Paris peered over her sunglasses and took in Tom’s seedy appearance. The heavy eyes, tousled hair and dark stubble that shadowed the ridge of his jaw could lead to only one conclusion – he hadn’t been home last night. Her lips pursed as she blew the foam from her cappuccino. “And you’re late. Again.” A small burst of air raised a chestnut curl from in front of hazel eyes as she huffed her displeasure.
Tom looked down at his wrinkled shirt. “Just rolled outta bed,” he drawled as he tucked the crumpled linen of his shirt back into his slacks. His slow, crooked grin revealed a devilish face full of mischief as he leant across the table to kiss her cheek.
“Oh god, don’t kiss me,” she grumbled. “I don’t know where those lips have been.” Paris made a show of wiping her cheek with her napkin as she leant back into her chair. “So, whose bed did you sneak out of this morning? Lisa, Amanda? Oh god, please, tell me it wasn’t Vanessa the Undressa?” Paris laughed mockingly, “I still can’t believe, that woman, had the gall to break into your house last week in nothing but a coat and heels!”
“She isn’t the first woman to do that, you know,” Tom smirked, “But, she is the first to do it in front of my entire family.” Tom grimaced slightly as he heard again his mother’s gasp of shock and saw her horrified face as his entire family watched Vanessa spray whipped cream over her smooth snatch and sing out ‘Happy Birthday, baby’.
“I think the chocolate coated nipples were a bit of an over kill though. Don’t you?” Paris bit her lip, a useless gesture as her lips twitched anyway.
“It’s not like I invited her, you know,” he grumbled.
“Oh god, I almost wet myself…”
Tom leant forward, interrupting, “Oh yeah, interesting,” he whispered. “I always knew under that sweet, girl next door smile, you were a kinky biatch.” He watched her with a leer.
Eyes rolling skyward, Paris shot Tom a cutting smile. “You can’t tell me lines like that actually work?”
A grin flittered at the corners of his lips as he slouched back into his chair. “Sometimes,” he grinned cockily. ”So, tell me, why the wet panties then?”
Paris shot him a filthy look before a small smile tugged at her lips. “It was the way your mum kept mumbling, brazen hussy, under her breath. Who says that?” giggled Paris. “I swear I thought she was going to throw Vanessa out butt naked onto the street.”
Tom chuckled, “Oh yeah? Now that’s something I’d have payed to see.” Tom grinned, the image of his tiny mother manhandling anyone, let alone a naked woman with chocolate nipples and a creamy snatch, made him laugh. “I sort of thought that the cherry positioned atop her pussy held a certain appeal, didn’t you?”
Tom’s grin was contagious and had Paris smiling. Her eyes rolled dramatically while an evil grin caught and played at the corners of her twitching lips.
Tom grimaced, “This is going to haunt me forever, isn’t it?”
Paris met Tom’s pained face with laughing eyes. “Probably. Actually,” she mused, leaning forward on her elbows, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat cherries again thanks to that woman.”
Tom snorted and his eyebrows wobbled ridiculously. “Now that’s where we differ, I can’t get me enough cherry pie. Add a little dollop of cream and hmm,” he grunted in pleasure, the sound resembling the ecstatic snuffling of a warthog rooting around in mud. “In fact, had me some cherry pie for breakfast,” Tom hummed as he lewdly smacked his lips.
Paris screwed up her napkin and hurled it at her best friend. “Yuck, you’re so gross sometimes! I don’t know why I put up with you. And it’s, I had some, not, had me some.”
Tom threw an arm around the back of her chair; a mocking smile etched deep grooves into his cheeks as he chuckled, “You’re just jealous that Mr… what’s his name… Jack, Jake, Jase?”
“Jason,” snarled Paris.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re just jealous that Jase never made you a banana split sundae with cream and nuts.” Tom smirked and Paris found herself almost smiling at Tom’s lame humour. Her gaze followed Tom’s hand as he idly summoned the waitress from inside the small café.
