She Shouldnt, But She Will

by Francis Drake

  He put her in the middle of the three back seats. A young man with dreadlocks sat in one of the seats, looking out the window, nodding along to music coming through earphones. He was a boy, no more than college age, and he glanced up as Derek turned and helped Thia to sit. He looked away and then jerked his head back to Thia again, narrowing his eyes to gaze, then widening them in surprise.

  The raincoat covered Thia’s butt—barely. She tugged on the hem to make sure it covered as much of her thighs as possible. The young man moved aside, seeming to give her as much room as he could, and Thia breathed a sigh.

  Instead of sitting, Derek grabbed an overhead handle in front of her. His leg pressed the seam separating her tightly clutched legs. She looked up to watch him raise a brow in challenge.

  Derek would take care of her, she knew, but why was he doing this to her? Why subject her to public scrutiny?

  She gave a slight shake of her head, but parted her legs. Immediately, the scent of her moisture wafted up. She dropped her head. Her coat still covered her, but higher, above the top of her stockings. Derek stepped forward, effectively blocking her legs open. Her hands settled on her thighs, holding the hem of her coat in place.

  The man beside her gave a barely audible gasp, then moved back to the center of his seat. His knee rode against hers. He leaned to the left enough for her to hear the steady beat of the music pounding into his ears. Drums thrummed in a heavy bass rhythm. The feel of him next to her, Derek’s legs rubbing hers mercilessly with the jostling of the bus, the aroma of her previous arousal and that drum, that incessant beating.

  Her heart raced when she felt a tentative touch on her knee. The boy had rested his hand on his own knee, sending a couple of fingers out for an exploration. The muscles in her legs tensed but she didn’t move away. How could she, with Derek blocking her in place?

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Derek’s voice was low, but a shift of her head connected her with the man’s gaze, alight with desire. How he heard Derek over the sounds flowing directly into his ear, she didn’t know, but he nodded. He dropped his eyes and Thia followed his gaze to watch his hand creep from her knee, past Derek’s leg. His fingers trembled as they alternately skimmed her stockinged flesh and stretched out to stroke the silkiness.

  Thia sucked in a breath when he reached the top edge of the stocking. His hand stopped right beside hers as though waiting for a sign as to what to do.

  She focused on Derek. His clenched jaw showed tight control. His steady examination didn’t falter, gave no hint of what he wanted her to do. She wore no leash, they were in no desert, but was he in effect giving her to this man?

  On a soft sigh, she spread her legs wider and his hand scurried past her stockings and into her heat.

  There was no one in the back of the bus but the three of them. She heard the man’s breath quicken as his fingers sought and then found the slick wetness of her pussy. He adjusted his arm so his elbow pushed and pressed her breast while his fingers stoked her into flames below.

  The man liked music and he played her like an accomplished musician. She scooted an inch or two down on the seat to allow him access to her passage. He inserted one finger in no time. His thumb found her clit. The caress was no more than a fairy’s kiss at first, but strengthened when he pumped her pussy.

  His finger wasn’t particularly long, but he mined deep enough to reach her G-spot. Through half-lidded eyes she stared at the bulge in Derek’s slacks. If he leaned a little farther forward and helped her, she could suck him. She wanted like hell to suck him.

  If he just leaned a little forward. If the man’s elbow wasn’t pressing her back, making her nipples long for a hot mouth and firm lips. If she wasn’t about to come from his finger’s unwavering thrust and stroke. If they weren’t on a—

  “Oh, my God,” she said at the same time Derek pulled the cord and the automated voice announced, “Market Street

  .”

  In one move, she sat up and Derek knocked the man’s arm away. Her breathing heaved from nearly coming, and such need she wanted to scream. From the corner of her eye, she saw the college boy next to her suck his fingers—presumably the ones he’d just used on her—and use his other hand to forcefully rub his crotch. A low groan told her he’d reached completion, and she ached for her own even more.

