IcySeduction

by Shara Lanel

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” she said in between hard breaths. “Oh my God, I’ve never come so hard in my life.”

  “You’re going to crave it now.”

  “I know, and that scares me.”

  “It scares me too. Insanely.” Because she was going back to Florida, miles and miles away from him. This was the first time he felt trapped by his responsibility to his son. He couldn’t have this kind of sex when Dean was in the apartment, and he couldn’t have Christine while he was in New York. Yeah, it scared him because he didn’t think he could live without doing this again.

  After he untied Christine, he told her to lie on her stomach so he could rub some baby oil on her butt.

  She laughed. “That’s not necessary.”

  “No, seriously. I want to make sure you’re okay.” She consented and he slowly massaged the oil onto her pink skin. Of course, he was starting to get hard again, but she had a plane to catch. “How does that feel?”

  “Nice.”

  “Think you’ll be able to sit on the plane for a couple hours?”

  “Ooh, hadn’t thought about that.” She rolled over and sat up. “But I think I’ll be okay.”

  * * * * *

  He drove Christine to the airport. It was a bit of a drive to Newark, so they talked a little about common things like TV and movies. She enjoyed a wide range of genres, from stupid comedy to deep artsy films, from sweet family shows to the latest edgy cable show. He wasn’t that fond of artsy films. He liked movies that made him laugh and where he didn’t have to think too hard, not because he thought the meaning would go over his head but because he didn’t want to deal with meaning when chilling in front of the TV.

  She rode up with him in the front seat, which felt odd since he was so used to his fares sitting in the back. They held hands except when driving was too complicated, like the stop-and-go in the tunnel. They didn’t discuss what had happened in his bedroom but the tension hung between them. He recited street names in his head to keep from getting hard. When he dropped her off at the terminal, she pecked him on the cheek. She promised to find him on Facebook, but he certainly couldn’t post on her timeline. He watched her gorgeous ass within tight jeans as she disappeared into the terminal. Then he closed his eyes, lost in the memory of that afternoon, and didn’t even try to get rid of his hard-on.

  Someone opened the back door to his cab. “We’d like to go to Grand Central, please.” It was a nicely dressed older man and his wife. Their clothes and their airs suggested money.

  “Gotcha.” As long as they were belted in the back, they wouldn’t see the tent in his pants. They talked about where they were from, Chicago, and what to see in New York, until he finally pulled up in front of Grand Central Station. He helped them with their luggage and climbed back into his cab. This time he made sure to turn on the “Not In Service” light. From there he drove around until he found a fairly deserted street, not wanting to take the time to go back to his apartment and risk running into Dean. He double-parked, unzipped his pants and pulled out his semi-erect cock. He touched it lightly at first, picturing Christine’s body after he’d cut off her panties and bra. Next time he would gag her as well. He pictured her face, blindfolded and gagged, enough to make precum appear on the head of his cock. He gripped his cock firmly in his hand and stroked, slow, slow. Then he pictured her red butt as he’d flogged her. The sound as she came, the shudders of her body after release. He moved his hand harder and faster. Someone was walking toward him on the street, but he didn’t stop. The walker drew level, glanced at him and continued walking. God, Jake needed to get back to work, pick up some fares, but he had to jerk off first. His right hand slid up and down with little squeezes while he lowered his left hand to his balls. They were quite warm with pubic hair all touching his wrist as he lifted and played with them.

  “God!” he grunted and looked down at his moving hand, his flushed cock, the glistening on the tip. There would be no way to keep the cum off his clothes unless he caught it in his hand. He imagined being in a movie theater with Christine and ordering her to suck him off during the movie. Oh God, he had to have her again. He had to work out his fantasies with her. He had to redden her bottom while her arms were stretched upward by a chain attached to the ceiling. He had to shove toys in every orifice of her body, her ass, her cunt, her mouth, so that she knew she was his.