A single brow swiftly arched upward as she watched two waitress’ bustle through the door, each trying to out manoeuvre the other. The short, buxom blonde played dirty; with a dig of an elbow and flick of her curvy hips, she sent the slighter built redhead careering into an empty table.
“What can I do for you?” the breathless waitress cooed as her fingers traced the plunging vee of her shirt, blatantly drawing attention to the quivering globes that threatened to erupt from her shirt at any moment.
Tom’s dark eyes stroked the length of the woman’s body, lingering on the ample rise of her breasts. His deep voice rumbled softly as he leant forward and peered at her name tag. “I can think of any number of things…Tiffany.”
“Oh, for god’s sake!” Paris snorted softly. The slight emphasis on do made Paris want to gag and she kicked Tom’s shin under the table as she watched him almost drool down the woman’s chest.
“I’m going. I’ll catch you tomorrow?” Her lip curled slightly and she shook her head, shooting her chair backwards as she swung her way into the café to pay her bill. Slipping through the door she decided to duck into the ladies first.
::~:::~::
Paris wiggled her jeans back over her hips, a disgusted sigh whistled between her teeth as she sucked her belly in. “Damn pants must be shrinking,” she muttered under her breath. She grimaced slightly as she drew in a breath and the button slid into place.
A door slammed and girlish voices broke the silence as Paris slowly adjusted her belt buckle, resisting the temptation to slip the buckle out another notch. “Oh. My. God, Tiffany. I can’t believe that you, like, just shoved me into that table. It’s like, sooo totes embarrassment!” the whiney voice echoed throughout the bathroom.
“Well, Tom was waving to me, Amber. Sooo, really it your own fault, you shouldn’t have tried to hone in on him.” Paris assumed the smug voice belonged to the buxom Tiffany and rolled her eyes at the possessive tone. Poor girl was delusional
“He’s just sooo totally gorgeous, don’t you think? Those dark eyes,” a heartfelt sigh accompanied Tiffany’s statement. “OMG, when he smiled, that dimple! I swear I totally creamed my panties!”
Paris’s nose wrinkled in disgust and she mouthed a silent ‘eww’ as she paused to listen in to the girl’s conversation.
“You’re so lucky,” whispered Amber, envy making the words heavy as she sighed dejectedly. “Did he, like, ask you out?”
“No, not yet, but I just know once that stuck up bitch he’s with leaves, he totally will.”
‘Stuck up bitch!’ mouthed Paris, her eyes narrowing into slits as she hissed under breath.
The voices slammed to a halt as the door creaked open once more. Startled giggles came from both the girls.
“Tom!” they both screeched, sotto voiced. “You can’t come in here.”
“Sure I can,” was his confident return. “See, I’m already in.”
Paris, her face pressed to the crack in the door, watched as Tom winked at the girls. ‘Such a cheesy bastard,’ she thought, ‘but damn if those two air heads aren’t falling for it, hook, line and sinker.’
“Amber, sweetheart, do me a favour would you? Stand watch for a moment, there’s something Tiff and I need to talk about,” Tom smiled as he gently tucked a strand of red hair back behind Amber’s ear.
“Sure, I can do that for you,” giggled Amber and shot a conspiratorial smile Tiffany’s way as she walked behind Tom’s back.
Paris hesitated. Curiosity burned in her gut and smothered that little voice that screamed at her to leave. Was her best friend as good as all the whispered giggles implied?
“Finally,” rumbled Tom as he slowly stalked the quivering blonde. “I’ve wanted to get you alone the minute I saw you. Come here, girl.”
Paris rolled her eyes heavenward at the lame line but it didn’t stop her from watching Tom as he wrenched Tiffany by her ponytail into his arms. Paris’ eyes grew round as saucers as she watched Tom seduce the curvaceous waitress.
His fists gripped either side of Tiffany’s shirt and yanked apart the flimsy material, his rough manhandling shot buttons in every direction. “Beautiful,” he whispered as he slowly prowled forward, backing a gasping Tiffany up against the counter.
Paris glanced down rather ruefully at her own small handfuls and wondered what he’d say if it was her pressed naked up against his chest. Paris shook her head in disgust, ‘Where the hell had that thought come from?’