  Derek stepped back and helped her stand. In moments they were off the bus and standing on the corner of Van Ness and Market. She looked up as the bus pulled off. Her last glimpse was of dreadlocks bouncing in time with some tune and a big smile.

  “I thought you might like some coffee. There’s a shop over here.”

  “You know what I want.”

  The heat in his eyes sparked something in her. Something deep and dark and filled with primitive lust. She wanted him, right there, right then.

  Then he grinned. “You’ll get what you want and more. But coffee first.”

  Excited yet dreading what might be coming, she followed him into the small shop.

  Designed for the fast pace of rush hour traffic, there were no seats, only a short counter and room for customers to step in and move out. Even at this hour the place was packed and people crowded the area outside, drinking coffee, smoking and talking. Curious gazes turned their way the closer they got to the shop. Thia heard soft gasps and comments such as what the fuck and oh man, and what the hell. But she followed Derek into the shop and pretended not to listen.

  While he ordered she stood quietly. A man brushed against her, the bulge of his erection obvious. “Excuse me,” he said, but then rubbed against her again, harder. His hand reached up and squeezed her breast. She pushed at him and moved closer to Derek. Before she knew what was happening, the man was feet away.

  “Back off.” Derek growled the command.

  “No problem, man.” The man, tall in jeans and a T-shirt proclaiming some band, held up his hands and backed out of the shop. Derek slung his arm over Thia’s shoulders. With his other hand he took the coffee from the counter and handed it to her.

  Out front, the crowd stood back and let them through. Thia flushed with embarrassment but Derek acted as though he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

  He flagged down a cab and blocked her from straying eyes as she got in. He settled beside her and gave the studio address to the cabbie. As they sped down Market he put his lips near her ear. “You were incredible. All I’d hoped and wanted you to be for me.” He pressed her hand to his crotch. “And see what you did?”

  “I can take care of that.”

  He glanced at the rear view mirror and then down at her. “I think we’ve shared enough for one night. We’ll wait until we’re alone. But then, watch out.”

  She thrilled at the promise in his voice. With his outrageous suggestion of her dress and actions, Derek had done something other than set her on fire. He’d struck all thoughts of the morning and Henry from her mind.

  * * * *

  Thia’s breathing intensified, causing her breasts to rise and fall under her raincoat, stimulating her nipples. She was consumed by her awareness of being naked, and aroused. She felt a trickle of moisture start to run down her inner thigh. Her thoughts were broken. And all because of the way Derek kissed her in the foyer of the building where his studio was housed.

  Since the ground floor still contained several owner-operated clothing manufacturers, workers often hung around on the loading docks where they smoked and took their breaks. She heard the sound of voices coming from there now, but the possibility of voyeurs didn’t stop Derek.

  He raised his head and began unbuttoning her raincoat.

  Thia jumped back. “Derek, not ’til we get inside.”

  He unfastened the top three buttons and then guided her to the elevator. Men came around the corner just as the elevator doors were closing and he finished with the buttons. Her coat fell open a split second before the doors closed completely.

  “You’re going to get us arrested.” She yanked the edges together.
<
br />   “Not by them. Didn’t I say I’d protect you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then trust me.”

  He didn’t say another word until they stepped into the studio. Derek closed and locked the door and then dropped the key in his pocket. He’d left the key in the lock before.

  She licked her lips.

  “The slave girl can’t run because she’s surrounded by desert. You can’t run because you are locked in here. You’re trapped just like the girl in your paintings.”

  He stepped close but she didn’t back up. Pushing the coat off her shoulders, he sighed. After stroking her nipples with his thumbs, he lifted her arms and placed them on his shoulders. With her naked body tight against him, he took control of her mouth.

  Her breasts squeezed against the fabric of his shirt and her pelvis nestled the bulge in his pants. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she melted into him. His tongue explored her mouth and she reveled in his taste.

