Body Talk

by Cara Bristol

  Mary Sue sat up again and trailed her fingers the length of his shaft. It had always struck him as funny the way she would stroke him as if she was petting a dog. Nice pecker, he imagined her thinking. No complaints, mind you. Not the least bit particular, his dick reveled in any and all attention it could get. She gripped his hard-on in her tiny hand and then closed her mouth over the head. Heated rapture shot from his cock into his belly.

  She sucked and pumped his erection, her wet mouth and avid suction causing lust to coil. When his knees wobbled, he pulled away and motioned for her to scoot back on the bed. She scrambled on all fours to the middle. Sometimes he thought she wiggled her ass provocatively just to tease him.

  Billy growled and smacked her sexy butt. She yelped and shot him a what-gives glare over her shoulder.

  He was dying to spank her, but a little love pat from time to time was all he’d been able to get away with. Once, he’d never given spanking any thought, except to joke about it if the subject happened to come up. Then, at a loose end while off work and undergoing physical therapy, he’d picked up Mary Sue’s e-reader. He’d been floored by the quantity of spanking romances—with some of the more intense scenes highlighted. Was this what Mary Sue desired? Did his cute little wife want to be spanked? He’d never considered it before, but the idea stirred a quickening, an excitement.

  When he confronted her with the evidence, she had denied any and all interest in spanking beyond reading about it. She’d even threatened to punch him in the nose if he attempted it. Methinks she doth protest too much?, he had wondered. Still recovering from the accident and the surgery, he could barely walk. He was in no condition to spank anybody. So he wrote a story for her instead, modeling the heroine after her.

  She loved it. Raved about it. Encouraged him to submit it. But she never made the connection that she was Beverly.

  Clearly, she did not want to be spanked. However, the idea of paddling Mary Sue had planted itself in his brain, and writing provided his sole outlet. The Misadventures of Beverly Golightly had led to another book and another, and then he had an actual frickin’ career as an author. He tried to engage Mary Sue again by jokingly asking for help with research, but she shot that down.

  Ironically, sometimes he got so involved with writing about loving he overlooked doing it with the one who’d inspired him. Not tonight.

  Billy threw himself on the bed and grabbed Mary Sue in a bear hug. She squealed. He kissed her for all she was worth, which was a lot. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he rolled them over to land on top of her. He wedged a leg between her thighs, and homed in on her wet center. Trimmed curls formed tight spirals. He stroked delicately, teasing her clit while he captured a rosy nipple between his lips and sucked. She wove her hands in his hair, arched to thrust her breasts upwards.

  With her thigh, she caressed his cock. He could feel his dick leaving a snail trail on her leg.

  Billy buried his face against her neck and kissed her throat, continuing to stroke between her legs. He inserted one finger into her pussy. Muscles, already tight, clamped around his digit. He rubbed his face against her soft skin, his stubble catching the strands of her hair.

  “You smell good,” he said.

  “You feel good.” She clasped and stroked his erection.

  Nice pecker. He snorted.

  She sought his gaze. “Something funny?”

  “No.” She would not appreciate the humor. Billy pressed his lips to her mouth, then worked his way down her body, kissing her sensitive zones: her throat, her breasts, her tummy. He nudged her legs apart and settled between them. Lost himself in her honeyed tang. When her breathing came fast and hard, her cries high and reedy, and she thrust against his mouth, he scooted up and entered her, burrowing his cock deep inside.

  They rocked in sync, two moving parts of the same whole achieving unity together.

  * * * *

  Mary Sue curled against Billy’s side, resting her head on his chest. Her heart thumped against his side. He relished these moments cuddled up with her. They didn’t happen often enough, and he had to admit, that was largely his fault. He always seemed to be on deadline. Mary Sue raked her fingers gently through his chest hair, then curled a whorl around her finger. He felt the tug of her touch clear to his groin. She’d always affected him that way.

  She’d been his rock during the dark days of his accident and convalescence. Her strength and unsinkable belief he would walk again had buoyed his hopes. She’d inspired a new career and helped him establish it.

