"Turn around and put your hands on the counter."
She was breathing hard and it took her a moment to process his order. As his intentions registered with her, a lusty grin lit up her face and she tried to give his cock one last squeeze, but he stayed her hand.
"No crushing the jewels," he told her sternly. "In fact, I'm going to dial this down a notch."
"You're killing me here," she whined. "My butt's all ready for you, spank-man. See?" Pilar turned to the counter, yanking up her skirt as she did.
Her bottom was so perfect, so round and heart-shaped. She wore bright red, lacy panties that left nothing to the imagination. Deuce could smell her arousal, his nose twitching pleasantly with the womanly fragrance.
"Take everything off, except the shoes."
Pilar looked over her shoulder and grinned. "I like the way you think."
"I wish you'd said that sooner, rather than arguing over the medical bill." As she put her clothes aside, he held up a hand, feeling a little playful. "No. Put the apron back on. Wear just the apron and shoes."
"Oh my…" she said. "Feeling like spanking June Cleaver, are you?"
He laughed, but followed it with what he hoped was a stern frown. "Go stand in the corner."
A dark eyebrow arched a little higher. "The corner? Why?"
"I'm irritated with you for being so prideful about that bill."
"That again? Okay. I accept your offer. It'll make life easier for my family." She put both hands on her nude hips, framing the incongruous apron. Her breasts jiggled as she moved. "Now will you spank me?"
Although his cock was becoming painful, Deuce wanted to make a point, and he was having fun baiting her. It wasn't noble of him, he knew, but it was harmless and might teach her a thing or two. "No. Go stand in the corner." He tilted his head toward the corner where the refrigerator met the wall.
She stomped a foot. "No!"
"Okay, sugar. Dinner smelled good. Too bad I can't stay to eat…it."
"Don't you dare leave!"
My, my, she was in a mood to get quite a comeuppance. "Are you ordering me again?"
Her gaze went to the bulge in his pants and then back to his face. Her tongue snuck out and slid across her lower lip, but it was obvious she didn't realize what she was doing. "No…I…"
Deuce's erection was killing him, but he went on. "Stop being such a bad girl, Pilar. Go stand in the corner or I'll leave."
Sighing with resignation, she moved to the corner and stood facing it. "Like this?"
"Exactly like that. But put your hands on the back of your head and spread your legs wider."
A flush stole over her body, adding a pink tone to her café au lait skin. "You're trying to humiliate me, aren't you?"
"Embarrass you, yeah. Punish you a bit, yeah. Humiliate you? I like you the way you are. I'm not interested in a doormat."
She wove her fingers together at the back of her head. It was amusing seeing her there with the apron lace framing her hips and its strings hanging down over the crack of her ass. As she slid her legs apart, the shiny lips of her pussy peeked out. Their moisture glinted at him like a wink. He nearly groaned.
"How long do I have to stand here? The enchiladas will be done pretty soon."
Deuce might have some trouble keeping his hands off her, but he looked at his watch and noted the time. "Five minutes. And be quiet. No more talking."
She huffed, but didn't say another word.
By the time the five minutes was up, Deuce thought he might be dying from too much blood to the penis.
"Time's up," he told her. "Go put your hands back on the counter."
She did as he told her, but tried to wheedle. "Deuce…"
"You want somethin', sugar?"
"Come on, Deuce. Spank me. Hard."
He slid his hand over her rump then down between her cheeks and against her soaked pussy. "No."
She groaned and wriggled more. "You're teasing me-ah!" He thrust a finger in her and her body grasped and held tight. He used a second finger. She was tight and hot inside. He wanted his cock in there badly, and her panting was like a seductive siren's song. "Come on, spank-man, do your thing. I'm ready for you!"
He chuckled. She was definitely ready. "Be good, sugar, or there'll be no spankin' or fuckin' tonight."
Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to the counter. "Okay. I'll be good."
"Spread your legs a li'l more." He said it more to make the point that she was to submit to his will than because he wanted to stare at her pussy more, though the sight made him even harder--a thing he wouldn't have thought could be possible.
