Chapter 3 - Aimee

God, I had no idea being ‘HER’ could be so much fun.  I couldn’t quite believe I said that out loud, but Richie fucking Sambora was checking me out, and if I’m not mistaken, by the look of his jeans he likes what he sees. 

Christ he’s big.  Actually, he’s not only big, he’s B-I-G.  I knew all about him, of course, I am smack dab in the middle of his band’s demographic.  I also heard the rumors about his dick and his prowess, and how much he likes going down on a woman.  Sweet Jesus, I want that.  All of it.

As I was waiting on his answer, the front door opened, and a group of sweaty men came in.  Ah, the meat.  Too little, too late, boys, I’ve already picked my prize for the evening.  Nevertheless, a couple of them came closer, sniffing around to see what the story was.  Richie smiled a seductive, dirty smile at me, then reached out for my hair.  Oh good Christ my hair.  He wound it gently around his wrist, his fingers grazing the back of my neck, and pulled me in.

“Why don’t I start my education right here,” he said, his voice getting low and rumbly.  “Starting with how your mouth tastes,” he leaned forward, licked his lips, “and then we’ll move directly to that ink on your thigh.”  He touched those luscious lips to mine and slid a hand from my waist to the hem of my dress, playfully slipping the tip of his finger under it.

Ah, it wasn’t so much that his mouth touched mine as it positively owned mine.  He barely stroked my lips with his tongue, and they were parting to take him in.  He tasted wonderfully of tequila and cigarettes, of sex and promise.  The feel of his hand wound into my hair was incredibly erotic, and the light tickling of my leg was making me hot.  I wished with all my being that he’d pull my head back and latch this perfect mouth onto my neck while sliding his hand far up my dress.

Instead, he abandoned my leg to cup my ass (over my dress, damn it) and pull me closer to him, his fingers gripping me hard.

“Fuck,” I heard someone whisper, and I slowly regained some of my senses.  Most of them were dulled by the excellent top-shelf tequila, but there were still a few threads of sanity left, and I used them to etch this moment into my brain’s permanent memory.  When Richie shifted the angle of his head slightly, and sought to deepen the kiss, I inched closer to him, nudging his legs open with one of mine so I could stand between his knees. 

I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, and let my fingers trail over the leather thong necklaces he wore to slide over the satiny smoothness of his skin.  I let my long fingers slip inside one side of his silk shirt and found a nipple, scoring my fingernail over it.  Richie flinched just a tiny bit, and gripped my ass tighter.  Reluctantly, I withdrew my hand.  If I didn’t, I’d have his shirt off of him, and Joe wouldn’t appreciate that.  I chose to explore his hair next, sliding my hand up to cup the side of his head.  His hair was so damned soft and thick and I knew – I just KNEW – that I had to know what it felt like brushed against my thighs.  I had to, or I would die.

Richie slid to the end of his stool, spreading his legs wider, and giving me a chance to press into his erection, and sweet fucking hell it was huge. He pulled me in tighter against him, pressing my heat into his hardness.  I nipped at his tongue, anxious to get to the next level, but not here.  He broke the kiss, a little surprised that I bit him. 

“Make no mistake, Rich: I want you so bad I can taste it,” I told him in a low, husky voice, “but I am not going to fuck you standing up here in Smitty’s. I have to come back here in a couple days to get my keys, and I’d like to be able to look Joe in the eye.”

Richie chuckled at me, and his eyes were black with unspent need.  Thank God.  “You got it, darlin’,” he said, easing me back a couple of inches so he could slide off his stool.  He put his hand possessively around my waist as we sauntered two stools down so I could retrieve my bag.

I laid a couple of twenties down on the bar, a tenner for good measure, and told Joe I’d see him in a day or two to collect my keys.  “Be cah-ful,” Joe admonished, seeing what was happening.

“No worries, Joe” I answered.  “I can handle this,” I said, hitching my head in Richie’s direction.  “And if I can’t, you know who he is; you can have Frankie arrest him.”  Joe’s brother Frankie was a Statie.

I turned to find Richie’s mouth gaping a little.  I put my forefinger under his chin and pushed up gently.  “I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” I said.  “A girl can’t be too careful.  Now shut your mouth, lover; can’t have you catching flies,” I said softly.  “I don’t want anything spoiling the taste of you.”

Richie’s hand tightened around my waist, his fingers digging deliciously into my side, and he led me from the bar.  “Where are we going?” he asked, his voice a strangled whisper.

The sun had finally set, and shadows were being cast all around.  I considered our options, and went for classy rather than whorish.

“Where’re you staying?” I asked him.

“The Westin,” he grumbled, looking around for a taxi.  Shit.  Southie to downtown was way too far to walk, and the drive would be way too long to wait.

Shit.  Whorish it was.

“Fuck,” I said.  “Come with me.” 

I led him around the back of Smitty’s, to the service entrance.  I happen to know that Joe gets his deliveries early in the morning, and aside from the stray smoke break, this alley doesn’t see much action.

That was about to change.

The alley wasn’t the cleanest place I’ve ever seen, but I guess it wasn’t too bad as far as alleys go.  It’s not like we were going to lay down in the trash on the street.  I couldn’t quite believe what I was doing, but I was just drunk enough to not really care.  I led Richie into the shadows by the back door, and pulled him into me to pick up where we left off.

He had to bend down to kiss me, and as he bent his knees, I used his calf as a step and – oh yeah – climbed up onto him.  No nervous chuckle.  He breathed, “Fuck, yeah,” and pressed me into the wall. I felt my hair snagging on the uneven brick behind me, and was thrilled that he was being a little rough with me.  My legs wrapped around his waist, and I think my right shoe fell off, but I didn’t care.  He ground into me hard, pressing me firmly against the wall, letting me feel each bump and pit of the bricks, and I wondered just how far he was willing to go. 

When I started flexing my hips so I could rub slightly up and down against him, and he moaned, he gave me my answer.

While he explored my tonsils, he reached under my dress and slid a finger under the leg of my panties.  I think he growled, I’m not sure.  I actually don’t care.  I wanted to feel his calloused fingertips skitter along my OH FUCK YES!  He slid his fingers farther into my panties and grazed my lips.  When I angled my hips a little bit away from him to give him better access, he took advantage, slamming two fingers hard into me.

One stroke, then two, then three, and I screamed with pleasure as the orgasm overtook me.