by Ami Snow
Tyler's knees buckled as he slunk to the floor, dropping on his knees. He buried his nose between her supple, shapely cheeks, breathing in deeply at her pure, musky scent. Madeline arched her back in surprise, groaning as the sharp tip of his nose tickled the dripping folds of her crevice. He pulled away, wiping the trail of juices trickling down the insides of her thighs, and slid his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sweet, lightly biting twinge of her juices. He lapped against her folds, spreading her slit open with one hand, and gently kneaded the button of her clitoris with his free fingers. A warbling, sultry moan rippled out of Madeline's lips as she looked back at him with narrowed, salacious eyes, his eyes squeezed shut as he plowed through her cunt with his lightning tongue.
Tyler pulled away, gasping, his cheeks and mouth stained with his juices. He cupped Madeline's chin forcefully and pulled her towards him, kissing her ferociously, his tongue swiveling around the insides of her mouth.
“Taste yourself – I want you to know how good your sweet little cunt tastes.”
Madeline whimpered, screeching as Tyler gathered her pigtails in his hands and yanked hard, the clinking noise of his unbuckling belt buckle filling her ears. She groaned, her thighs quivering as he pressed the tip of his thick, stiff erection against the sodden-wet folds of her pulsating cunt. She pushed upwards, mounting her cheeks further into the air, a pleading moan escaping her lips.
“Oh, my god, Mr. Benson, please – I can't take it anymore – I need to feel your cock inside me. It's all I've been thinking about all night – I had to touch myself to sleep, imagining you fucking my little brains out...”
Tyler swallowed, beads of sweat cascading down the side of his face as his cock swelled against her folds. He groaned, almost slipping into the warmth of her tight cunt from the exaggerated lubrication expelling from her folds. He held on to her pigtails, twisting them in his grip as he pumped in and out of her, his sack slapping vulgarly against her slopping folds. Madeline's shrill moans seeped into the droning hum of the air-conditioner above them, her elbows starting to chafe against the friction against the wood of the desk.
Tyler stopped, his forehead wrinkling as he slowed his pace and pulled out of her. He turned her around, grabbing her wrists, his heart dropping to his stomach. The insides of her forearms were lined with the daunting, circular remnants of cigarette burns. He grabbed onto her wrists as she hurriedly struggled to wriggle out of his grasp. He crouched down, tugging her knee-high down to her ankle, a sick, metallic taste budding on his tongue at the dozens of miniscule, razor-like scars embedded onto her kneecaps.
“What the hell is all this?” demanded Tyler, his eyes widening, “Who the hell's doing this to you – is it that asshole boyfriend of yours –”
“Ex,” corrected Madeline quietly, “And no – it's not him. I – I gotta go.”
“Where are you going?”
Madeline ignored him and scrabbled out of his study. She hastily straightened her dress over her legs and buttoned her dress as she pounded down the steps and out the front door. She ran towards their front yard, clutching at the frivolous palpitations against her chest.
“Madeline? Unbelievable!”
Madeline winced, slowly rising at the inopportune whine of Colin's voice.
Chapter Six –
“Colin – what're you doing here?” Madeline hissed, scrunching up her nose in disgust as he peered at her through the Bensons' picket fence.
“No – what're YOU doing here?”
“Shh,” shushed Madeline, her eyes darting around, “Just keep it down. Give me a minute, I'll be right back.”
Madeline returned five minutes later, fully dressed in an ivory cardigan, pulled over a plain black t-shirt, and jeans. She unhinged the gate and creaked it open, slipping through the open space. Colin stared at her expectantly, his bottle-green eyes wide with rage and bewilderment as he tried to piece conclusions in his head. He cried out in disgruntlement as she slipped her fingers around his arm and guided him around the corner, peeking behind her shoulder anxiously. She led him towards the quaint Thai cafe two blocks from their house, her palms slippery with anxiety-induced perspiration as she pushed through the glass door.