With a compulsion she couldn’t ignore, Paris’ eyes strayed once more to Tom. He’d kept Tiffany’s hands confined in the remains of her ruined shirt and had them locked in one hand behind her back, which caused her breasts to thrust upwards and her nipples to protrude through the lace cup of her bra.
Tom leant forward; his mouth hovered only centimetres form the woman’s flesh, allowing his heated breath to raise goose bumps across her chilled skin. His dark eyes maintained constant contact with the panting blonde as his teeth plucked the turgid peaks through the lace. When his tongue gently lapped against the straining tips, Tiffany sobbed quietly; her back bowed over his arm which forced the pale flesh deeper into the heat of Tom’s mouth. A moment later sharp teeth began to tug at the glistening nubs and Paris felt her knees buckle in sympathy at the startled yelp of pain that slipped from Tiffany’s slack lips.
Hot sighs and Tiffany’s melting whimpers of pleasure reached Paris’ ears through the flimsy ply of the door, making her blush. ‘This is my Tom, for crying out loud’, she thought. The same boy she used to trade insults with through the chain mail fence that ran between their childhood homes. The boy who’d pulled her pig tails in class, and the terror who’d teased her unmercifully when she’d gotten her first bra. There were some things a girl just wasn’t meant to see and her best friend sucking on the enormous tits of a slutty waitress was one of them!
Paris considered leaving the stall, weighing the embarrassment of exposure against the mortification of arousal, but she just couldn’t seem to remove her eye from the crack in the door frame.
“Fuck, babygirl, look at those tits. Let’s get this off.” With an expert flick of fingers, Tom removed the lace that covered Tiffany’s quivering breasts. His big fingers cupped and mashed the huge globes together as the tip of his tongue flicked the tips; teeth nipping and biting, leaving red marks on the translucent flesh. Tom’s heated mouth was everywhere, scorching a damp trail from one nipple to the other, growling into the curve of Tiffany’s neck and biting on her earlobe.
Paris’ skin prickled with need and her nipples rose in anticipation as she watched Tom’s mouth capture Tiffany’s nipple. Paris pulled away from the door and clasped a hand to her mouth to prevent the rasping noise of her breath from reaching the couple on the other side of the door. Sharp teeth bit down onto her lower lip; they were right, whoever they were, curiosity certainly did kill the cat.
Tom’s faint growls echoed and bounced off the tiled walls making the fine hairs on the nape of Paris’ neck rise. When Tiffany started to squeal her pleasure Paris struggled with the temptation to peer once more through the crack… and lost.
Reluctantly she turned, her face drawn back to the torrid scene on the other side of the door. Paris was met with the vision of Tiffany, face buried against the counter, her skirt flipped up over her naked back and her panties scrunched around one ankle. A single foot was raised high upon the bench top. Her swollen slit was obscenely exposed and glistened wetly as Tom buried his thrusting tongue within her folds.
Paris watched as his fingers spanned her fleshy hips and rocked her cunt furiously back and forth over his tongue. His growls made Paris’ stomach clench and heat with lust. Eyes widened and breath caught in her throat as his tongue ran from Tiffany’s engorged nub, through her fleshy, swollen folds and up to the forbidden, wrinkled opening that twitched incessantly.
Paris felt her knees buckle as she watched Tom work the tip of his tongue into the dark star, thrusting and prodding, stretching the tight opening so that his thumb smoothly slid into her clenching depths. He slid the digit slowly back forth as his tongue returned to the swollen folds of her sex. Tiffany’s wails of pleasure made Paris clench her teeth in frustration, and even if she refused to acknowledge it, a healthy dose of jealously.
With a slap to the taunt buttocks before him, Tom stood. His face glistened with Tiffany’s desire and Paris watched in fascination as he licked his lips; her eyes remained locked to the lithe muscle that had brought Tiffany such pleasure… and craved.
Tom buried his hands in the trembling woman’s hair and pressed her bodily forward. With her leg still raised all Paris could see were the fleshy, inner thighs and split sex of a helplessly mewling Tiffany.