  She was his wife, his cheerleader, his biggest supporter, and he owed her far more than he could repay.

  He didn’t intentionally ignore her, but time ran out before he could cross off half the items on his to-do list. Sometimes he felt like a circus performer. How many balls could he juggle before they fell and bashed him on the head?

  Right now, he had a bit of a break. With a story draft completed, and another sitting in his publisher’s email inbox, he could relax.

  Take Mary Sue someplace.

  Billy smoothed his hand from her waist to her thigh and back. “What kind of shift are you working tomorrow?”

  “Friday’s my short day, so after the lunch rush, I’m free. I have the weekend off.”

  “The first draft of Missteps is done. My editor has Mishaps, but I’m not expecting her to get to it for another couple of weeks, so why don’t we go somewhere this weekend? Take a drive, check into a hotel? You know, a romantic getaway.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “You mean it?” Mary Sue sprang to seated position. “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a while since we’ve done something like that.”

  Mary Sue squealed, flung herself on top of him, and peppered his face with kisses. “Yes! Let’s do it!”

  He flinched when her knee almost connected with his nuts. “Careful.” He grunted. “If you expect any more action this weekend, watch out for the boys.”

  She giggled. “Sorry.” She relaxed in a sprawl and hugged him.

  Billy banded his arms across her back, and kissed her head. “We’ll leave when you get home from work.”

  “Maybe I can sneak out early. Where should we go?”

  “How about along the coast? You like strolling through all the little shops.” Didn’t thrill him so much, but she liked it, and he liked making her happy.

  “Sounds wonderful. You’re sure you can get away?”

  “Yeah. This is probably the best possible time, and you deserve a treat for putting up with me.”

  “The computer stays home?” she asked.

  Billy hesitated, thinking of the spare moments when he might be able to squeeze in a little writing. After a glance at Mary Sue’s half hopeful, half wary face, he jettisoned the idea. It wouldn’t kill him to go one weekend without working. Might even recharge the creative juices. “I won’t bring the laptop.”

  “Thank you, thank you.” She squeezed him. “I can’t wait. This is going to be so much fun!”

  * * * *

  Stolen Moments Description

  Is it crazy to be jealous of a fictional character? While Mary Sue is proud of her construction-worker husband Billy’s new-found success as an author of spanking novels, she also finds herself resentful of Beverly Golightly, the fictional heroine who gets everything Mary Sue wants: her man’s undivided attention, lots of hot loving, and many delicious spankings. But is Mary Sue’s jealousy any crazier than the plan she hatches to recapture her husband’s attention? Stolen Moments is a romantic comedy.

  Rahm’s Way

  From the anthology Domestic Discipline

  Genre: Domestic discipline, BDSM romance

  Waiting outside the No Entry barricade, Cadence bounced on tiptoe to peer over the crowd. Passengers streamed out of the concourse and united with loved ones to block her view. What was taking him so long?

  She flattened a hand against her fluttering stomach. Two years and twelve days had passed since she’d seen her husband in the fles
h. Called to active duty from the Army Reserves, Rahm had served two tours in the Middle East. Would he look older? More importantly, would he think she did? She tucked her chin-length hair behind her ears. She’d washed that gray right out of it, but also had it cut in a younger, flirtier style. Would he notice? Would he like it?

  Why are you worrying about hair, for goodness sake? Cadence took a deep breath. Where was he? Please, don’t tell me he missed his plane. No, he would have called. She could count on Rahm 100 percent.

  “Cadence!”

  At the shout, she spotted Rahm waving at her from the concourse. He wore civvies, a green polo shirt and jeans. In one hand he carried an olive duffle, in the other a flowered overnight case. A white-haired lady tottered beside him on a walker. Ever the Boy Scout. Her Boy Scout. Cadence’s mouth broke into face-splitting grin, and she waved as if signaling overhead aircraft. She rushed to hug him.

  He handed off the flowered bag to the old lady’s family.

  “Thank you, young man,” she said.

