.”

  “Thanks Eric. What can I help you with tonight?”

  “Well, how can I convince my girl that swallowing isn’t deadly? I swear every time she goes down on me it’s either she pulls off in time for me to blow on her face, or she starts spitting like a garden sprinkler. But I really, really want to see her take a mouthful and swallow it down, know what I mean?”

  “I do, it’s a pretty common thing for a lot of guys,” I reply, trying to pull my thoughts together. “At the same time, a lot of women don’t like it. Some of it is cultural or demographic, they’ve been taught that cum is somehow dirty or gross. Spitting can feel like they’re rejecting you on some level, and swallowing seems sexy, like they’re taking a part of you into themselves.” I pause. Susannah raises a hand at me, and I segue to include her, “Susannah, what’s your take?”

  She smiles, her eyes glinting with naughtiness, “So many thoughts. From the woman’s perspective, there’s a point of gag where nothing’s going to stop your body’s natural reaction. The trick is to get behind the gag or in front of it. She needs to take you deeper down her throat so that when you come, it goes down easier. Or, maybe compromise and stay in front of the gag, come into her open mouth, get the visual of her with a mouthful and then she swallows like a good girl without the pressure of you continuing to fuck her face at the same time.”