Red Flags Go Faster (Alpha 3)

The following story is intended to eventually be a one-shot and eventually reach about a full novel-length. I have the entire story planned out already with room to remain spontaneous, so I’m looking forward to exploring these characters slowly over the next few months. The concept behind this story is ‘What if a girl seems too perfect?’ and ‘Is that a red or green flag?’ I’m also trying out a bit more of a stoic main character than I usually write - we’ll see if I can manage it!

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Chapter 4 (Continued)

“You up, Beau?” Amber asked, poking her head around the wall in the kitchen and looking across the apartment to me. She was further away than I expected. How big was this place?

“Yeah, Darlin’,” I called. “I’m awake.” I started to get up.

“Stay there, I’m bringing breakfast to you,” she called, disappearing back around the corner. Part of me wanted to at least sit myself up, and maybe figure out where my briefs went since I was naked under the covers. But I was comfortable and my brain was currently arguing with my liver over the amount of alcohol I’d drank the night before without drinking water.

Then that completely left my mind as a vision of pure heaven came striding out of the kitchen towards me…

Amber was wearing a green apron, and judging by the amount of skin I was seeing around it, only an apron. Maybe it was a cliche, but God damn she made that cliche look good. Bare feet on the hardwood floor. Bare legs. The bottom of the apron ended about two-thirds of the way up her thighs, covering most of her front except for the outward-most curves of her bare hips. It was cinched around her waist and hugged her up to her bust, where the outer curves of her breasts were peeking out from the chest tantalizingly. Her shoulders and arms were bare, her neck holding just a thin little silver chain, and she had her hair up in a messy bun so her cute face was being haloed like an angel with a spray of strawberry blonde.

Despite all of that scenery, though, it was that look she gave me that could absolutely ruin me. That cocky, quirky smile that was almost a smirk but not quite, like the fucking Amazon logo. That slight lift to just one eyebrow, like she was asking a question with a perfect amount of innuendo. And the bright glimmer in her eyes that matched the thin silver hoops in her septum and one nostril as they twinkled in the morning light.

“I figured since I promised you breakfast, I should probably follow through, Beau,” Amber said as she carried a wooden tray heaped with a plate of bacon and waffles. Somehow she sauntered as she did it, and part of me wondered if it was a trick of the light or something that it felt like she got slower the closer she got to me, like the world wanted me to experience this utter vision in full slow-mo glory.

“I’d have been thrilled with a slice of toast and a smear of jam, Darlin’,” I said, shaking my head in wonder at the heap of food.

Amber deftly did something under the try and two sets of wooden legs sprung out, and she set it down over me as I sat up, making a little in-bed table. “Please, Rudy,” Amber laughed. “You’re a working man. I know you need to eat. Hold on, let me grab the syrup. You want coffee? OJ? Both?”

“Both would be fantastic, Darlin’,” I said. “But one or the other is fine.

She rolled her eyes at me playfully and turned, walking away as she looked over her shoulder. “I’ve got both, it’s not like you’re putting me out,” she said. “And after that effort last night, you deserve a king-sized breakfast.”

I couldn’t respond and by the look in her eye she knew it, laughing as she continued to walk away.

No bra, which I’d already known, and no panties. That perfect fucking ass sauntering away, jiggling a little with each step.

“Fuck,” I finally muttered.

The plate was heaped with more food than I could eat by a good margin, some breakfast sausages browned and crispy stacked under the bacon. Thankfully there were two bundles of utensils in napkins so I wasn’t expected to make an attempt at the whole thing myself. The woman cooked like she was serving a family of five!

“How do you take it?” she called from the kitchen. “Wait, no, let me guess. Black as dirt and bitter like a Clint Eastwood character?”

I snorted. “Black as dirt is good, but I’ve got a sweet tooth, Darlin’. Gimme a couple sugars in it, please.”

“Mmm, a sweet tooth, huh?” she asked, looking around the corner of the kitchen, down the hallway and across the bedroom again. “So how does some whipped cream sound?”

“I could lick up some whipped cream,” I said, already knowing that she was thinking where else we could put the whipped cream to use other than the waffles. She flashed me a big grin and I could hear her snicker all the way across the apartment as she ducked away.

When she came back out she was carrying another tray, this one with two mugs, two tall glasses of Orange Juice, a can of spray whipped cream, and a funny-shaped glass bottle of real Canadian Maple Syrup.

“Honestly, I’d make the whipped cream from scratch but I don’t have any in the place right now,” Amber said as she leaned over me and the food tray, sliding the drink tray onto the mattress next to me and maybe-purposefully giving me a peak at the side of her boob under the apron.