  Derek broke the kiss. Pushing her away he said, “Turn around and face the wall.” He pulled her wrists behind her and used the belt to her robe to tie them. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  An empty feeling consumed her, replacing the craving for sex. Her emotions took control and a tear formed in her eye. After the day she’d had, she wanted to curl up, fold into herself and hide. But she knew she was trapped and exposed.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  She was accustomed to following his orders so she did what he demanded. Then she was engulfed by darkness. A blindfold covered her eyes, tugged tight and knotted behind her head.

  Her heart pounded when something cold slid around her neck and clicked—a collar of some sort. Then she heard the clip of a leash click shut under her chin. She’d lost total control.

  There was a tug on her leash. “Come along. Let’s see if we can find your cage.”

  “Please, Derek I’m scared.”

  “Maybe you should be.” His voice had never sounded this way before. Husky, yes, but not with this underlying curt tone. The evening’s events had affected him much more than she’d realized.

  He stopped and removed the blindfold. She blinked several times before looking around, but the light was low and it didn’t take her long to see she was in a part of the loft she’d never seen. The space wasn’t large but it was cozy. A desk occupied one wall, with bookcases overflowing with books, and filing cabinets. Against the other wall, a table held a phone and printer. But it was the object against the back wall that captured her attention, a metallic cage, about five feet square, with pillows littering the floor.

  Thia stiffened. Get a grip girl. You know you can trust him, and he’s going to give you great sex tonight. That was worth being in a cage.

  Was that the way the slave girl in the painting felt? Or was that her interpretation because she’d do anything for Derek? The thought struck her that he was beginning to mean too much to her, she might be falling in love. She pushed the thought far to the back of her mind.

  Derek’s voice broke into her thoughts. “What do you think?”

  “It’s a little small for both of us.”

  He laughed. “It’s a space for one, I’m afraid. I have some work to do before bed, but I want you close.” He studied her eyes. “All right?”

  After a long look, she dropped to her knees. He unclipped the leash and untied her hands, and she crawled in. He locked the door.

  Without a word, he left the room. She heard him walking around, moving things. Presently he returned, carrying a glass of amber liquid in one hand—the scent of whiskey hit her—and a sketchbook and pencils in the other.

  He settled in his desk chair, opened the book and poised his pencil, while focusing on her through narrowed eyes. He was going to sketch her!

  Immediately, she posed against the side of the cage, holding her hands behind her as though they were tied. His pencil flew and soon he flipped the page. Thia curled up in a back corner of the cage, peering up at Derek through her lashes. When he smiled and flipped the page again, she lounged against the cage, spread her legs and rubbed her finger over her pussy.

  Minutes later Derek held out his sketch pad. Captured on paper was Thia in the throes of passion. Below the triangle of hair, her finger stroked her to bliss while her other hand kneaded her breast.

  “This is my favorite,” he said.

  She smiled through the afterglow. “Will you paint it in oils?”

  “Yes, for me alone.” He put the paper and pencil aside. He opened the cage door and gestured her out. She knelt before him and he reached behind her, the chenille belt from her robe in his hands. In seconds her wrists were bound and her eyes blindfolded.

  Moving to her front again, the soft fabric of his slacks brushed her lips. She could smell him, the kind of salty scent of Derek’s arousal, so different from hers yet still so fulfilling. She leaned forward to smell him. The sound of his zipper and the rustle of his clothes being pushed off his body let her know he was readying himself for her attentions.

  Taking a fistful of her hair, he gently guided her. Her lips bumped against his dick and without a thought she opened her mouth waiting for him to probe her lips. She wasn’t disappointed as he pushed her open mouth on to his throbbing spear.

  As she bobbed, Derek’s firm grip controlled her head, not letting her move enough to release his engorged dick. As she sucked and bobbed she prepared herself to take all he had until every last drop was down her throat, but he pulled out before he finished.