  “You’re welcome, ma’am,” he answered, already turning toward Cadence.

  Cadence launched herself into his arms, and he lifted her off the ground and swung her around. Not one given to public displays of affection, he pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth, while his eyes promised more, so much more.

  “I can’t believe you’re home,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “It’s been too long.” He set her on her feet, wiped her tears with his thumb, and wrapped his arm around her. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Cadence clung to his waist as they headed to the parking lot. Even though Rahm had been in the Reserves, she’d never believed he would be called up—not after serving twenty years active duty. But when enlisted men were called, so were officers to lead them.

  She hugged him tighter. “Welcome home, Major Simmons.”

  “That’s Mister Simmons, now,” he said.

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “I do, too.”

  She squeezed him again. Hard muscle and brawn. No give, except for his heart. He’d always put her on a pedestal and taken care of her. But while he was gone, she’d had to fend for herself.

  Rahm kissed the top of her head. “I almost had forgotten how little you are. Almost.”

  They’d reached their SUV, and she unhooked the keys from the fob inside her purse and dropped them into Rahm’s outstretched hand. “I didn’t forget a thing about you,” she said. Least of all that he insisted on driving.

  He opened her door, and she slid in. He ducked his head inside and pressed another quick, hard promise to her mouth. God, he smelled good. Like man and love and security and sex all rolled into dark-haired, dark-eyed commanding package. For the longest time after he’d been deployed, she’d delayed changing the sheets to retain his scent on his pillow. When she finally freshened the bedding, she’d cried.

  Rahm bounded around the vehicle. He had to sit sideways until he adjusted the seat to accommodate his much longer legs. Then he swung them inside and started the ignition. He gripped the wheel lightly as he followed the exit signs and wound the vehicle out of the garage.

  Cadence shook her head bemusedly. “What is it?”

  “You driving. Like you’ve done hundreds of times. It feels like you never left. I missed you so much, felt your absence every single moment, and now you’re here like you’ve always been.”

  Rahm covered her knee with his large hand and tugged up her skirt. His fingers stroked the inside of her thigh. “I missed you, too. Each second of every minute. I plan to pick up where we left off and spend the rest of my life with you.”

  Pick up where we left off. Cadence swallowed. Now was not the time to break the news and ruin his homecoming. They could talk later. He inched his hand higher up her leg. He winked.

  The military had suited her husband’s personality. Rahm was the most disciplined, by-the- book man she knew. He had a heart-of-gold, but he did not adapt well to change, and there’d been some since he’d left. Forced by necessity, but maintained because she discovered she’d liked them.

  Rahm squeezed her thigh and returned his hand to the steering wheel. He glanced at her. “You did something to your hair. I like it. It’s cute.”

  She shook her head to make her hair bounce. “With Jax going off to college, I felt like an old lady. I wanted something younger.”

  “You’re not old.” He touched the wings of gray at his temples. “This on the other hand…”

  The threads of silver enhanced his rugged, masculine appearance, his aura of experience. As did the extra crinkles at his eyes. He looked like a man who had lived. Cadence found little sexy about a young pup still wet behind the ears. She desired a man.

  “Only makes you hotter,” she said.

  “Hotter?” He grinned.

  She nodded.

  “Jax…” He inquired of their son whose high school graduation had occurred while Rahm was away.

  “Is away at college. He’ll be here this weekend.”

  “Good.”

  “That he’ll be home? Or, that he’s away?”

  “Yes,” he said and leered.

  ****

  Rahm locked the front door, dropped his duffle, and hauled Cadence into his arms. Her purse thunked to the floor. He fastened his mouth on hers and plunged his tongue inside like he had been dying to since he had spotted her at the airport. She wound her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off her feet.

  A movie kiss, they’d dubbed it, when he swung her around, and laid a lip-lock on her until they were both breathless. How many nights, days, months had he thought of her? She’d kept him sane. But fantasies and memories could not compare to the reality of her breath, her taste, her curvy body. He hugged her and groaned. “God, I missed you.”

