Free Untamed : An Erotic Romance Story by Lucy Scott Page B

simple hello-how-have-you-been-fine-and-you? intercourse shared by former lovers turned into uneasy friends.
     
    Even though we were both Gen Xers, and the country elected a Black president, a woman named Molly with Westside Irish roots doesn't marry a man named Antoine whose grandfather took the train here from Clarksdale, Mississippi after World War II, not if she wants to keep her family cool, but then again, Antoine never even asked. He took a job as an IT troubleshooter, travelling across the country for weeks at a time. I was his Comic Con fling, not that he ever promised me anything more, or wasn't a perfect gentleman, aside from the way he spun my body atop that cock of his and "talked shit" to me as he did. Can you imagine his big Black cock stretching my pussy to its limit, riding that shaft up and down and down and up, oh my god, how he filled me.
     
    This is where my mind was wandering, when Edward James Edwards II, as he so regally signs his name, interrupted me, in the midst of riding Antoine's cock and composing my latest masterpiece, Lubricity and other Properties of Powdered Metal Coatings, which I could have easily sub-titled The Effect of Antoine's Cock Inside My Quivering Quim, me loving the language of naughty Victorians.
     
    "We've decided to hold a team-building encounter this Saturday."
     
    Without adding and we hope you can make it. One simple declarative sentence, another something that I had to swallow, because the economy sucks and EJE gets hundreds of resumes every month from English majors working as baristas and parking lot attendants, which is also why I haven't gotten a raise in five years, since any one of those poor, underemployed Gen Y's would gladly take my job for half of what I make. We already have two interns working forty hour weeks with zero chance of being hired, just so they can put EJE on their resume.
     
    "Where?" was my best and only response.
     
    "Good show, Moll, that's being a team player, the Marriott in Lincolnshire."
     
    I hate it when he calls me Moll, as if I were some monosyllabic thing to be done with as he pleased, and Lincolnshire meant that I would have to rent a car, or beg for a ride, or ask my mother for her car, or take two trains and a cab, another one of those little tensions that make me want to scream "fuck-you", but I contained myself as Caleb and his temperamental silver Jetta sprang to mind, a simple little manipulation, proving that nice guys don't finish last, they get hand jobs.
     
    ———
     
    "My car?"
     
    It wasn't fair, I know, I mean he was so vulnerable with his pants and jockeys down around his knees, and me fully clothed,  because I didn't want his tongue to say hello to my monthly, little friend.
     
    "Just for a day." I didn't think that it was going to bother him that much. All he ever did was bake, play Halo, and then bake himself to sleep with a well-rolled spliff.
     
    "It's just that the fuel injector is acting weird and I won't have time to get it fixed."
     
    "It's Lincolnshire, not Cucamonga."
     
    "Cucamonga?"
     
    "An exaggeration to demonstrate how close Lincolnshire is." He was high, as usual, and I liked to play little mind games with him as I stroked his cute cock,  yes cute, I must confess, all four inches of it, curved and throbbing in my right hand as I continued to stroke. I held my little girl voice in reserve.
     
    "I have a second cousin there, that's all, so it's like weird that you would pick a town where I had a cousin."
     
    "Yes, the cousin you play Halo with all the time, like duh. So, can I have it?"
     
    "Have what?"
     
    "Your car." I squeezed his cock in deft, sure movements and he groaned with his eyes closed instead of answering.
     
    "Caleb?"
     
    "What if it dies while you're on the expressway, you could be seriously hurt, not to mention the silver diva." He treated his Jetta as if it were a soprano at The Met.
     
    "I'll take surface streets all the way."
     
    "Jesus, that will take you a long