Colin seethed in silence, his quavering rage dormant under the critical eye of public scrutiny. He followed Madeline into a booth in the back of the cafe, barking an order of Thai iced tea at the server. The server jotted down their orders and trotted away, muttering in her native language under her breath. He rested his elbows upon the table, kneading the point between his thick, heavily-arched brows.
“Jesus Christ, Maddie – how could you – please don't tell me you're fucking Mr. Benson –”
“Okay,” said Madeline stonily, “I'm not.”
“Goddamn it, Maddie,” snapped Colin, “How could you?”
Madeline's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring, “What do you mean how could I? Me? Really? You wanna try that again?”
Colin softened, reaching across the table. He slipped his fingers through hers, squeezing tightly as her clammy fingers attempted to squirm out of his hold.
“Please, Maddie, will you finally let me explain? I – ahem, thank you,” said Colin gruffly, shrinking into his chair as the server reappeared with two tall glasses of pale, creamy orange liquid, served with two squiggly straws.
Madeline blinked, her tightened chest mellowing with the warmth of affection as she peered into his saddened, genuinely remorseful eyes, his chest fluctuating underneath his salmon oxford. She reached across the table and cupped his large hand with her fingers, gingerly stroking the scrawls embedded across his palm. Colin's eyes brightened, his lips stretching in a slow, docile smile. Madeline took a sip of the refreshing, sugary drink, licking her lips with her orange-tinted tongue.
“Colin, you don't have to explain anything. I know what I saw you doing with Peter–”
“No, Maddie, please,” said Colin, “You don't understand, it wasn't what it looked like at all, I swear –”
“Colin,” interjected Madeline firmly, steadying her gaze, “I know exactly what I saw – and it's okay. I mean, it hurt like you wouldn't believe, and I imagine the hurt will stay with me for some time, and I wish things didn't turn out this way, but Colin – hey, look at me.”
Colin glanced up at her, his bottom lip trembling as the magnitude of her words dawned on him.
“You're not alone, Colin,” continued Madeline quietly, squeezing his hand, “I know what kind of town we live in, but trust me, there's a few support groups that will help you accept –”
Colin's eyes widened, his face darkening. He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse, “I don't know what you're talking about, Maddie, I'm not some fa –”
“Don't,” warned Madeline, her eyes flashing, “Just stop, Colin. For once in your life, just drop the machismo act, it's getting old and I'm not buying it – it was never what attracted me to you in the first place.”
Colin brushed the single tear snaking down his cheek, sighing deeply, “God, Maddie, I need help –”
“There's nothing wrong with you,” asserted Madeline, pulling his hand close to her, planting a soft kiss on his bruised knuckles, “Colin, I'll always have love for you in my heart, you know that.”
“I love you too, Maddie, I –”
“But I'm not about to let this charade go on any longer. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. We both deserve better, don't we?”
“Maddie?”
“What?”
“I'm sorry.”
Madeline breathed deeply, smiling sadly as she squeezed his hand, “Me too, Colin. Me too.”
Chapter Seven –
“Can I come in, Mr. Benson?”
Tyler looked up from the screen of his laptop, lifting his fingers from the keyboard. Madeline stood by the doorway of his study, bearing a takeout container of coconut tapioca pudding and a clear, plastic cup of Thai iced tea.
“Of course, Madeline, come on in, take a seat.”
/> Madeline strolled and settled upon the chair across his desk, and pushed the cold treats towards him. She tucked a lock of her loosened, golden locks behind her ear, the corners of her lips twitching.
“I'm sorry I ran out of here earlier today, I –”
“That's okay,” reassured Tyler softly, peering at her attentively from behind his desk, “Please, Maddie, don't feel like you owe me any explanations –”
“No,” agreed Madeline, rising from her chair, “But I want to explain.”
Madeline crossed over to his door and closed the door shut quietly. She removed her cardigan, baring her shoulders and arms, and draped it over her chair. She cleared her throat as she walked over to Tyler's side, raising the insides of her forearms. Tyler squirmed in his seat, his stomach twisting, the yellowish light from the bulbs radiating upon the darkened, perfectly circular blemishes on her flesh. He lifted his fingertips, grazing the slightly raised bumps on her skin, his mouth drying as he glanced up at her miserable, glistering eyes.