  He came, shouting loud enough that a lady coming out of a nearby building looked over at him. He knew she could tell what he was doing, because her face reddened before she turned and walked the other way. His hand filled with hot cum, which he used to lubricate his dick as he squeezed out every bit of pleasure.

  “Holy fuckin’ shit.” Would the fantasy of her sustain him until he saw her again? Would he see her again? And, God, should he be scared of the things he wanted to do to her?

  * * * * *

  Christine dashed into the airport bathroom. A woman was drying her hands, then left with her purse and carry-on bag. No one else in there. Christine closed herself in one of the stalls and unzipped and pulled down her pants as if she was going to the bathroom. But that wasn’t what she had in mind. Since all she could think about was Jake and the things they’d done together—her sore ass a not-so-subtle reminder—she had to touch herself or go mad. She again felt the silky blindfold on her face as she closed her eyes. The bathroom stall bounced sound around in an odd way, so she tried not to make any noise no matter how good it felt to fantasize about him. She glided her middle finger along her slit, sliding the folds open. She pressed on the hood of her clit and started a circling motion.

  Did she have something she could fuck herself with? She unzipped her carry-on with her free hand and shuffled her clothes around until she found her thick-handled hairbrush. She gripped the end with the bristles in her left hand, then slowly eased the handle into her body. She never stopped stroking her clit. It felt so damn good. She remembered being twisted up on her side as he flogged her. She’d never wanted him to stop. She imagined other things he could hit her with—a tennis racket, a switch, his hand, ping-pong paddles. She pushed the brush handle in as far as it would go, then started working it in and out and around in a circle. It wasn’t as thick as the vibrator had been or Jake’s dick, therefore not quite as satisfying, but she was making herself feel good, real good, so she couldn’t stop the moan even as she heard the restroom door open. Click, click, and the woman opened the stall next to her. Christine listened to the sounds of her lowering her pants and peeing, but she didn’t stop bringing herself closer and closer to orgasm.

  “Uh.” She moaned again, long and low. Next door the sound of loosening toilet paper stopped. She knew that the other woman had heard her and that turned her on even more. A breathy moan escaped her lips as she pressed on her clit in a circle faster and faster. Good, good, damn good, and knowing the other woman hadn’t left the stall and hadn’t moved at all—she had to be listening—that turned Christine on even more. The brush moved faster, her finger moved faster. She grew tighter and tighter and louder and louder…

  And came. “Ahhh. Oh my God. Nnn. Fuckin’ good.” She pulled the brush out and slipped it back in her suitcase as she continued to stroke herself, lighter and slower. “Mmm.” God damn, she couldn’t believe what she’d done and how out of control she’d let herself get. There was no sound coming from the other stall. She peeked just low enough to see if feet were in there. They were—strappy red heels—but in a second, she heard the door unlatch and the click of the shoes as the woman walked to the sink. Christine put herself back together and finally left her stall. She met the woman’s eyes in the mirror. There was a bit of shock but no judgment there.

  “How could you keep going, knowing someone could hear you?” she asked.

  “That made it better.” And she couldn’t believe this was true!

  The woman’s puckered nipples pressed against the thin fabric of her blouse as she turned to face Christine. “It turned me on, listening to you.”

&n
bsp; “I’m glad.”

  “I’ve never been turned-on by a woman before.”

  “Me neither.” She glanced at her watch as she washed her hands. “Oh shit, I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t get down to my gate ASAP.”

  “Oh okay.” The woman stared at her as she left the restroom. Christine could feel it. Man, if she hadn’t needed to catch her flight, she might’ve offered that woman more, and that thought scared her. Impulsively she turned back, slid her hand up the woman’s blouse seeking her breast and leaned toward her with an open mouth. The woman came closer and their lips met as Christine found the soft flesh of her breast mounded above an underwire and tucked behind two layers of fabric. She pressed her palm in and rubbed as she dashed her tongue into the woman’s mouth. The stranger moaned, her tongue seeking and dancing around Christine’s. They sucked on each other for a moment more before Christine stepped back, releasing her. “My flight,” she murmured. The lady nodded, mouth still open, lipstick smudged.

