Innocent Corruption
Larissa Lyons
*MAD*WARNING* If you like your encounters hot an’ against the wall and without unnecessary foreplay (Names? Who needs ’em?) this story’s for you. Mature audiences only!
He lurks in the shadows, waiting, watching. Keeping himself apart. Not intentionally of course, it’s just who he is, what life has made him—gritty, suspicious and hard. Definitely hard for the root beer-and-rum swigging, sinfully dressed sweetheart who’s just edged up to the bar. He wants her and he’s a man used to taking anything he desires.
*MAD*FACTS* 3000 words • Contemporary Erotica • Sex with Strangers. AWARDED ~ Hot New Erotic Voice, 2008 BetterSex.com Erotic Fiction Contest.
Innocent Corruption
Published by:
www.LiteraryMadness.com
Innocent Corruption Copyright Larissa Lyons, 2011
All rights reserved, including the right to decide how to market this book. By law, no part of this publication may be copied, uploaded or illegally transferred. Please respect the efforts of this author and only read authorized, purchased downloads. All characters are fictional creations; any resemblance to actual persons is unintentional and coincidental.
Unedited, shorter version of Innocent Corruption first published on BetterSex.com.
Edited by Elizabeth St. John
Cover by Amanda Kelsey of Razzle Dazzle Design
Electronic publication: August 2011
ISBN 978-0-9834711-3-4 (ePub)
At Literary Madness, we strive to create a book free of typos. If you notice an error, we’ll happily correct it. Thank you.
[email protected]
Innocent Corruption is dedicated to Martin, a cyber friend who proved to be one of the best supporters a fledging new author could have hoped for. Thanks, Marty! :-) Larissa
Before you get all hot and bothered…
PLEASE READ
This erotic story is for your reading enjoyment but please remember: Erotic fantasies are just that—fantasies of sexual exploration in situations that aren’t always attempting to portray real life or safe sex.
These fictional characters are not intended to be an example of proper behavior. Outside the pages of a book, where sexual actions have consequences beyond the moment of climax, it is vital to behave responsibly, incorporating safe-sex practices (including condoms, proper lubrication and regular testing) along with heartfelt communication before engaging in any sexual activity.
So be smart and act responsibly in the real world. Always practice safe sex. Live to love—and orgasm—another day.
Innocent Corruption
Donovan’s. A swanky, inner-city club that catered to carnal appetites. Sexual fantasies and taboos. Voyeuristic tendencies. Erotic exploration…anal penetration.
As a female with very little knowledge of anything beyond mundane missionary, I’d obsessed over thoughts of Donovan’s with excessive frequency, especially considering the desert wasteland of my sex life.
For months, my circle of sexually candid friends had regaled me with stories of the place—wild, uninhibited orgies, bondage scenarios and titillating fantasies acted out in real time.
Rife with curiosity, I’d nevertheless forced myself to stay away. Twenty-seven years of organized religion preaching hell and damnation—or in my case, abstination—wasn’t easy to overcome, but the recent demise of my four-year marriage to a conservative fundamentalist had left me burgeoning with curiosity…and a hell of a lot of unfulfilled sexual urges.
Once my divorce was final, I casually ferreted out the practical details from my friends, so I knew that Tuesday was the most sedate night the club was open. I knew to take a cab, where to request the driver let me out, and exactly how to approach the risqué club’s camouflaged entrance.
I also knew to arrive after ten and to dress conservatively sexy, as opposed to wearing outright fuck-me-now attire.
No sense getting mistaken for a hooker by the Dallas PD.
Once inside, I paid the $69 cover charge—unoriginal, but still so image provoking—and checked my coat and purse. The cover was good for not only the open bar but also provided me with access to all of the club’s various amenities.
Heart pounding like a runaway race horse, I wiped my sweating palms down my figure-hugging red velvet sheath. Quickly bypassing the lower floors that housed the private rooms I’d heard contained harnesses, swings and other hard-core sexual equipment and paraphernalia I probably wouldn’t recognize, and certainly wouldn’t know how to use, I made my way to the upper bar, located on the entire third floor.