“This was when my mom found my stash of cigarettes when I was fifteen.”
Tyler breathed heavily, wetting his chapped lips with his parched tongue, “Madeline – I'm so sorry, I –”
Madeline bent forward, unfurling the leg of her jeans over her kneecaps. She revealed the tiny, bizarrely shaped, ominous scars dotting the raised pores of her kneecaps.
“And these,” Madeline intoned monotonously, yet her chin quivering, “when I was thirteen, I failed my exam for religious studies. Joy got perfect marks – I know for a fact she cheated, but of course, Mom didn't see it the same way. She didn't like that I questioned her beloved, perfect firstborn who could obviously do no wrong in her eyes –”
Tyler squeezed her wrist lightly, the lines of his forehead creasing, “Madeline, I –”
“Mom made me kneel on a bed of uncooked rice for four hours. I cried my eyes out, begging for hours, the grains were literally cutting into my skin, I was kneeling in a pool of my own blood at one point – they all just acted like they couldn't hear me. I was paralyzed for days – couldn't move, let alone walk anywhere.”
“Madeline, I –”
“I'm not done.”
Madeline turned around, raising the hem of her shirt to the back of her neck. Tyler jolted out of his seat, leaning over her naked back. Uncouth vulgarity spewed out of his lips as his eyes pored over the frightening, flesh-toned welts and slashes strewn across her back, perpetually tainting the smooth, rosy-cream of her flesh.
“What the fuck is this, Maddie – how long has this been going on? What the fuck did that psycho Connie do to you – I told Lawrence he was in over his head when he wanted to marry that broad – that bat-crazy bitch needs to be behind bars – excuse my french, Maddie –”
“Actually,” interrupted Madeline solemnly, her eyes clouding over, “There was a good reason behind this, my folks found out I lost my virginity –”
“Fuck that,” spat Tyler heatedly, “There's never a good reason to lay a hand on your child, I swear to god, your mom's a fucking nutcase and she's gonna get what's coming to her –”
“These were from my dad.”
“No,” breathed Tyler, his ears ringing, “Lawrence did this to you? Son of a bitch!”
Madeline cringed, cowering as Tyler threw his head back in a deafening roar. She yelped in surprise as he hurled his fist against the wall in a fit of uninhibited, blinded rage. She gasped as Tyler threw his arms around her, holding her close, inhaling the earthy, minty scent of his aftershave. She softened, melting into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. She squeezed her eyes shut, convulsing silently as soundless tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Look, not even Emma knows anything about this. I just – I just couldn't go home, I didn't know what they would do to me this time –” stammered Madeline between quiet, choking sobs.
“I'm so sorry, Maddie, I had no idea this was going on all these years – I'm fucking horrible, I swear to god I didn't know –”
Madeline pulled away, brushing against his prickly cheeks with the back of her hand, cooing softly, “Mr. Benson, please. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I really have no regrets – and any chance of religiousness has been beaten out of me, but I honestly think what happened between us was meant to happen – I don't know, I'm just rambling now, I –”
Madeline swooned, her eyes fluttering close as Tyler leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against hers. Tyler looked down at her quietly as they broke apart, plucking away the wisps of her bangs, and planted a delicate kiss on her forehead.
“I promise you – no one's ever gonna lay a hand on you, ever again.”
“I'm a big girl, I –”
“Madeline, I'm not questioning your strength. You're absolutely incredible and you're stronger than I'll ever be to have made it this far – I'm letting you know, you don't have to do this alone.”
Madeline looked up into his narrowed, hazel eyes, peering down at her as he wrapped his arms around the thick of her waist. Her stomach tingled, the restless butterflies fervently flapping their wings as a calming rush of tranquility washed over her like frothing waves billowing over oat-golden grains of sand. She nodded slowly, for the first time in her life, the gnawing antagonism inside of her, clawing at any ray of light in her path, dwindled away. A sweet, placid smile played on Madeline's lips, pressing her ear against Tyler's chest as he raked through her velvety locks with his fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut, losing herself to the cadenced, soothing drumming of his heartbeat pulsing against her ears.