“This is already amazing, Amber,” I said, catching her elbow and gently pulling her towards me. She grinned as she leaned in, her smile lazy and pleased as her eyes hooded a little and she pressed her apron-clad tits to my chest before easing into the kiss.

“Mm,” she hummed softly, her lips working before she gave me a couple teases of just a touch of tongue and a little nibble on my lower lip. Then she pulled back, her grin returning. “So you do remember my name,” she chuckled warmly.

“Darlin’, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” I said. “Last night was fun.”

“Good,” she grinned. Then she stood up and reached behind her, undoing the apron and lifting it over her head with a flourish, revealing her gorgeous body to me again. This time with more light involved. She was as stunning and utterly perfect as my fuzzy memory pictured her. Her breasts those perfect just-more-than-a-handful size, her nipples springing out an inch as they were freed from the thick fabric of the apron. Her soft but slender stomach. Her mound with its perfect little rectangular landing strip, carefully trimmed and pointing down towards her plush little lips. She started climbing on the bed, straddling my legs as she dropped the apron to the floor, and she sat between my shins and nimbly crossed her legs as she grinned.

That’s right, I’m not afraid to show you everything, her eyebrows teased.

Take a good look. Stare. I love the way you look at me.

This morning isn’t ending at breakfast.

“So are you a bacon or sausage man?” she asked with a grin, handing me one of the napkin-wrapped utensil bundles and then unwrapping her own.

“Darlin’, please. Both,” I chuckled.

“Mmm, a man after my own heart,” she smirked as she stabbed one of the breakfast sausages with her fork and took a savage little bite out of it, then picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite of that too before winking.

We dug in, Amber insisting she actually spray some whipped cream on my first waffle and drizzling it with the Maple Syrup. Everything was delicious.

“Mmkay,” I said once I had finished the first waffle. “This is really good.”

“Thanks, Beau,” she grinned before popping a forkful of waffle, syrup and whipped cream into her mouth, chewing and swallowing. “Honestly, I like cooking when I have the time to do it right. I hate it when I’m on the run and would rather just grab some takeout, but cooking for someone is…”

I frowned as she hesitated. Suddenly that line I felt like I had right into her brain through the way she looked at me got cloudy. “Nice?” I guessed.

“It is,” she said, her shoulders relaxing just a little as she smiled easily. Then she looked at me hard, her brows coming together just a little. “Rudy, I- Last night you said it had been a while, and I said it had been a while for me, took. I wasn’t lying. Despite what… all this, and that, looks like, I don’t usually invite guys up to my place the first night I meet them. Or make them breakfast in the morning.”

“Or eat that breakfast naked?” I asked with a little grin.

She gave me a look and smirked. “Definitely not.” Then she bit the inside of her cheek and picked up the can of whipped cream, spraying a little bit on one finger and then rubbing it over her lips. “Oops. I think I need some help.”

I laughed and shifted, leaning forward over the food tray as she leaned in to meet me. I kissed the sugary sweet taste off of her lips until she pulled back, cleaning and smiling. 

“I think you’re dodging what you were going to say,” I said. “And I’m not gonna pressure you to get back to it if you don’t want to, Darlin’, but I think it’s fair that I point it out.”

She sighed heavily, tilting her head to the side as she gave me a ‘God damn it, you’re right and it’s annoying that you are’ sort of look. “You’re going to think I sound like a crazy girl,” she said.

“Sorry, we got into a one-night-relationship within thirty seconds of us meeting, you brought me and over half the wedding party for my best friend’s wedding to a Strip Club to show us a good time, and then we had wildly amazing oral sex. And then you made this amazing naked breakfast. I’m honestly kind of scared for the other shoe to drop here, Amber, and you being crazy would explain… a lot,” you said.

She barked a laugh and covered her mouth, giggling behind her hand as she glared at me. “Fine,” she said. “Maybe I do already seem like a crazy girl. But please just… don’t freak out, OK?”