The moment I stepped off the elevator, I was enveloped by the ambience emanating from the spacious, inky interior. Black leather, glowing red lights and the scent of sex dominated my senses. Soft progressive jazz played in the background, the soulful music overridden by the muted sound of intense groans and occasional whimpers radiating from the cavernous room’s even darker edges.
The giant area was nothing more than a profusion of shadows and infrequently lit patches of bare skin. Recessed bulbs shone down from the ceiling in tiny spotlights, illuminating various parts of the floor and its inhabitants. My gaze was drawn to each illicit, visible sphere.
A smooth, naked thigh… A vermillion sofa cushion… An arched back… An unoccupied leather chair… A stiletto-heeled foot—gouging into a muscled ass.
With every covert glimpse, my arousal grew.
Now what?
I hadn’t thought beyond actually getting here. Though I’d spent hours, if not days, contemplating what I might find upon my arrival and how I might react, I wasn’t planning anything too adventurous my first time out. The excitement that gripped me as I headed to the long bar flanking one entire wall was two parts fear, four parts desire and a crapload of what-the-hell-am-I-doing?
I approached the least populated area—three lone barstools, backless and awaiting habitation at the far end of the bar. I took possession of the middle one, sliding onto the padded, black suede seat and found myself gently lit from the crimson bulb shining directly overhead.
I asked if they carried Captain Morgan’s and root beer, my favorite alcoholic concoction since trying it once in college, absurdly pleased at the idea of having it again. When the solemn-faced and silent bartender handed it over and retreated, as though his sole job—other than bringing drinks—was to blend in and disappear, I eagerly sipped the rich beverage while my gaze sought out the other patrons.
Unlike myself, everyone appeared to be with a partner—or several. I watched as, barely ten feet away, a woman pushed her dress to her hips and two men lavished attention on her exposed breasts. Even though I’d expected the sensual sights and atmosphere, the more my astonished eyes took in, the more my body responded.
The woman’s fingers coiled into the men’s hair, holding them close to her chest. Her loud moans of pleasure went straight to my pelvis, and the muscles in my vagina clenched, ready for a man’s solid erection.
Pinpricks of awareness raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I reluctantly shifted my attention from the threesome, unerringly focusing my gaze on the man my body had already responded to. He sat behind the bar, alone in the corner, lost in the shadows save for the banked power I sensed. The energy he radiated toward me.
He wasn’t dressed like the other bartenders, in their unremarkable long-sleeved black shirts. He wasn’t surveying the club clientele, as though taking a short break, ready to return to work at a moment’s notice. He was staring straight at me.
Once our gazes connected through the faint light, he immediately saluted me with the drink he held. A flash of white slashed across his mouth, indicating a brief smile.
This is what I’d come for, I reminded myself,
and returned the salute with my own glass, hearing the ice clink hollowly inside. A turbulent protest started in my stomach, but I refused to lower my gaze. Maintaining eye contact with anyone required effort, but while at Donovan’s—a club whose sole purpose was to provide an environment for willing participants to fulfill their sexual fantasies—it was practically impossible. But I made myself do it.
I’d entered this club for a reason, and my body was determined to see it through, even as my rational mind panicked. Seeing the tall man gracefully relinquish his seat in the corner, place his empty glass on the edge of the bar and pause, the hard set of his jaw asking a question without saying a word, I made up my mind—the sex was free and I was ready to be easy.
And he was the one I wanted.
Dark hair ruthlessly scraped-back. Dangerous glint in his narrowed eyes. Devil-may-care lift to his chin as he ate up the distance between us, advancing like a sleek panther closing in on its prey. Everything about him attracted me immensely. He was so different from the staid, conventional man I’d married right out of college.
When I failed to blink or look away, failed to scurry to safety, the intimidating stranger came directly to my side, his intense gaze anchoring me in place. Up close, I saw that his black hair was tied back at his nape. A single rebellious section fell forward to his jaw, the ends pointing out that he needed a shave.
