His scowling mouth suggested he wanted to resist, but the way his dick jumped at her words gave him away even before he moved to put on a condom.
“You’ve got 10 seconds to get on before I take over.”
Fiona yanked his clothes out of the way, clambered on and managed to lower and raise herself like nerve-filled lightning twice before he flipped her onto her back and sank in.
She expected to have to hold on but he tricked her. He worked her slowly, made her tease and cajole, begging for his touch in breathy whispers.
“Make it tight around me, Feef.” He’d heard Cleo say the nickname his first morning over and now liked to use it when he was inside her. He groaned when she complied. “That feels so good.”
Yes, it does.
She licked the side of his neck. He thrust slowly, groaning like she was killing him. He couldn’t help surging forward a few times, but then he slowed it way down like he was stretching.
Fiona was half gone, back arched, hips rolling. Her hands moved over his flesh, grabbing and squeezing him closer to her soft damp heat. Her body knew what was waiting for it, and selfishly enjoyed every snug stroke and wet glide on the way there.
It was crazy how she reacted to Daney. He had only to get near her and her insides shifted. Her body literally prepared itself to be fucked. Her heart rate accelerated, body grew moist, all over, not just where it counted. Every pore opened up and called out to him. When they got close enough to touch her eyelids got heavy. She couldn’t keep her legs or lips together. Her mouth watered to taste his, to suck and bite anywhere he’d allow.
“Daney,” she said, but it sounded like, how could you do this to me when I love you so?
In reality Fiona was thinking, come on, baby, just a few more hard strokes, fuck it, these slow little undulations would work, and it’ll be over for –
“Aaa-ahhh–”
“Fiona, damn it,” he said, her orgasmic sighs pushing him to convulse and shudder suddenly in her arms as he came. “Shit! You always take over.”
“Sorry,” she rasped. “Can’t help it.” She sighed gustily and turned automatically to snuggle. “You weren’t so good I wouldn’t be so greedy.” Her skin tingled happily when he curled long, protective arms around her. “Every time I see you,” she lifted her face for his kiss, “I get so hot, I can’t wait. My skin starts to itch like it’s been peppered or something. Below my waist,” she whispered, a properly raised young girl confiding in her high school gym teacher. “Below my underwear.”
“You’re a naughty little girl, Fiona Love,” he said, a ghost of laughter in his deep voice. “How could you say such a thing? Where did you learn these filthy ideas? I think I need to spank your bottom. In fact, I think it’s mandatory to get some of that devil out of you. Well?”
She stared at him and blinked innocently. “Sir, I guess you can do anything you want to my bottom.”
Daney grinned and sat up on the edge of the bed. Fiona pressed her naked body against his back and reached around to hug his middle, but he pulled her hands away.
“Get up and walk across the room. I wanna see you move for me. Then walk back and lay yourself over my lap.”
Fiona obeyed. This was a new game. She’d kind of felt like sucking his dick, but she’d play along.
“Bring me that bottle of water on the desk over there by the phone. And a piece of candy from the dish.”
Fiona strolled naked to fetch the items, resisting the urge to spread her knees in his face or turn and twitch her ass in front of his nose. She’d never realized how much she liked to play the submissive. She placed the candy in his hands.
He unwrapped it and put the mint on her tongue. “I’m going to check after your punishment, and it better be there or it will go worse for you. Do you hear me?”
Fiona nodded.
“Have some water.”
She drank deeply, knowing he was watching her chest move while she swallowed. She paused then drank some more before she handed him the water.
“Put it back on the desk then lie face down over my lap.”
Fiona felt twice as naked the second time she walked from the table. Her breasts shivered with her excitement, and by the time she knelt to crawl over Dane’s bare lap she was breathing audibly.
“You’re looking forward to this aren’t you? You’re a bad little girl, Fiona,” and he slapped her really hard three times.
Fiona was shocked at the speed and heat of the blows. The sound of his hand hitting her ass was thick and solid. It stung madly, but somehow it wasn’t painful. She hadn’t really expected him to go through with it. Ouch! Another pop. Now that she was into it, it did hurt, but it was a weird pain, more good than bad.
She’d declined to participate in this sort of play with other men, some light hair-pulling as far as she went on that route, but now she was so wet she had to clamp her legs together. This move proved to be a mistake as the pressure made her clit throb harder. Then he pinched the heat, one of her cheeks, and the throbbing spread.
Daney began to paddle her again, rhythmically, slower and slower, and harder and harder. He built the heat up until she was writhing in his lap, wanting to pull away but somehow squirming into the blows and the pleasure/pain that spread in waves after the sound. She cried out, close to coming, and suddenly Daney lifted her and cradled her close. They clung, their hearts beating wildly together, the warmth from her bottom pulsating with the rhythm. He was the first to move, and then it was only to kiss her deeply, until her bottom began to wriggle restlessly.
“Wait,” he said when she would have squirmed down onto his dick.
He yanked open the bedside table, and she felt him being responsible beneath her. She wanted to inhale him in that moment. In the thick of things, when her brain had nearly short-circuited from lust, he cared enough about her body to protect them. Even if he was only protecting himself, she found it incredibly arousing. He’d barely begun to move when she grew tense as a wire and came violently in his lap. She went limp on his chest, and he laid her down and uncurled her limbs.