She obeyed, and he pulled his surprise from his pocket, shaking the short whip out to its full length, about as long as his forearm.
"A whip?" she said with some combination of surprise and wonder as she peered over her shoulder.
"A quirt. Braided leather with a rope core. Two short tails." He stepped back a pace. "My father made it for me for casual horse races in high-school."
"For horses?"
The quirt made a little snapping sound against his pant leg and she flinched. "You want me to ride you like a filly, don't you?"
Once more, that sweet flush crept up her back. "Yes…yes."
Deuce didn't say another word, he pulled back his arm and flicked the tails over her gorgeous ass. They snapped sharply on her flesh and she made a surprised noise. Twice more he flicked it, each stroke getting a little harder.
Pilar cursed in Spanish, but wiggled her butt, asking for more.
"Watch your tongue, woman," he scolded in that same language.
"I'd like to watch my tongue on you, hombre," she said on a moan as the whip struck her again several times.
She was humming with pleasure, and the blows were making her gasp.
"Oh yes," she coaxed.
It didn't take much to encourage him. The whip made raised crescent-shaped welts on her smooth behind. Every mark inflamed her further and she began to cry out, getting louder as he continued to strike her wiggling rear.
When she had a score of perfectly-placed wheals on her butt, Deuce threw the quirt aside and unfastened his belt and pants, letting them hang from his hips as he freed his aching cock.
The cool air on his tortured flesh felt fantastic, but it was something much warmer that he really wanted. Her pussy was so wet it was nearly dripping down her legs. He touched her gently and pushed two fingers deep into her body. Tight muscles welcomed him and Pilar groaned and pressed back against the penetration.
Her voice was thick, her Spanish colloquial. "Fuck me."
"That's what I'm fixin' to do, sugar."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a foil wrapper, opened it and fitted the condom on himself. There was no hesitation between the act and the forceful slide of his cock into her pussy.
"Yes, yes, yes."
"I hear you," he growled, rocking his pelvis to slam himself deeper and harder.
The feeling was intense, and her squirming against him only made it more so.
"Dios," she cried, her little screams of pleasure getting louder. "I'm going to come!"
"Do it, sugar."
Crying out sharply, she arched her rear up and slammed back into his groin. He took the hit, planting his feet more firmly, as all her internal muscles contracted around him rhythmically, calling for his release.
She was gasping and moaning, but he continued to pummel her until she rose on a second wave. Pilar screamed his name and spasmed in pleasure and he finally let himself go, shooting hard into the latex receptacle with a harsh growl.
"Deuce, Deuce, Deuce," she gasped, her voice low and growing softer.
He reached for her hair and gave it a playful little tug, catching his breath. There was a sound from the living room.
"Chica, I think there's someone at your door."
"Oh no!"
Deuce stepped back and slid out of her. It was hard to fathom how much he enjoyed this woman. He might be falling in love w
ith her, and the idea made him uncomfortable. He'd once been in love with Stacy and look how that had worked out.
Scurrying around, Pilar quickly pulled off her apron and threw on her dress, leaving off her underwear for expediency, and smoothed her disheveled hair as she hurried to the door.
Deuce tidied himself up while she dealt with the situation. He could hear her open the front door.
"Sergio! Hi! Um…what's up?"
"Are you okay, Pilar?" The man's voice sounded genuinely concerned. "I thought I heard screams."
"Oh…oh, well I…"
Deuce came out of the kitchen, smiling. "She dropped a pot on her foot," he said, giving the man a look that said, mine, back off.
Sergio didn't buy it for a moment. He looked back at Pilar. "But you're okay?"
"I'm fine. Nothing a little ice won't cure."
He glared at Deuce then smiled at Pilar. "If you need anything, I'm right next door."
Pilar crept the door closed. "Thanks, Sergio. Buenos noches."
"Buenos-" The door closed before he could finish.