Dark, dangerous and fixated on me.
I gave him a tremulous smile, both nervous and flattered but not sure how to proceed. Do I ask his name? Tell him mine? Or confess I’d never done this before and get the heck out of Dodge?
I needn’t have worried. His large hand curved around my nape and he tipped my head up as his mouth came down, claiming me. His firm lips caressed mine and his tongue pushed inside to glide between my teeth. The agile tip tantalized the roof of my mouth and fed my starved senses. He tasted of rye whiskey…and root beer? Or was that just me?
A groan escaped his throat, and I realized my fingers had already worked their way past the placket of his shirt and were caressing the smooth-as-marble chest beneath. His tongue stopped teasing and dove deep, consuming me.
The yearning centered between my thighs escalated. I craved his touch on my bare skin. I felt like a wicked wanton and I loved it, even more when, without breaking the kiss, he gripped my waist and lifted me off the barstool. He hauled me against his raging erection and took long strides away from the bar.
I tore at the buttons on his shirt, wrenching the fabric apart. A few steps later, my back slammed into a wall, the abrupt contact jarring. I didn’t care.
His shirt was open and I ran my hands over a gym-sculpted chest, raking his skin with my nails. He raised my dress, yanked my panties to the side and hiked one of my legs over his arm, spreading my labia wide. Fresh arousal pooled between my thighs, making me ache anew. His teeth closed around my bottom lip and he sucked the tender flesh into his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth over his captive. When I moaned, he released my lip and thrust his tongue against mine, using rolling, sensuous glides that caused my clit to swell and peak.
I wiggled in his arms, trying to reach his pants, but he’d beaten me to it. His knuckles grazed my damp curls as he released himself then teased me with the crown of his cock. Brushing lightly along my wet folds, he wedged himself between, circled once then hovered at the entrance. Threatening intrusion, promising satisfaction. The barely there touch stole my reserve and a needy-sounding whimper emerged.
Breathing heavily, he slid his tongue from my mouth and nibbled at my lips.
“Yes?” he queried harshly, asking unnecessarily for permission.
I knew this was wrong, what we were doing, according to every religious tenet I’d been taught. But I’d long suspected the right man, in the right circumstances, could have me sinning with ease and repenting not at all.
It was obvious he’d done this before. In fact, he looked like the kind of guy who’d done hard time. Hmm. Maybe, after years of wholesome living, it was my turn to get off on bad behavior?
Relishing the naughty direction of my thoughts, I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I wrapped my arms behind his back and grabbed his ass, urging him forward. Without hesitation, his immense erection penetrated my drenched channel. He breached past my thirsting entrance and lunged deep.
I swallowed a scream. The walls of my vagina rejoiced as they stretched, and stretched again, to accommodate his breadth. Wider than I’d expected, harder than I’d hoped for, his cock was the answer to every unspoken prayer I’d had this year.
Hallelujah! I didn’t know whether to shout it out loud or simply sink down and allow my body to sing for me. The decision was made when the muscles in my pussy slackened then tensed, contracting around his hard flesh, pulling him higher into my passage.
Rough fingers gripped my bottom and lifted me, sliding me along the lengthy pole of his shaft. Then his hands guided me down firmly, enabling me to ride him with ease. I clasped his cock with my inner muscles and worked them violently; the action further increased the sensations bombarding my nerve endings.
He rammed far inside, thumping my back against the wall, plunging in so deep and so fast I curled my legs around his waist, hanging on for the ride of my life. He leaned back, found my eyes in the dim light and gave me a half smile, one that hinted of a curious combination—that of divine retribution. So he sought to punish me with passion?
Whether redemption loomed, or just a damn great orgasm, I knew I wouldn’t regret a minute of tonight. Not ever.