“I promise not to sprint out the door naked,” I said. “How’s that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Good enough, I guess.” She took a breath and then delayed one more moment by taking a sip of her coffee. “The reason it’s been a while for me is because I’m not looking for casual. I don’t know what this is - maybe it’s just both of us taking a break from being serious about stuff, and we synced up for one night of Wow. But usually, I’m the kind of girl who dates with intention. I want a husband. And fuck if I don’t realise that makes me sound like some cock-hungry Born Again ‘virgin’ just gagging to get a ring on her finger so she can have an excuse to finally give her boyfriend enough leeway to stick it in her instead of dry humping in the back seat of the car. But I’ve known for a long time that I want to be a wifey. I want to take care of my man, and in return feel provided and protected for. That’s why I learned to cook. It’s why I like to work out. Hell, it’s why I taught myself to deep-throat using a dildo. ‘Cause seeing that look in your eye the first time I wedged your cock down my throat was so fucking sexy and satisfying, and seeing you react to me making breakfast had the same damn effect. And I want to do that to- and see that look in the eye of- the man I’ll call my husband. So of course here I am dumping the results of my trauma all over the bed right after I make you breakfast, making myself a total nutcase, and-”

“Amber, Darlin’,” I said, cutting her off and reaching across the tray to grab her hand. She clicked her mouth shut, flushing as she realised how hard she’d been ranting. “I think whoever is lucky enough to put a ring on this finger better know exactly how lucky they are.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then hiccuped out a little chuckle and sighed at herself, shaking her head. “Thank you, Beau.” She squeezed my fingers with hers.

“Look, I’m not exactly… equipped with the tool some fancy therapist probably is. I’m more of the ‘crack open a beer, stare at a sunset over a lake’ kind of guy when it comes to working my shit out,” I said. “But if you want to talk that trauma stuff out…”

“God, you’re cute,” Amber said, then took a breath. “I’d rather crack a beer and look at a sunset over a lake too. And I didn’t want to… yeah. Trauma dump. But I’ve learned it’s better to just be upfront about stuff before one of us starts making assumptions.”

“Darlin’, are you suggesting that truthful communication might be good for everyone involved?” I asked with a little smirk.

“Fuck off,” she laughed, giving my hand another squeeze before letting go and picking her fork up again.

“Alright, then if we’re both comfortable starin’ out at lakes, what are you doing in this apartment?” I asked. “It’s… fuck, Darlin’, it might be the nicest home I’ve ever set foot in that wasn’t a client’s because I’m digging them a big fuckin’ pool in their backyard. What’s my ‘girlfriend’ do to get a place like this?”

Amber opened her mouth again, then closed it with a sigh as she gave me a look. “You really don’t know who I am?” she asked.

It was my turn to talk with my eyebrows, raising one questioningly.

“You don’t ‘feel like you recognize me from somewhere?’” she pressed.

“I could give you a line about you bein’ in my dreams if you’d like,” I smirked.

She flashed me that smile again. The killer one. “Part of the reason I like you is because you didn’t try any lines like that, Beau,” she said. Then she shook her head. “OK, I know how this is gonna sound after everything I just said about being intentional about wanting to find a husband.”

“Why do you make that sound like trouble?” I asked.

“Because I know it is, but it’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear,” she said. “Look- Fuck, OK, minor trauma dump, OK? I’m technically an orphan - my parents died in a car accident when I was twelve, and I was raised by my Grandparents after that. But my parents died young, and didn’t get to do so much in life, and the two biggest things I remember about them were how much they loved and supported each other, and how much they stressed over money. So I kind of don’t want to live life slow because you never know when it’s going to get stolen from you. I do have my business admin degree like I told you, but that’s not what I do at all.”

“Amber, Darlin’,” I said, letting out a breath as I raised both eyebrows and looked into her eyes. “Have you considered opening with the thing you’re trying to say and then explaining after?”

She looked at me dumbfounded for a moment and then snorted, closing her eyes and she rubbed her forehead and laughed. “Fuck,” she said. “I do sound crazy, don’t I?”

“Maybe just a little,” I said.

She shook her head and looked at me. “I’m a professional cocktease,” she said bluntly. “Which, I mean, I don’t have a business card for or anything, obviously. But I make really good money between sponsorship deals on social media and from OnlyFans subscriptions. I don’t do anything nude or, like, super sexual though. Seriously. I only do non-nude content - the nakedest I get is bikinis or underwear. I never show… all of this.” She gestured to her chest and then her little trimmed bush. “But between posing, dancing, and talking flirty or a little dirty to the camera I figured out how to hook people online. Now I’m one of the top non-nude models on OnlyFans, and that’s how I can afford this place, and my car and race car, and track time, and going to races and stuff.”

I shook my head slightly, blinking.