Pilar sank back against the door, her eyes closed, a flush on her cheeks. "Oh, God, I'm so embarrassed."
"I guess you don't screw in the kitchen often."
"Never. I've never had a man here at all."
Deuce made a valiant effort to keep both the surprise and delight off his face, but he couldn't help his smug chuckle.
Chapter 4
The alarm clock buzzed and soft rock began to hiss through its speaker. Deuce reached past Pilar's shoulder and turned it off, never ceasing his driving movements within her body. They continued on for several more minutes, in spite of the fact that they both needed to get out of bed and start getting ready for work. Pilar didn't want to stop, even when they were both pleasantly depleted and ready to shower. And that was the problem: she didn't want it to stop. None of it.
They'd spent the last two nights together after their fun with the quirt, and her bottom had a rosy glow nearly the whole time they shared. Deuce appeared to be delighted to accommodate her new-found obsession with being spanked, and she did everything she could think of to encourage him further. But it didn't stop there. She loved his company, his laugh, the way he got serious and thoughtful about his little patients, and his consistently considerate behavior. He was the best man she'd ever had the pleasure to date, and she had to break up with him.
She didn't want things to end like with LeRidell, the Houston Rockets basketball player she'd dated three years prior to meeting Deuce. LeRidell was an extremely conservative fellow, attached to his Baptist church, and an upstanding member of the community. He was considered a fine example to young people who wanted to go into professional sports, and for those who wanted to achieve in any aspect of their lives. He had his face on a cereal box. Basically, LeRidell was a cardboard cutout for "leadership." Pilar fully expected him to run for public office when he retired from basketball.
The thing was, LeRidell hadn't known about Pilar's previous profession. She hadn't kept it a secret; it just never came up. They were together about six months before he found out, and not from a particularly friendly source. A newspaper reporter had seen them out in public somewhere and had dug up information on her. The smear campaign had commenced.
It had been an awful uproar, and she'd been called a sinner and a tart, and much worse. LeRidell had dropped her like a hot rock, apologetic and obviously hurt, but he'd done it nonetheless.
It had been a painful experience. She'd jeopardized the career and civic standing of a man who was genuinely a good person, and, although she'd done it unintentionally, she was still guilty of marring his name for years to come, possibly forever. She hadn't been in love with LeRidell, though maybe it would have gotten there, but she was sensitive to the feelings she had for Deuce. Her decision to give him a taste of her unsavory life on Friday was upon them and she had to stick to it. She wasn't going to tell him the whole truth—why sully his memories of her more than was necessary?—but she was going to tell him something about her brothers. That, by itself, would cause him to shun her. He didn't need to know the rest.
As they were getting dressed, Deuce's phone rang and he answered. Pilar couldn't help but overhear half of the conversation.
"Oh hi, Eddie. How's it goin', big man?" Seeing her watching from across the room, Deuce gave her a weak smile and walked away a few steps. He might not have realized that she could still hear him. Shamelessly, she listened. Pilar remembered that Eddie was the little boy from the photograph in Deuce's living room.
"Yeah, you should bring your glove to the baseball game, but no, not the bat." He paused, listening. "'Cause you won't be battin' any balls. You might catch one if you're lucky though. I got us seats out by the foul line."
Deuce put his wallet and keys into his pockets as he talked to the little boy. "Shouldn't you be on your way to school?" He listened again. "No, I don't want to speak to your mom, buddy." A pause and then, "No, really. I don't need to speak to her."
He groaned softly.
"Hi, Stacy. What's the problem?" He took a few steps, his shoulders tensing visibly. The conversation had become uncomfortable. Obviously, his relationship with his ex was strained, though the boy—his son?—got a much better reception. "God, Stacy, don't you ever give up?" He glanced over at Pilar and she quickly started pawing through her purse. "Now is not a good time. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll talk then."
Pilar's heart sank even while flames sprung up in her body. He was still seeing his ex. Maybe she wasn't really his "ex." Maybe she was his "sometimes." Who was this Stacy woman, and what did Deuce think he was doing? Pilar's resolve to make this their day to split became stronger.
