Ride of Your Life

One Text Away

I sighed in frustration. This was the third store I'd stopped at, still no luck finding AA batteries. I was desperate at this point. My battery operated boyfriend was barely doing the job as it was, but now with no batteries, I knew it was hopeless. I felt like my skin was too tight. I was twitchy, and cranky, and so wound up I could barely focus. I drove home and dropped onto the couch with a groan. I was so frustrated I could cry. "That's it! I can't take it anymore!" I yelled to my empty living room. Grabbing my phone, I sent a text that I might regret later.

Bailey: I know I said we had to stop doing this. But... One last time? Please?

I didn't have to wait long for a response.

BG: Bus will be rolling in around 9:00. I'll be there for 10:00.

I sighed, 10:00 seemed so far away. But it was perfect. My son would be asleep by then, and I wouldn't have to worry about him seeing Brantley drop in for a booty call. Keeping myself busy was proving to be difficult. I couldn't stop thinking about what was to come later this evening. I knew that I would probably regret texting Brantley, but that would be a problem for tomorrow. He was the habit I just couldn't quit. The thought of his hands on my body had me panting. The things that man could do...

10:00 pm

The knock on the door at exactly 10:00 startled me, even though I knew it was coming. I opened the door before I could chicken out, and I nearly wept in relief at the man standing at my door. Brantley leaned against the doorframe, looking like a booktok fantasy come to life. He was in dark grey sweats, with an old Georgia Bulldogs tshirt, sleeves ripped off. That black hat pulled low over his eyes. I stepped back and he sauntered inside. "So what's got you so twisted, girl?" Brantley chuckled, tugging me towards him by the waist of my shorts. I whined and went up on tiptoe for a kiss, huffing when he smirked arrogantly at me. "Fine. If you're gonna be mean you can just leave!" I stomped my foot and pulled away from him. I heard him growl, and then he snatched me off my feet. Locking his mouth to mine as I dangled there in his arms. My toes curled. This. This is what I needed. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I tugged on his beard impatiently. Brantley chuckled and walked us to the couch, sitting down and keeping me in his lap. My knees spread wide on either side of his hips.  I rocked against him, grinding against the solid length of him. We stripped in record time, and I was absolutely feral for this man. Brantley moved to his knees on the floor, and planted my ass on the couch. I knew what was coming. "Oh!" I panted in anticipation, my hips wiggling impatiently. "What's wrong? You want my mouth, darlin?" Brantley chuckled. I nodded rapidly. He leaned backwards and smirked. "Aht aht. Use your words. Gotta ask for what you want." He grinned darkly. I shivered when he licked his lips. "Brantleeeyyyyy. Please?" I whined. "Please what? Tell me what you want, and be specific." He answered. I pouted. "Please eat my pussy. Need your mouth, B. I need to come so bad that it hurts." I sat up quickly and kissed him. Putting into his mouth as I kept talking. "Wanna feel your tongue running circles all over my pussy." I panted. Brantley rumbled appreciatively. "That's a good girl." Brantley grinned darkly, before flattening my torso on the couch. "And good little girls always get what they ask for." He growled and ran his tongue between my legs. I bit my lip to stay quiet as Brantley gave me exactly what I asked for. Three orgasms later, Brantley sat up, his green eyes burning bright with lust. I couldn't stand not having him inside me for another second. Lowering my legs, I slid down into his lap, impaling myself on his length. My eyes rolled up into my skull and my entire body trembled. We spent the remainder of the night fucking like teenagers, trying not to get caught.

The rays of sunlight coming through the curtains woke me up. I blinked slowly, trying to get my bearings. Brantley and I were curled up on the couch. Shit, we must've fallen asleep. Before I could wake him up to get him to leave before my son woke up, I heard a snort. Looking over the back of the couch, a pair of familiar green eyes were twinkling mischievously. My eyes widened when Brantley stirred beneath me, stretching with a groan. I whipped my head around to shh him, even though we'd already been caught red-handed. My teenager laughed out loud then. Before I could say anything, my son decided to speak up. "Mornin Dad, we still going to the mud hole today?" He asked with a grin. "If your mama doesn't strangle you, we are." Brantley snorted. I sighed in exasperation. "It's way past time you two had a sleepover. Man, mom's been real cranky lately. Thanks for working that out for me, Pops." The 16 year old cackled. "Ryker Kieth!" I exclaimed, and launched a couch pillow at my son. Brantley exploded into laughter from his position on the couch. "What?? It's the truth! You two might as well get back together. You sneak around and hook up like I don't notice. Then you stop for a while. Mom gets all stressed and cranky. Dad comes over, then mom's all smiles and giggles." Ryker shrugged nonchalantly. "You really are your father's child." I rolled my eyes. "Copy and paste, sugar. Wanna make another one?" Brantley wiggled his eyebrows at me and rubbed my stomach. I swatted his hand away, and stomped off towards my bedroom. "Ugh! Men!" I griped, still wearing B's Tshirt. "Think mom will go for having another baby? I wouldn't mind a little brother." I heard my son ask Brantley. "She might. If you'd quit antagonizing her, jackass." Brantley snorted. I heard the thunk, and I already knew B had smacked Ryker behind the head. I chuckled to myself. I might not regret texting Brantley after all. Not that I'd ever let either of them know it, but maybe another baby wouldn't be such a bad thing. Who knows, we might luck up and have a daughter this time. Wouldn't that be karma for those two? I smiled to myself, listening to my boys bantering back and forth in the kitchen. Regardless of the mortifying start to my morning, my son was right. It was past time for B to come home. It was past time for our family to be together again.