The sound of the buckle as it jangled in Tom’s hands had Paris’ eyes glued to where his pants clung precariously to his hip bone; to her pleasure it revealed the toned indentation of his behind to her eager gaze. With a single thrust he fed his hard sex into the clasping sheath that awaited him.
Paris, eyes narrowed slits of lust, watched as Tom’s thick shaft reappeared, the fleshy lips of Tiffany’s pussy clinging to the gorgeous length. Paris sighed as she watched him thrust forward, the domed head once again consumed by her puffy folds.
No words were uttered between the pair and Paris struggled to keep her breath even and quiet as she watched the harsh fucking. Tom’s hips thrust savagely forward, the slapping noise of his thighs hitting the woman’s curves captivated Paris. It sounded so obscene in the otherwise quiet room.
Over and over he buried himself within the waitress. One hand clasped at the base of her skull, fingers full of blonde curls while the other hand disappeared between her thighs and strummed her clit with a fingertip.
Paris was almost oblivious of her own hand as it drifted downward of its own accord. Her fingers slithered beneath the denim and slowly traced the burning mound of her pussy; the sharp tip of a nail gently scored the spot where her throbbing bud rested beneath its hood. She unconsciously matched every pulse of Tom’s finger with her own and felt her desire flood…so close. A whimper escaped and Paris frantically clapped a hand to her mouth, pulling backwards as she thought she saw Tom pause and glance her way.
Tom’s grunt unerringly drew her gaze back to his image reflected in the bathroom mirror. She’d never seen Tom so brutally handsome. His eyes were dark and serious, the normally happy smile wiped from his face and replaced with a harsh twist.
Paris’ sex fluttered, empty and aching; completely unsatisfied with just the tip of her finger. Her gaze clung to Tom’s mouth and thoughts of those lips pleasuring her twitching sex had her hips rolling and grinding against her hand.
Tom grunted. His hips thrust forward as Tiffany shunted herself back to meet him. Paris panted; her fingers frantic on her sex. Seconds from her release, Paris was torn back from the brink by Tiffany’s high pitched wail. Tom shunted his hips twice before stepping back, his face an empty, blank mask as he tucked himself back into his trousers.
Tom raked agitated fingers through his hair before he rubbed them along his jaw. He glanced at the blonde waitress still bent over the sink top, both feet on the ground now, but thighs still quivering. “Thanks, babygirl.”
Tiffany raised a ravished face, mascara trailing her cheeks and tousled pony tail pulled askew, “Call me, okay. Anytime,” she whispered.
“Uhm, sure. I’m a bit busy at the moment though, so…” Tom smiled and shrugged. “I’ll drop by the café for a coffee sometime. Okay?” The awkward exchange made Paris blush on Tiffany’s behalf. Men could be such arses
Tiffany stood straighter, pulling what dignity that remained about her. “Sure, I’ll keep you a piece of cherry pie. I heard you telling your friend how much you like it.”
Paris almost laughed out loud and she watched a corresponding grin bloom over Tom’s face. “Yeah, cherry pie’s my favourite.” He stepped back, awkwardly. “Okay. Well thanks for…” he waved his hand indicating Tiffany’s nude state and walked out the door.
The deserted waitress stood amongst the ruins of her clothing watching the door close before she quickly bobbed down, scooped up her bra and shirt and hastily donned the torn clothing.
“Tiff, you w… oh wow. Did you guys…?” Amber’s voice came to a screeching halt as she took in Tiffany’s dishevelled state.
“What the hell do you think?” she snapped back. “Go get me a new shirt from… Oh never mind. I’ll do it myself.” Tiffany brushed past a startled Amber, elbowing her in the side as she yanked open the door.
Any sympathy Paris was feeling evaporated; the girl truly was a bitch. Paris rested her forehead against the stall door trying to calm down, her breath hitched unexpectedly as her pussy twitched with need. Placing a fingertip gently against her slit she traced the damp denim enclosing her throbbing sex, slowly easing her need with a gentle touch. Frustration pulsed alongside her desire as she slowed her breathing. What had she been thinking, she’d almost climaxed watching her best friend fuck a stranger. “What is wrong with me?” she whispered brokenly, her voice cracking slightly.
