by Danica Avet
Chapter Three
Sarah and Marta
“The kids are sleeping,” Dean said as he entered the master suite. “Finally. I swear I keep expecting Dylan to pull War and Peace out so he can avoid going to sleep. He—” He sucked in a surprised breath. His words lost with his train of thought.
Sarah sat at her vanity, a curly red wig covering her short, blonde hair. The color made her already pale skin appear milky white. Knowing what this meant, Dean closed the bedroom door as quietly as possible, the blood in his body pooling in his groin. He leaned back against the hard wood, his heart slamming against his rib cage. Her gray eyes studied her reflection as she tweaked a curl here, adjusted a curl there, making sure the long strands framed her tits.
Dean pushed away from the door, drawn to her naked body. Her gaze focused on him, sharpening with lust and interest, but they didn’t speak. Not yet. Standing over her, he studied the wig from every angle, enjoying the way it made her look like a completely different woman.
He stopped behind her and reached down to trace a lock that had curled around her nipple. “Who’s this?” he asked as he flicked the hard peak.
“This is Marta.” She arched her back, encouraging him to cup her tit. “She’s…domineering.”
His pulse quickened at the thought and he cradled her tits with both hands, enjoying the heaviness and how responsive she was. “Is she now? More domineering than Audra?”
Sarah tilted her head back, looking up at him with a sparkling smile. “Audra only pretends she’s tough. Marta is tough.”
He pinched her nipples, knowing she felt his cock prodding her back. “Show me.”
“Are you sure?”
Releasing her, Dean stepped back. “Yes, I want to see how domineering you can be.” Because he didn’t think she had it in her to boss him around, although his body liked the idea of her trying. “I’ll even play submissive.”
She laughed again and stood. “You got it. I’ll be right back.”
He debated getting undressed, but decided not to just yet. He wanted to see how far his sweet Sarah would push him. Instead, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed, watching as she approached the wall of cabinets opposite him. They opened to reveal shelves displaying fifteen mannequin heads sporting a wide array of wigs. Sarah bent over, her sex peeking at him as she dug in the drawers beneath the wigs. She withdrew something and disappeared into the master bathroom.
Dean stacked his hands behind his head and studied the wigs. His women were in those wigs—Audra his vixen, Becky his hungry girl next door, Dixie the stripper who gave him free lap dances, Kendra the hooker who loved to suck his dick while he drove around town, Carly, his sons’ college-age babysitter who needed to be seduced into sex, Zoe the blue-haired hellion who liked to fuck in public. The list of women his wife pleasured him with continued on, each one bringing something different to the bedroom, or his office, or his car, or the picnic table at their favorite park. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom contained an array of colored contacts so each woman had her own look, giving them that extra authenticity needed to make their role-play seem real. His women drove him insane and he couldn’t thank his wife enough for that.
Sarah gave him the thrill of pursuing a new woman, of engaging in illicit sex without betraying his marriage. Even better, she loved it, getting off on planning their interludes and the rough sex he gave her. It was the perfect kink for both of them.
The door to the bathroom opened and Marta exited, wiping every thought out of Dean’s mind. The black leather dress she wore stopped at the very tops of her thighs where a pair of lethally tall boots began. Her long red hair spilled over her shoulders, kissing the skin where her tits swelled above the tight clasp of her dress. His dick pulsed, dampening the material of his boxers, making him regret his decision to stay dressed.
She sauntered into the room, confidence and power oozing from every pore. Sure, Dean’s brain knew Sarah was beneath all the women he’d enjoyed for the past three years, but she managed to make him forget who she was when she was in full role-playing mode. Like now. He could almost believe she was a take-charge woman named Marta with the most fierce green eyes and reddest hair he’d ever seen.
He shifted his body as she neared the bed, ready to climb out to meet her, to take her down to the mattress, but she shook her head. “I’m running this show,” she said in a voice vastly different from Sarah’s.
If he hadn’t been so turned-on, Dean might have been spooked by how easily she changed personalities, but all he could think about was what she’d feel like wrapped around his dick. He lay back on the bed, feeling smug and confident because while she might look and act like a different woman, she couldn’t hide her arousal. Not with the way her nipples showed in sharp relief against her leather top or the strong musk of her pussy when she crawled on top of him.
“Spread out your arms,” she ordered, the dampness from her sex soaking through his shirt.