  Her wet pussy demanded relief, and had complete control of her thoughts. Her breathing heavy, her hands desperately wanted to get to his dick and take it to her pussy. Derek had other plans.

  He helped her stand and then led her through the studio once more. When her feet hit the large area rug, she knew they’d gone into the kitchen area. Lifting her, he sat her on the edge of the table. He untied her hands and then positioned two chairs one under each foot, leaving her legs spread wide.

  She held her body up with her arms. His hands ran up her thighs, then over her hips and along her ribs before his penis pushed through the moist gateway of her pussy. She arched her back as he stretched and filled her sheath. He’d donned a cock-ring, one with an additional exciter for her clitoris. She knew because something more than his invading dick stimulated her. His hands pinched her nipples while her thoughts were consumed by the sensation of him moving in and out, slow at first then faster.

  Her breathing quickened and moans emanated from her, louder and louder until they turned to begging. She thought she might die when she felt him stop stroking.

  “Don’t stop!”

  Despite her begging, before she could climax he slowed again. He made it a game of cat and mouse, bringing her close to climax then backing off. Thia was oblivious to her surroundings when every muscle in her pulled tight and her body began to shake out of control.

  Her arms collapsed and she fell back on the table whimpering and shaking from the orgasm. Derek’s rock hard shaft still stretched her though, and she knew she needed to get control before he started to pump her again.

  When he began the slow grind and pump again, she felt she'd pass out if he continued, but she had no will to stop. All she could do was accept the pleasure and let her body build toward another mind-numbing release.

  When it came, she felt Derek pull out and a cool gel being applied to her pussy. Afterward, his dick pushed easily through her nether lips. For what felt like hours, she lay in the dark as Derek took her body to heights of pleasure. She was almost numb by the time he came, and when he removed the blindfold and carried her to the bed, she curled in his arms and slept like the dead.

  Minutes later, Derek shook her awake. She batted his hand away. “I need more sleep.”

  “How much more? It’s after noon.”

  What? She cracked open her eyes and saw sunlight streaming in through the windows.

  “Come on and clean up. I have lunch made.” He swatted her bottom and wal
ked off.

  Stretching, she said, “What do we have to do today?” She heard him opening the small refrigerator and then a drawer.

  “Jim is coming over to bring us up to date.”

  Jim, the DEA agent they’d had dinner with the previous night, was good looking, with thick dark hair and eyes the color of Hershey’s kisses. He wasn’t as tall as Derek, nor as muscular.

  Pushing the bedcovers aside, she wished she’d paid more attention to their conversation and less on her paranoia over Henry. And today, in the bright sunlight, after a long session of fucking and then a good sleep, paranoia is exactly what she thought it was.

  She came out of the shower feeling refreshed but naked. “I didn’t wear anything over here. You aren’t going to make me meet Jim in my birthday suit, are you?”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t trust him around you looking like that. Here you are.” He held out one of his denim shirts he wore while painting. Spatters of color decorated it, and it was soft from years of wear and washing.

  She buttoned it, then buried her nose in the collar, taking the fragrance of Derek and his work deep into her nostrils. Looking up, she saw him watching her, and smiled. “Did you mention food?”

  He pointed to the table, where last night he’d pushed her to limits of sensation she hadn’t known existed. Two plates sat there, side by side. One held a whole sandwich. The other had a sandwich cut into small pieces.

  “Are you too sore to have your hands bound again?”

  She considered. “Loosely?”

  He nodded. “Kneel.”

  She cast a longing look at the food and dropped to her knees. He tied her hands and then pulled up a chair. She settled on her ankles. Picking up one piece of the cut up meal, he fed it to her. At intervals, he held a glass of milk to her lips and let her drink. While they ate, he read the newspaper out loud and they chatted, he at the table and she at his feet, petted and feted in a way she’d never imagined. It was different. Enlightening rather than demeaning since she trusted Derek implicitly.