He laughed softly as he tucked her under the sheet. “I’m letting you nap for a second, then you’re mine. You ate that candy too.”
Fiona just grinned and closed her eyes…
A Willing Slave
Some things you just count on. Chris counts on her neighbor Charlie. He’s always good for a laugh, occasionally for a meal, and he’s easy on the eyes. She’s successfully hidden her crush on him, and as a result has been able to enjoy his company regularly since she moved into their building.
Then she got laid off from her job, and over breakfast one morning, Charlie decided to make her a little bet that would change the course of their friendship forever…
… How on Earth had she gotten into this? Why had she agreed? Her brains had oozed out like gas through a leaky pipe somewhere between being told to strip and feeling Charlie kiss her inner thigh. Good grief. It was one thing to entertain sexy dreams about a man, to quietly stoke a crush in the privacy of your own thoughts. It was quite another to end up jaybird ass naked in the crush’s kitchen holding a sponge and a can of comet.
And what the hell had gotten into Charlie? He’d never looked at her like this before, never. It was one of the things she liked about him, the complete absence of those pork chop looks men have a tendency to give when they were thinking about fucking, and you just happened to be in their line of sight.
He’d always been respectful, a tease, sure, but there had never been anything overtly sexual in it. Now, he was practically sweating pheromones, and she felt sick with nerves as she realized how quickly her hazy, daydream-like attraction to him had morphed into something tangible under his new found attention.
Don’t even start. This is just a bet. Some warped game he’s playing because he’s a man, and I’m a woman, and I walked right into it.
There was a noise in the hall, and guiltily she began to run water for the breakfast dishes. Suddenly she smiled. Man, she w
as an idiot! This was all a gag. Charlie was just playing with her, kidding around. He’d probably worked this joke up to teach her a lesson. He wasn’t the type to lecture against the perils of gambling and looking for an easy way out. Instead he’d come in any minute now laughing and making fun of her.
She grinned as she realized how readily she’d made a fool of herself. She’d never live this down.
He’ll probably crack all sorts of dominant/submissive jokes and tease me about my romance novels coming to life until I want to pop him upside the head. Bossy ass jokester. She decided to play along.
There weren’t many dishes. Soon she started on the counters and stove, her large breasts swaying gently as she reached and rinsed and wiped things down.
“Payday is Friday,” he said suddenly.
Christina jumped, and Charlie watched her body jiggle and settle. Silently she thanked God for her mocha skin tone. Without it she’d have looked like an over ripe cherry about the face and neck.
“Yes, sir,” some imp inside her responded, and she dropped him a rather elegant, naked curtsy.
His nostrils flared, and the corner of his mouth lifted as he stalked closer.
Christina held the sponge in front of herself defensively, actually backing away a step before she realized what she was doing and stopped. He was so close she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, but she held his gaze, teeth nibbling nervously at her full upper lip.
“When you’re done here, come into the office and straighten up my files,” he said, eyeing her captive lip thoughtfully before he turned to go.
Christina thought seriously about pitching the sponge at the back of his head, but instead she softly called his name.
“Yes?” he asked as quietly, staring her in the eye after a quick up and down perusal.
“At the end of the week I expect to be paid in cash.”
He grinned. “Of course.”
Now he’ll come back and laugh in my face, telling me what a fool I am.
She stood there, waiting, her smile slowly fading when she didn’t hear the hardwood floor creak beneath his loafers. Nothing happened at all, and Christina huffed irritably. How long was he going to keep this up? Could he possibly be serious? He couldn’t. Could he?
Stumped, and without a reasonable alternative, she continued her work. She swept the kitchen floor, wiped down the range hood and tightened the lid on the apricot jam he’d left out before she put it back in the fridge.
There was no sign of a mop. The inside of the oven didn’t look as though he’d actually used it, and the mostly empty refrigerator was tidy inside and out. He’d told her to do his files next, but she hesitated to go in while he was on the phone. She’d tackle the bathroom. That’s what maids did most.
“May as well earn my fee,” she muttered.
Yes, the bathroom was close enough. Cleaning it brought her within eye and ear shot of his office. No longer completely convinced this was a joke, Christina didn’t want to give Charlie any reason to do anything more to her than what he’d already done.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew she was talking herself out of following his instructions, but she rationalized that he’d never liked being interrupted while he worked. The specialized finance work he did was private, for high security, high stakes business clients. No, the bathroom was the next best chore to tackle…
The Hick and the Hippie
The cabbie seemed to have picked up some of Xander’s urgency as he rolled high speed toward downtown. He leaned over the steering wheel, changed lanes without signaling and muttered as though every close call with his fellow automobiles was a personal affront to his rather ragged bit of yellow and white metal. Perhaps too quickly, they stopped.
“This you?” she asked, looking up at the elegant brownstone off Oak Street.
“Yeah, the top. I rent out the bottom.” Xander gave the driver enough bills to have the man spring up from his seat to unload their luggage from the trunk, leaving him to haul her up the front walk.