“I know, it sounds weird that I’m looking for a good hubby and I flaunt myself online,” she said, gesturing with a piece of waffle stuck on her fork. “But I’m super specific about what I won’t do, and I wouldn’t be ashamed of having anything I’ve put out being on a private Instagram that was just for family and friends. Hell, my Grandma follows my Tiktok and thinks the teasing shit is hilarious. And if I do find my future hubby and know he’s the one, and he feels any sort of way about it, I’ll delete it all and burn my presence on the internet to the ground.”

I was still shaking my head, and I was sure I looked confused.

“What?” she asked. “Look, I know, it’s weird and maybe it changes how you think of me, but-”

“No, Amber,” I said, stopping her. “Race car? Track time?”

Her eyes lit up as she grinned at me again.

Chapter 5

I hadn’t seen the living room yet. To be fair, I could have seen it when we walked by it the night before, but my eyes had been a little busy following every move that Amber had been making. The decor in the room felt like it explained a lot about this girl.

First was the big fucking flatscreen and the couch with individual bucket seats, armrests and cup holders, which would have been the pride and joy of any man’s house. Then there were the framed posters for NASCAR events, signed by rivers. I wasn’t a big fan of the sport but I recognized some names and locations. I would have assumed they were purchased on eBay or something but the posters had pictures inside their frames of Amber at the events, either posing with drivers who had signed the poster or with a pair of older folks who I guessed were her Grandparents. More framed pictures were scattered around the room, most of them featuring Amber, her Grandparents, and race cars. There were several with Amber wearing driving coveralls in bright red with yellow chevrons, and one prominent one with her up on her Grandfather’s and another man’s shoulders as she hefted a trophy - the same trophy that was in a display case.

The last, big piece of decor was a prominent model car in a glass box. It was a racing car in the same red with yellow chevrons, maybe the size of my torso and intricately detailed inside and out. When Amber hit a switch on the wall the lights came on, spotlighting the major pictures and the model car.

“So you’re sayin’ you like to go fast?” I joked.

“If you ain’t first, yer last,” Amber grinned, quoting the same Will Ferrell movie I’d paraphrased.

“This is really impressive, Amber,” I said, reluctant to step away from the entirely nude woman but doing so anyway, approaching the big photo of her with the trophy and the model car. I looked back over my shoulder at her, as naked as she was, and tried not to eye her up as I met her gaze. “Somehow you keep surprising me, and every single one is an absolute blast.”

“So you don’t care that I can probably drive better than you?” she asked with a smirk. “You don’t feel like I’d be threatening your masculinity?”

“Darlin’, as long as you realise I could do circles around you in a 70,000-pound excavator, I’ll leave the fast and light stuff to you all day,” I smirked.

“That, Rudy,” she said as she crossed the room to me and grinned that killer smile up into my eyes. “Is the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me.”

Then she dropped to her knees, grabbed my mostly-hard cock, and started to blow me.

“Ooh, fuck,” I mumbled, leaning back a little from the sudden rush of pleasure shooting up through me as her lips dragged up my shaft and she sucked hard, her tongue slithering around the head of my cock. I almost pressed a hand to the glass of the model car display and managed to catch myself, bracing on the corner of the base instead. “Ambar- Holy-”

“Hmmhmmhmm,” she chuckled in a hum around my cock. Then she pulled off with an audible pop, grinning again. “You like my hair up or down when I’m sucking your cock, Beau?”

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous either way, Darlin’,” I grunted.

“Grab my bun and fuck my mouth,” she said, just a little huskily. “You know I can take you. Trust me.”

I did know she could take my cock. All the way to the root. The end of last night was the fuzziest of all, but I very much remembered how she’d proven she could swallow my entire cock and do things with a blowjob I’d never experienced before. I also remembered she liked things on the rougher side of tender - she liked her nipples getting beat up a little, fingers clawing her ass, and little nibbles all over her body just like she kissed.

So as she looked up at me from her knees, giving me that fucking grin that was going to haunt my dreams for years, I placed my fingers right at the front of her hairline and slid my hand through her hair and across her scalp. I wove my fingers into her hair and then grabbed her messy, sexy bun at the back of her head.

“I’m just saying,” I said, looking her in the eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve met anyone who gives off better Best Wifey Ever vibes than you.”

She laughed, and I used that opportunity to draw her closer and slide my cock between her lips. Amber let me take the lead, working her mouth actively but letting me draw her in and pull her back off as if her neck was completely loose. The combination of active participation and total submission of control was intoxicating and I found my eyes rolling up at little as I dragged her mouth on and off of me, groaning as I silently coached her to focus on the head of my cock for a long moment, then driving deeper.