With a shuddering sigh Paris shook free of her musings and tried to think objectively about Tom for a moment. He was attractive enough she guessed; shrugging, as she began to straighten her mussed clothing. Tall, nice brown eyes, sandy blonde hair that always looked like he just got out of bed; seriously the man needed to get a proper haircut. But, really when she looked at him, all she saw was the same skinny kid, with teeth too big for his smile, who used to pick his nose and flick snot balls at her over the back fence.
Paris stood straighter as the outer door creaked open once more; she froze in the act of opening the stall door when she heard a familiar voice.
“Come out, Paris, I know you are in there. I could smell you.”
Heat scorched Paris’ face and chest; her hand unconsciously cupping and shielding her damp sex in horror at the thought that Tom could smell her arousal.
She collapsed in relief against the stall wall when his frustrated voice growled, “You’re the only woman I know who smells like vanilla and cinnamon.”
Paris grimaced when Tom’s hand smacked against her door, and he uttered the same thoughts racing around her own head, “You can’t stay in there forever, you know.” His voice was laced with humour and an underlining frustration.
With a deep breath Paris snapped open the lock and pressed the stall door open; flicking back her hair she walked to the sink, ‘Be cool. Cool…cool as a cucumber.’ The refrain repeated itself over and over. ‘I’m going crazy,’ she thought to herself as she swallowed a hysterical giggle.
“Hello, Tom.”
“Hello Tom? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Paris’ calm green gaze met Tom’s incredulous one in the bathroom mirror, “What else would you have me say, Tom? Nice cock, Son?”
Tom’s mouth hung open and Paris watched with interest as heat raced across his prominent cheek bones. His mouth gaped a few times before he leant in angrily, “I expected you to leave!”
Paris shoved her finger into Tom’s chest angrily. “It’s a freakin’ public bathroom, Tom! What the hell were you thinking? Jesus, you said it yourself; you knew I was here, so why would you make me watch that?”
Tom slowly leant back, the anger abruptly leaving his face, “So you were watching. I’d wondered if you were. I was sure I heard you gasp at one point. Was it from pleasure or shock, Paris? I wonder,” his eyes turned calculating for a moment as he leant forward and inhaled Paris’ scent. Tom’s lips curved seductively and Paris wanted to slap the look right off his arrogant face. “So, Paris, if I tasted your fingers right now, what would they taste of, I wonder?” his voice rumbled deep in his chest and had Paris wondering if it was fear or desire that pulled low in her belly. Her fingers clenched tellingly and she whipped her hands behind her back to keep them from Tom’s reaching hand. With a sinking feeling she glanced back up to his face to find his lips smugly laughing at her.
A darker emotion lurked beneath his laughter, what was it? The fact that her heart now pounded fearfully in her chest had her deciding she was better off not knowing.
Tom pushed his hip off the counter and took a step towards Paris, his lips no longer amused, “Paris, I…”
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a woman’s annoyed intake of air as she pushed open the outer door and glared at Tom before stepping backwards and pointedly holding the door open for him.
“Later, Toots.” He grinned impishly, whistling as he pulled on her pony tail before turning and bowing at the waiting woman. With a slow smile he swung out the door.
Paris slowly grinned into the mirror, Tom hadn’t called her Toots since he’d found her kissing his best friend, Marcus Sutcliff, behind the bike shed when she’d been sixteen. He’d been mad as a cut snake and hadn’t spoken to her again until she and Marcus had broken up a month later. He still had that slit eyed glare when he was angry to this day. Yup, he hadn’t really changed at all, well apart from the snot balls, although knowing him, she snorted under her breath, he’d probably still hurl one at her if he thought the situation warranted it.
Paris blushed suddenly, a blazing heat that stole up her chest and into her cheeks as a heated thought bloomed into her consciousness; he fucked. He fucked like an animal, hard and with no thought but pleasure. That was a least one thing about Tom that had changed.
He was no boy.
::~:::~::