  Christine rushed through to the gate then, carry-on in tow. Her panties were wet and her nipples were hard. “Jesus Christ, what is the matter with me?” She needed to get home and back to her normal boring life and not think about kissing that woman ever again, not think about Jake beating her until she came ever again. She needed to erase the memory of the most intense pleasure she’d ever had before it made her do something she would truly regret.

  Chapter Four

  Jake told Saron about the mind-meld thing, leaving everything else out. He couldn’t stop thinking about Christine, like an obsession, and he didn’t know if that was because she was his mate—which seemed unreal no matter what they’d done together—or because they’d had mind-blowing sex. He wasn’t sure how to ask Saron about that, so he started with the shocking mind-meld.

  The older man regarded him across the coffee shop table. “You’re awfully young to have found someone.”

  “Young? I’m thirty-two.”

  “Exactly.” Saron sipped his coffee. He looked like a distinguished businessman in a tailored suit with silver streaks in his hair just above his ears. “Most of us go through several relationships before we find our mates, which is usually after age forty, sometimes as late as fifty.”

  “But then wouldn’t you be, you know, past the age to reproduce?”

  “No. We live much longer than humans. How old do you think I am?”

  Jake regarded his mentor. Though he’d say the man had an old soul, he wasn’t past middle age. “Hmm, fifty-five-ish.”

  He smiled, highlighting light wrinkles around his eyes. “No, I’m eighty-one.”

  “What?” Sometimes it was hard to tell in this town with its easy access to Botox and plastic surgeons, but Jake would have never estimated Saron over sixty.

  “That’s why a human-were relationship is so rare. The human will always die first and the body will be far more aged.”

  Jake pictured a slightly aged version of himself in bed with an eighty-year-old woman. Okay, that freaked him out a bit. “So you think she’s not my mate, then?”

  “Oh from what you’ve told me, she is.”

  “What do I do? What if I don’t want to be with her when she looks like a grandmother and I look like a man in my prime?” He knew it sounded superficial but it was a realistic consideration.

  “Since you come from a human-were relationship yourself, you may have a shorter lifespan than others of our kind.”

  “Well, all right then.” Yeah, he sounded more than a little sarcastic. Could his life never just be simple?

  “The thing to understand is that you can’t fight it. You are mates, so all you’re going to want is her. You’ll go mad the longer you are apart. And I’ve got to warn you because I went through this myself, if you try to make love to someone else, you won’t be able to perform, and let me tell you, it’s damn embarrassing.” Wow, Saron was actually blushing a bit. Poor man.

  “Why didn’t you and Eve just get right together?” Eve, Saron’s wife, was a willowy, outdoorsy woman who appeared to be no older than forty-five. Jake had never seen her outside the compound.

  Saron glanced out the storefront window onto the busy New York sidewalk. He turned back to Jake with a faint smile on his face. “A story for another time. Just trust me on this.”

  Jake shook his head. “Christine lives in Florida and my son is here in New York. I can’t pull up stakes and take Dean away from his mother.” Not that she spent much time with him, but Jake thought Dean wouldn’t like being kept away from her. He’d raise holy hell to leave his school too, no doubt.

  “Can Christine live up north?”

  “Her family’s upstate, but I can’t imagine she’d just pull up stakes. Maybe I should give her space for a while and get to know her long distance.”

  “You can try, but I seriously doubt it’ll work.”

  “Will she feel connected to me in the same way or is this all one-sided?”

  “It will be less pronounced, but you will become an obsession for her, and that feeling will grow the longer you’re apart.”

  “So it’s not just during sex? I haven’t really felt connected with her since I dropped her at the airport.”