Her tongue, her lips, even her little nibbling teeth, drove me crazy. But the thing that almost sent me over the edge prematurely were her eyes as I looked down at her and she looked up at the same time. But I held my composure and the corner of her mouth pulled up, smirking a little around my cock as her eyebrow lifted.

Almost got you, it said.

You’ll need to try harder because I’m not gonna make this easy.

Are you going to fuck my throat or not?

I pulled her slowly and forcefully towards me, and as she resisted me just slightly to tilt her head a little for the right angle she moaned in her chest, then the crown of my cock was nudging around her throat and she made a slick, wet gagging sound as she swallowed it down.

I remembered her doing it; I didn’t remember the exquisite, spine-tingling feeling of it. Now I got to re-experience that feeling and growled as Amber swallowed repeatedly, making a sort of gluck-gluck noise as she worked my cock with every part of her mouth. Then she gasped for air as I pulled her off of me, my cock not even fully leaving her mouth and her lips stringing to it with spittle as she grinned open-mouthed at me.

She gave me a double flicker with her eyebrows.

Faster, they said.

I pulled her back towards me and pushed into her throat again, delving as deep as I could as her nose mashed to my pubic bone and her chin touched my balls. And then, holding her still, I started to thrust my cock, pulling back and then pushing into her throat over and over. The gluck-glucking got louder. Drool started to pool and then spill out the corners of her mouth. Her eyes watered. And she kept swallowing, kept squeezing on my cock and writhing her tongue and sucking with her lips and I almost had a religious experience as I felt this gorgeous woman dedicate herself to giving me the kind of pleasure I hadn’t known existed.

“Fuck!” I yelled, pulling her away from my cock by her hair roughly. She was grinning as she coughed, trying to catch her breath, her breasts heaving and jiggling as her lungs struggled to catch up with the rest of her body. I grabbed my cock and stroked fast, pointing it towards her.

“Come on my tits, Beau,” she gasped. “Come all over my tits. Come on my face. Fuck I want your cum, baby. Come all over my tits and face.”

I groaned. She shot me that smile again. I erupted, my balls pulling up and firing off a thick set of ropes as my mind blanked with the searing pleasure of the orgasm. One rope hit her chin and down her neck, but the other four painted her chest and tits, followed by a speckling of more cum as my body attempted to eject what I could only assume was every ounce of semen left in my body.

“Yeees,” she was humming. “Fuck, yes, Beau. That’s so hot, fuck. God, I love it. Paint me with your cum.”

We were both left panting, and I let go of her hair as I stumbled to the side and put a hand on the couch to steady myself. “Amber- Fuck-” I panted.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, slowly running her hands up her stomach to just under her tits, pinching her nipples gently as she looked down at herself, then up at me. “Rudy, that was-”

I interrupted her as my vision settled back into focus and I felt my energy flood back. Turning quickly, my interruption came in the form of hooking my hands under her armpits and hauling her up from her knees. She let out a small yelp and then laughed as I easily carried her two steps over and plopped her down in the middle seat of her couch and got on my knees, pulling her legs open and yanking her butt to the edge of the cushion so that her delicious pussy was ripe and ready for eating.

“Holy tits,” Amber moaned as she grabbed her breasts roughly, smearing my cum all over by accident as she reacted to me diving in and driving my tongue through her pretty labia, testing her slick arousal. My nose pressed against her clit, and I grazed my teeth against the side of her labia as I started to remember the things she’d liked last night. But then she was pressing me back with a foot on my shoulder. “Wait,” she gasped. “Waitwaitwait.”

“What?” I asked, chuckling a little incredulously as I let her push me back but took her foot in both hands, bringing it closer so I could kiss her slender, sexy ankle. She was an utterly lewd mess, smattered with sweat and cum, her hair falling wildly out of its bun. “You know I want to.”

“I know,” she panted and shook her head, laughing breathily. “It’s not that. You need to get back to the hotel for your tee time. Golfing with the wedding party boys.”

I looked at her incredulously, then at the NASCAR clock on the wall. “I’ve got plenty of time to make you come… a dozen times or more, Darlin’.”

She sat up, pulling her foot from me and taking my face in both hands. “Not if we’re going to get you back to the hotel and give housekeeping a reason to make your bed later,” she said. “All we need to do is stop for condoms on the way. And give me a minute to wash my face and tits of all this cum.”

Maybe she could read my mind like I could read hers through her eyebrows. Maybe it was just a little obvious what I was thinking. Either way, she grinned broadly, knowing I was very, very happy to follow along with her new plan.