Deuce walked over to her, his phone safely in his pocket, and rubbed her back, kissing her ear. "Lunch today, sugar?"
It would be the perfect time to tell him. He couldn't stick around and belabor her or make her feel worse than she already did. "Okay."
"I'll meet you at The Grove at noon."
"Sure. I'll be there."
They both headed for Deuce's front door. "I'm looking forward to it," he told her.
"Yeah. Me, too."
* * *
The Grove was a bistro-style restaurant attached to the Magnolia Hotel, downtown. It was a few blocks away from both Deuce's office and Pilar's, not far from the Market Square Historic District. Their outdoor patio was a place to see and be seen among society Houstonites, but Pilar suspected that their great mussels muniere was the primary reason Deuce picked them among all the downtown restaurants within walking distance from their respective offices. She'd been there with LeRidell, but not since. It made her uncomfortable, and she tried to act nonchalant as she waited for Deuce to arrive.
She was ten minutes early, and it gave her time to think about what she was about to do. Her mind wandered to their meeting and the laughter they'd shared while in Jamaica. Remembering the first spanking he'd administered to her gave her goose bumps. Snippets of songs they'd danced to flittered quickly through her memories, and the past few nights they'd had together became an ache in her belly. She'd never experience those moments of sweet contentment again.
The pillow talk before and after their lovemaking gave them new opportunities to share their lives. Just the night before, they'd spent an hour talking about childhood memories, of bullies and third-grade best friends, and how important their families had been to them as children. It was a magical time for her and Deuce together, and though she knew it had been a perfect opportunity to tell him about her brothers, she couldn't do it. It would have ended everything at exactly the wrong time. She wanted those last few hours and this morning's lovemaking. She needed those moments to take with her and help lighten the dark void she was about to step into.
But she couldn't avoid it any longer. He was in danger around her. Knowledge of her background would dent his career severely, perhaps derail it entirely. It wasn't fair to do that to him. He was too good a person, and she cared about him
too deeply to selfishly continue things.
Deuce got to her table and she turned her face up for his kiss, enjoying the lingering taste of his lips and tongue. Her body got warm, especially the core of her, where he touched her in their private moments; touched her both physically and emotionally.
Grinning, he sat across from her. "Sorry I'm late, sugar. Mrs. Cartwright's little girl had another mystery spell and her mama needed a little handholding on the phone."
Pilar felt the tightness of her answering smile and told herself to relax, deal with it, get it over with. "That's no problem, Deuce. People need you. I totally understand."
He put his napkin in his lap and reached for her hand where it rested on the table. "You're a balm to a harried man, Pilar."
It made her feel like even more of a heel and she pulled her hand away, putting it in her lap. She could see his slight frown from beneath the fan of her lashes.
"What's wrong, sugar? Having a tough day?"
"I…"
The waiter took that moment to approach and take their orders. The opportunity to smoothly deliver her message to Deuce passed. They ate and chatted about the morning, until he brought up their evening plans. He had a speaking engagement that night, but would be home around ten o'clock, he told her as he fished his keys out of his pocket.
Deuce worried a key off his chain and put it on the table between them. "Here. Meet me at my house tonight, sugar. 'Bout ten."
She stared at the key. No way could she take it, though her hands itched to pick it up and tuck it safely away in her purse. "No. I can't."
His voice was soft, encouraging. "Of course you can. I don't mind. I trust you, Pilar."
It was about the worst thing he could have said to her. Her mind went blank for a full minute as she stared at the key.
"Sugar, what's wrong? You've been quiet all through lunch." He pushed the key toward her. "Take it. I won't need it; you can let me in when I get home."
Her gaze dropped to her half-full plate. She hadn't eaten much, but what had gone in was churning around in her belly like curdled milk. Pilar was so focused on her misery that she jumped when a waiter dropped a fork on the floor nearby.
Deuce's Dancer Page 5