THE END
Dressing Up For My Dad’s Best Friend
TABOO ROMANCE
By: Amanda Bolton
Dressing Up For My Dad’s Best Friend
“Oh, my God! Those Yorkies are so cute,” Bethany said.
Daddy rolled his eyes. “Little yap monsters. I’m not sure they actually count as dogs.”
“Well,” John nodded toward the television. “That is the Westminster Dog Show they’re showing. So by definition, those little yap monsters have to be dogs.”
“Thank you, John.” Bethany beamed. Having her father’s best friend stand up for her was nice. Daddy was so sure he knew everything about everything. When she was little, Bethany didn’t mind this so much – in fact, she had been more than a little convinced that her father was a genius – but now that she had a year of community college under her belt, her perspective had changed.
John beamed back, letting his brown eyes meet Bethany’s for a long moment before he turned his attention back to the television. “You’re more than welcome.”
“Hmmmph,” Daddy groused, although his tone made it clear he wasn’t really pissed. “Listen to you two ganging up on me.” On the small screen, the judge was picking the toy dog winners. “Now we’re going to see some real dogs.”
The non-sporting dogs were the next to take the stage. As each different dog was presented to the judges, Bethany exclaimed over what made it cute. She loved the Boston Terrier’s attitude and the Shar-Pei’s wrinkled face. The Chow was a gigantic ball of fluff, while the Coton du Tulear, a breed none of the three of them had ever seen before, looked like a stuffed animal brought to life.
Then the Dalmatian came on. “Oh. My. God,” Bethany said. “That is the dog I want. Look how amazingly perfect that dog is.” The smooth white dog was covered with black spots everywhere. He looked like the classic fire house dog, bright eyed and moving quickly beside his handler. “Talk about style!”
“A dog like that is a lot of work,” Daddy opined. “They like to run. You can’t keep him cooped up, not in a tiny place like this.”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean right now, Daddy. But I’m not going to live here forever, you know. When I have a place of my own, I’m definitely getting a dog.” The Dalmatian was getting lots of applause from the Kennel Club crowd. “A dog like that.”
“We’ll see,” Daddy replied. “And while you’re up, sweetheart, can you see if there�
��s any pie left? I’m sure John would like a piece.”
Bethany stood up from the armchair she’d been sitting in. Normally it drove her crazy when Daddy did his ‘while you’re up’ thing, but she wasn’t going to pick a fight with him about it on Thanksgiving.
She looked over to where John was sitting and smiled. Her Dad’s best friend was a genuinely nice guy, and she was glad he’d decided to spend the holidays with them. The alternative – going back to the apartment that’d been empty since his wife left, a mere 3 weeks after John’s most recent deployment – was too depressing to even think about. “Would you like a piece, John?” she asked. “We’ve got pumpkin pie and cherry-cranberry.”
John stood up. “I’ll get it.” He held up his coffee cup. “I need a refill anyway.”
“Okay,” Bethany said, heading toward the kitchen. “You want pumpkin, Dad?”
“You know it!”
Bethany had never thought of their kitchen as particularly small before, but John was a large man with an impressive presence. He was a good six inches taller than Bethany, with broad shoulders. Still, he maneuvered gracefully enough, stepping to the side when Bethany needed to get into the fridge for the whipped cream for Daddy’s pie.
She almost didn’t notice him checking out her ass. Almost. And John almost didn’t notice Bethany blushing. Almost.
They stood facing each other, an inch apart at most, for a long moment. Bethany saw she wasn’t the only one blushing. If she looked carefully, around the edges of John’s desert tan, there was the slightest hint of a pink flush.
Then, quick as a wink – a half a second, no longer – John’s gaze fell to Bethany’s ample bosom. When he looked back up, she was smiling, surprised at how good the older man’s attentions felt. Boys had always noticed her tits before, of course – at 46 DD, it came with the territory – but this was the first time a grown man had.