Dean did as he was told, certain he was going to enjoy one hell of a blowjob because Sarah loved his dick. Except as he reached over his head, she leaned over him, her amazing tits in his face, and fastened his arms to the headboard, the cool kiss of steel and the soft snick of handcuffs snapping into place happening far faster than he’d been prepared for.
He tore his gaze away from the mounds threatening to spill out of her top to glance at his hands before looking back at her and the smug, hungry look in her eyes. His heartbeat kicked into overdrive, his cock ready to tear through the material of his pants to get at her sweet pussy.
“Don’t move,” she said with a sassy wink.
Her hands slid down his arms and over his chest. She gripped the material in both hands and yanked, buttons flying across the room. The soft murmur of approval she let out as she touched his naked skin left him feeling like a virgin about to be ravished. When she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, scraping her fingernails over his nipples, he hissed out a surprised breath, more moisture dampening the front of his underwear. With his shirt missing and her straddling his stomach, the spread positioning of her legs meant her pussy was exposed and soaking his skin. He wanted her on his cock, riding him, using him.
But Marta had other plans because she lifted her ass off his torso and crawled up his body until her wet slit was positioned over his face. Dean breathed in her scent, his eyes closing at the humid, musky smell. He didn’t wait for her to tell him what she wanted because he couldn’t have stopped himself from lifting his head to taste her if his life depended on it. Having her pussy right there, knowing she was wet and ready for him was enough to put him on the edge. Tasting her meant the scales were balanced.
Dean licked her from the entrance of her pussy to her clit, wrapping his lips around the little nubbin of flesh and sucking. Her sharp cry sent a pulse of pleasure through him. He wanted to grip her tight, to hold her in place for him, but she’d restrained him and the torture threatened to kill him. Her fingers dug through his hair, tugging the strands and pulling him closer to her. More than happy to eat that sweet cunt, Dean worked her with his tongue, flicking, licking, lapping and sucking as her juices seeped over his face.
Soon she rode his mouth, her thighs tensing on his arms, the leather of her boots cool against his ribs. His scalp stung from her repeated tugs, but the wilder and more demanding she became, the more he teased and taunted her. He nuzzled for her clit, taking the swollen bud between his lips and tugging. She let out a strangled scream, the muscles of her pussy quivering against his mouth and a flood of juices coating his chin.
She sort of wilted on him then, her heavy breathing loud in the silence of the bedroom, her body lax. Dean lapped at her folds, drinking down her salty-sweet fluids as he waited for her to move and fuck him. His dick was hard enough to knock down skyscrapers, threatening to bust right through his boxers and pants.
Marta wiggled on him, working her way back down his body until she sat directly over the hard bulge in his pants. Dean pa
nted, ready for her to release him and let him come. Hell, he’d be glad for a hand job. Fuck, even a warm breeze would shoot him off like a rocket. She rubbed her palm over him, massaging him through the material, a secret smile on her face.
“You want to come, baby?”
Dean licked his lips, her tart flavor lingering. “Yeah.”
She stopped rubbing, walking her fingers up the hard ridge of his dick to his belt buckle. With quick, deft movements, she had his belt undone, his pants unbuttoned and slowly peeled the zipper down. Dean gulped, more turned-on than he’d ever been in his life. When she gripped the waistband of his pants and boxers and began to tug, he lifted his hips to make it easier for her to remove his clothes, his cock springing free of its confinement. She chuckled under her breath, pulling his pants down only as far as his knees.
Dean opened his mouth to order her to remove his clothes completely, but she chose that moment to blow a stream of cool air across the slick crown of his overheated dick. He shivered, every muscle in his body tensing as he waited for the warmth of her mouth. But it never came. He glanced down, directly into a pair of vivid green eyes.
“The other girls told me you’re pretty quick off the mark,” she said with a sly smile, her hand reaching up to grasp the base of his cock. She squeezed, milking a bead of pre-cum from the crown. “That won’t happen with me.”
Before he could ask her what she meant or to protest, she proceeded to lick and suck on his cock, taking him deep in her mouth, flicking the sensitive underside with her tongue. Dean groaned loudly, his head falling back on the pillow, pleasure racing up and down his spine as his dick hardened even more, his balls ready to shoot his load. His back arched as the tingling at the base of his spine increased. It happened so fast, but there was no denying it. He was coming.