He held my gaze for long seconds before he bent his head, taking my lips again, this time in a bruising, heart-stopping kiss. His amazing tongue worked magic in my mouth, cast a spell upon my body. My need for him soared. Abandoning any semblance of dignity, I humped his cock…milking it…wanting everything he had.
The spasmic ripples of my impending release caught me by surprise. No! Not yet! I needed my foray into the sensual side of sin to last longer, but my damned hips flailed within his grip, rotating my pussy around the root of his penis and grinding my clit into his pubic hair. God. The ache. The rapturous joy. I was devoured by it, unable to think beyond this second.
His fingers pulled my butt cheeks apart and dipped toward the crevice of my ass, taunting that virgin territory. My feminine muscles convulsed around his shaft, and I climaxed so hard that I squealed around his tongue and nearly passed out from lack of air, judging by the black demons dancing behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut and sagged against him.
Eyelids fluttering, lips quivering beneath his, every voluntary motion of my body ceased and I hung limply in his arms as he pounded into me. My sheath pulsed from my orgasm, and my anus automatically angled toward his tormenting fingertips, indulgently seeking more of that hedonistic touch.
His thrusts changed tempo and he tore his mouth from mine to plant it on my neck. He sucked hard, pulling my skin into the heated cavern. My hands released his shoulders and tangled in his overlong hair, tugging sharply on the thick strands. In seconds, he’d built such a violent need in me, one that clawed at my insides for liberation.
I squirmed in his hold and came again, just as I felt his cock lurch even higher and spill his seed, baptizing my inner walls with his release. My loud breaths rasped over his ear, which I licked once…twice, still reveling in the solid feel of a strong male pleasuring my starved body.
He released my neck, stroked his tongue over the sensitive skin he’d recently bruised, and focused on my eyes once more. The piercing look he gave me went straight to my soul. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
I was supposed to talk? After such a momentous experience? With lips gone numb, I garbled out, “I’m new. To this—not sex…but the club…” I faltered under his severe, satisfied gaze. Licking my tingling lips, I attempted to speak more coherently. “I’m new to Donovan’s.”
His erection flexed inside me. Still hard. Still impressive. I hungered for it again.
“The moment I heard you order rum
and root beer,” he said in a husky rumble that shivered past my ears and tumbled me toward any abyss of his making, “I knew you were the one I’ve been waiting for.”
“The one?” Why did I feel so out of my element? As though I hurtled toward hell but felt angels lifting me up? “Waiting for what?”
With a long slow glide, he eased his cock from me. His length scraped rawly against my abraded walls and I flinched, the exquisite sensation unbearable. I felt so tender and exposed. Even as I panted for him, I knew my body was too fragile, too brittle for more. I couldn’t fathom experiencing anything else tonight.
His strong hands slid over my buttocks. One gripped my flesh, supporting my weight, the other came between us. Dipping one finger into the hollow of my recently vacated core, he said, “I’ve done it all before and it gets old. Mundane, almost. Now I prefer to wait, to let my urges simmer…for when my interest is peaked by a special someone.”
“Me? Special?” Breathless, I watched in wonder as he withdrew his saturated finger from my slit and brought it to my lips, spreading my essence over my mouth. The pungent scent wafted toward my nose.
“Ummm.” He removed his finger, placed it at his own lips, and then licked it clean while staring into my eyes. At each long stroke of his tongue, I imagined him licking me, diving into my swollen sex and bathing it with his mouth. A fresh rush of desire dampened my passage. Whether I was ready for more or not, my newly awakened body clamored for his decadent attentions, for anything he might want to do to me.
“Yes, you, special,” he confirmed with a seductive smile, the first authentic one he’d given me. “Red dress—my favorite color. Root beer and hard liquor—my favorite drink. Tight, hot pussy—my favorite kind of woman.”
“Wow.” I wasn’t used to guys this incredibly sexy speaking to me like this. Instinctively, I tightened my legs around his waist, unwilling to let him go.
“I want you again,” he said decisively. “This time on a bed. Next time in a swing. The time after that, blindfolded.”
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