She stole one glimpse of his quiet, tree-lined street, luxury cars gleaming against well swept curbs. Then she was in a dimly lit hall, and he’d tossed his bag and her suitcase and purse aside.
She let her breath go in a rush as he stripped off her trench, and good God. Just that little bit of handling had her clit throbbing. She felt weak. She held up a hand, wanting him to slow down, needing to get her bearings.
“Xander.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “You feel it too. Come with me.”
Lee looked around as he led her through his home. It was neat with dark, masculine furniture and piles of books everywhere. He’d always been a piler, only then it was football equipment or arrangements of empty beer bottles. Now framed movie posters bumped shamelessly against a few really good paintings, and photographs were grouped in random but charming clusters.
His bedroom was large and airy with lots of windows, cream colored walls and a rug that felt soft beneath her shoes.
“You’re curvier now,” he whispered, pulling her onto his lap. His hands stroked her outline appreciatively. “More womanly.”
She shook her head, put her hand flat against his chest, trying to break the spell she was falling into. She tried to focus on something else, anything, and her eyes landed on a beautiful old wood secretaire she recognized. It had been his mother’s. She bit her lip as he yanked her belt free.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress,” he said, pushing the halves of her wrap dress apart.
“You’re a bully,” she said, when he was a tad too rough pulling her close.
“That didn’t hurt,” he scoffed, mouth already searching out one lush nipple.
It hadn’t, but she had to release tension somehow. She shivered as his hand found her other breast.
“Perfect,” he whispered, nuzzling her. “I’ve missed you, Lee Lee.”
He acted like they’d just seen each other last week, but she couldn’t complain. His lips, that nickname, they were ripe with a nostalgia so potent she felt her spine unkink as his hands warmed her skin.
“No panties.” He cupped a hand full of her round bottom. “You’re a bad girl.”
She pouted, turning her head away and gasped as he nipped her ear in punishment. Then he slid in two fingers. They went in easily, her body already preparing itself for his, and he moved them immediately to stroke her clit.
“No,” she said firmly and was ignored. “No,” she said again, quieter. “Xander.” His name was two syllables, the last broken high on the end. When he began to massage her clit more forcefully, she tried to close her thighs against him. When that didn’t work she sank her teeth into his upper arm and groaned when he shivered. “Stop,” she panted, leaning back to slap his face.
He looked up, surprised, but even then his impudent fingers kept rubbing her clit until she pulled his hand away.
They stared at each other, green eyes stroking brown as their hearts took a break from furiously pounding the blood to their limbs. Lee stroked the side of his face, accepting his kiss on her palm as she soothed the area she hadn’t really hurt. Her eyes closed as she savored his heat, his touch, the smell of his skin.
A million “why didn’t you call me’s?!?” bubbled behind her lips, but her body cared nothing for explanations. Later, her brain whispered. Now, her body called, but she tried to move away, to think clearly. He clutched her to him instantly, murmuring so anxiously she gave up and relaxed.
It was strange discovering the passion they’d shared as kids had survived. It was also terribly sexy, easy, despite the uncertainty that lingered, and she wanted more.
It wasn’t like they’d parted acrimoniously. There’d been no big scene, no harsh words or accusations. There was just a kiss and a plane and then, nothing. No calls, no letters, no emails. Nothing. Until now…
How to Love a Blue Demon
“What’s she doing now?”
The prince looked absurdly childish lying on a fur on h
is belly, his strong chin propped on two large hands. His robes hid a tall, impressive body, but emphasized the wide cast of his broad shoulders. The veneer of childishness was enhanced by the way he stared into his Owe crystal for hours, completely absorbed by otherworldly happenings involving his favorite Earth celebrity, Cassidy Dodge.
“Being interviewed by the box people.”
“More TV, sir?”
“Yes, the box people really love her.”
“TV,” his servant corrected gently.
Eyoen nodded, absently opening his mouth to receive one of the pink strita berries a female servant waited patiently to place on his tongue as another woman brushed a thick lock of shiny black hair out of his eye. She’d done the same thing every few minutes for hours and showed no sign of impatience for her repetitive task. Why should she? It was an honor to serve the prince in any capacity he might require.
“I have news, sir.”
“Can it not wait, Rierdane?”
“Of course, sire, but it concerns your request to visit Earth.”
Eyoen turned so quickly, the servant tumbled to the carpet, berries flying in every direction.
To her credit, the female said not a word, merely picked herself up, bowed and helped the other female scoop up the mess before they scuttled out under Rierdane’s laser glare of disapproval.
Eyoen was on his feet, one hand waving at the TV broadcast he was watching to halt it mid word.
“Well?” He put both hands on the shorter man’s shoulders. “What does he say?”
“After much debate, the King has agreed that you may go and view this female you’ve found more closely. Under two conditions.”
Eyoen blinked impatiently, gold eyes flashing as his scowl warned his faithful retainer not to string him along farther.
“You must bring back three lessons to share with the Council.”
Eyoen smiled so big, Rierdane thought emotion might split the prince’s face in two.
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