  He stroked her lips and the warm, wet recesses of her mouth. She twined her tongue around his, then teasingly withdrew. Rahm nipped and vowed additional retribution later. Oh yes. He’d longed for that too.

  Cadence locked her legs around his hips. Against her mound, his erection throbbed. Soon, buddy, soon. He splayed his hands over the rounded cheeks of her ass and squeezed. She moaned.

  “Bed,” he said.

  She nodded and sucked on his tongue.

  While holding and kissing her, Rahm relied on memory to guide him to the bedroom. Half a dozen steps into the parlor, he plowed into a table. “What the fuck?” His hand flew out and flattened against the wall to prevent their fall. Rahm scowled. “What’s that table doing there?” He scanned the room. Their sofa hugged the opposite wall.

  “I rearranged the furniture.” Cadence nuzzled his neck.

  “What was wrong with the way we had it?” Balancing on one foot, he rubbed his shin, one leg against the other. “I don’t like it.”

  She pulled back to stare into his eyes. “Can you dislike it later?”

  Irritation vanished. “Good point.” He kissed her again and then broke it off so he could watch his step as he wove through the living room-turned-obstacle-course. In the bedroom— unchanged, thank goodness—he set his wife on her feet.

  Clothes, his and hers, went flying and then although desire pounded through him, Rahm paused to drink in her nakedness, her breasts, her smooth thighs, the trimmed curls. And then Cadence was in his arms, silk and softness sliding against his body.

  He cupped her breasts, and the bead of her taut nipples poked against his palms. He drew slow circles and they tightened further. He bent his head to nuzzle her ear lobe, and she shivered. Kissing his way down her throat, he found the satiny juncture between her neck and shoulder to be a perfect fit for his lips. Journeying lower, he captured a nipple in his mouth. She moaned, and he groaned his own pleasure, then hissed when she wrapped a hand around his shaft. Stroked and pumped.

  Rahm closed his eyes. How many lonely nights had he jacked off to her memory? Too many, and none of his masturbatory fantasies could compare to this. Heat and pressure built until self-prese
rvation urged him to push her hands away, but then she released his cock and grabbed his ass.

  “Good idea.” He copied her moves and seized her cheeks. “I missed your ass.” Missed the little wiggle in her walk, how her jeans molded her behind, the way her skin blushed, the tenderness that swept over him even when she totally pissed him off, and he sentenced her to naked corner time.

  He squeezed her rear, then smacked. She emitted a tiny gasp.

  Rahm tugged her toward the bed, sank onto it, and pulled her over his lap. She wiggled into position in that old familiar way that sent a zing through him.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to get me like this.” She peered over her shoulder and smiled. “Ten-point-two seconds.” Sex and sass. Heat shot through his cock.

  He swatted both cheeks. “Impudent wench,” he said, and bounced another set off her rounded derriere.

  “Ow. Ow,” Cadence cried, laughing. Wiggled. Covered her butt.

  “Now, none of that,” Rahm shoved her hands away, and spanked her cheek to watch it quiver. She already blushed. A sexy pink.

  She squirmed. “I’d forgotten how much spanking stings!”

  Rahm grinned. “Let me remind you.” He hadn’t forgotten how much of a sensory experience spanking was: hearing the crack of impact and her gasps and whimpers, feeling the sting in his palm and the warmth rising from her ass, and watching her color deepen with every swat. No military man would dare admit pink was his favorite color, but when the rosy hue covered her rear, it was.

  He slapped each cheek to a military cadence. “Sound off, one, two. Sound off, three, four.”

  She laughed. “Rahm, what—” Smack. “Ow! What are—” Smack. “You doing?”

  “Having fun. How about you?” Using both hands he drummed a beat, chanting a familiar Jody. “I don’t know, but I’ve been told, Eskimo pussy’s really cold.”

  “When have you had Eskimo pussy?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve been told.” Rahm chuckled. “Didn’t you listen to the first part?” He dipped his fingers between her thighs. Hot, wet. Steamy. He sank deep. “You’re not an Eskimo.”