  “Sex makes it the easiest to connect, physical proximity and a common goal, so to speak.” His eyes danced and perhaps he was thinking about Eve. “But that’s just the beginning, trust me.”

  Once Jake left Saron, he walked briskly until he found his cab. On the way, he tried to take it all in. He still had many questions about this mate thing. Did they need to get married? How soon would kids be expected? Would that become a compulsion as well? How would he explain things to Dean, and would Dean want a sibling who would be so much younger than him?

  Jake knew he couldn’t move his son out of state but there was no reason he couldn’t visit Christine. Did he need to have some extraneous excuse for the reason he was coming down there so she didn’t feel stalked? Or could he just say he’d missed her and had to see her?

  Or should he see if what Saron said about sex with someone else was true? To see how trapped he truly was. He thought he liked Christine’s personality from the short time between sex, but that wasn’t the same as knowing a person day in and day out. He had a divorce that proved that truth. He wished he could have asked Saron about the bondage and domination thing. Was this normal for a mated couple or just his own inclination? He had the feeling it was just him, which scared the shit out of him. He’d never been able to ask anyone about his fantasies. Guys just didn’t share that way.

  Jake needed to pick up Dean, so he closed out all his mental turmoil in order to be a good father. Dean had been staying after school to help with the sets for the school play. He got tremendous stage fright just from doing a report in front of his class, so he never had any desire to claim the spotlight, but he liked to paint. Any type of art, really. His room was full of finished and half-finished projects—paintings on the easel and in his portfolio, sculptures on the worktable and shelves, and a computer to work on graphic art projects. Jake was unbelievably proud of him and wanted to do everything he could afford to support Dean’s aptitude. He only wished he could afford more, but just keeping him in private school was tough. Unfortunately, in New York, he felt private school was a necessity.

  “Hey, Dad,” Dean said as he slipped into the front seat of the cab. He’d just had a growth spurt but maintained the fiftieth percentile in height and weight, a good place to be according to his pediatrician. His voice was deepening, his hair hung over one eye and touched his shoulders and so far, he’d managed to avoid acne. Jake had had a nightmare of a time with acne and braces during seventh and eighth grades. He was so glad Dean would be spared the drama because his son was just starting to notice girls.

  “Hey. How was school and did you have fun at your mom’s?” After Dean buckled up, Jake pulled out into traffic.

  “Same old, same old.”

  “For which?”

  “Both.”

  “Homewor
k?”

  Jake missed his son’s eye roll but guessed it from the tone of his voice. “Geez, Dad, let me chill first. And before you ask, the sets rock and drama teach is juiced about them.”

  Jake wondered if he should mention Christine. He tried to keep an open relationship with his son, age appropriately, of course. “I met someone this weekend.”

  Dean gave him a sidewise glance. “She’s not at the apartment, is she?”

  “No, she lives in Florida actually. She was visiting her parents upstate.”

  “How did you meet her, then?”

  “She paid me an awful lot to drive her to see them. Her plane came in way late and her parents couldn’t meet her.” He tried to keep any giveaway inflection out of his voice. He certainly didn’t want to share details about his sex life with his son.

  “So you had a long time to talk.” He seemed to put an odd emphasis on “talk”, but Jake decided to ignore it.

  “Yeah, plus I hit black ice and slid off the road, so we had to walk.”

  “Geez, was she pissed?”

  “She handled it amazingly well. Anyway…” He wondered how to say this and not sound mental. “I might want to visit her in Florida.”

  “Fast moves, Dad.”

  He smiled, then shook his head at the person trying to flag him down from the curb. She must not have noticed the “Off Duty” light on top. “So I’m going to call your mom when we get home and see if you can stay there for a few days…not sure when exactly. Maybe next week?”

  “I can stay in the apartment by myself.”

  “Hell no.” Not only was this the city, Jake didn’t want Dean to explore the apartment and find some adult stuff he wouldn’t and shouldn’t understand at his age. “It’s just a couple extra stops to get to school from your mom’s.”