And then he wasn’t.
The fingers grasping the base of his shaft tightened even more, cutting off the blood flow to his dick and shutting down his climax before it could happen. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he realized what she intended. His body tensed, for what he wasn’t sure, but she drew the head of his cock back into her mouth, bobbing her head as if she were trying to catch apples.
“Unghhh,” Dean groaned, digging his heels into the bed to get more of his dick into her throat but she shied away, keeping only the tip of his cock in her mouth. “Goddammit, suck it!”
Her chuckle reverberated along his length to settle in his balls, but she didn’t take more. His lungs labored for air as his dick swelled and the room dimmed as the blood rushed from his head. He was going to come hard any second now. Her free hand cupped his tight balls, her thumb rubbing along the seam, stroking over the ultra-sensitive skin, and the tingling at the base of his spine shot forward again.
Marta squeezed him again, stopping his climax before it could get going. Desperation and frustration nearly had Dean screaming for release, his entire body shuddering as he climbed for the pinnacle only to be stopped short again. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to buck against her hold, to force her to let him go so he could come.
After a few seconds, some of the intensity receded and the red haze filling his vision faded. That was when she released him completely and climbed up over him, the heat of her pussy scorching his sensitive dick before she even came down on him. He slid into the tight, clenching muscles of her cunt like a hot knife through butter.
She didn’t prolong his misery, setting up a fast, hard pace, riding his cock as though she were going for gold. Dean squinted up at her, at the way her red hair fanned around her face, at the sweat gleaming off skin exposed by her dress. Her heavy-lidded eyes watched him. The plump lips that had teased and tortured him parted on ragged breaths. She rode his dick up and down, alternately grinding her hips against his in tight circles that swirled his cock in her wet cunt. Tight, sucking friction worked at his shaft, the flexing, rippling muscles of her pussy dragging his orgasm from him whether he wanted it to or not. And he definitely wanted it.
At the very first tensing of her inner walls, Dean clenched his hands into tight fists, locking every muscle in his body. Bending his knees, he planted his feet as well as he was able and thrust up over and over again, meeting each downward slide until every cell in his body seemed to seize up at once.
It felt as though he poured everything he was, his heart, body and soul into her, giving everything he had until there was nothing left, until he was only an empty husk of bone and muscle. Dean’s brain took a complete break from reality, going blank as only a man who’d had the most intense, gut-wrenching orgasm of his life could experience. He had to learn to breathe again. Fuck that, he had to learn how to blink because all he could do was stare at the inside of his eyelids.
When he came to, what felt like hours later, she’d released his hands from the cuffs and removed his clothes. Marta was gone, her red hair probably gracing the head of one of Sarah’s mannequins. His lovely, unassuming, sweet wife lay next to him in bed, her short blonde hair mussed and her face still flushed from her orgasm. As lame as it would have sounded to his friends at the office, Dean had never seen her look more beautiful than she did now.
She pillowed her head on his arm, her little hand splayed over his ribs. “Well? Do you want to keep Marta?”
Dean didn’t even have to think twice. He dragged her tighter against his chest, a heavy, satisfied sigh whooshing from his lungs. “Fuck yeah, but maybe save her for once a month. I think she’d kill me otherwise.”
She laughed, snuggling close to him with a contented sigh. Dean’s gaze strayed to the cabinet where his shelves of lovers awaited their next chance to drive him crazy. He had no doubt that over the next thirty years even more women would find their way onto his list. And he could hardly wait.
The End
About Danica Avet
Danica Avet was born and raised in the wilds of South Louisiana where mosquitoes are big enough to carry off small children and there are only two seasons: hot and hotter. With a BA in History, she figured there were enough fry cooks in the world and decided to try her hand at writing.
Danica is the lucky pet of a compulsively needy dog and two cats. The pitter-patter of little feet has been known to make her break out into a cold sweat.
Writing is how she gives the voices in her head a way out. When she isn’t writing, working or contemplating the complexities of the universe, she spends time gathering inspiration from her insane family, reads far more than any sane person would want to, and watches hot burly men chase an oblong ball all over a field.
Danica welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Danica Avet
Fondled and Gobbled: Someone Had To Do It anthology
Primal Design
Primal Song
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Dean’s List
ISBN 9781419945762
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Dean’s List Copyright © 2013 Danica Avet
Edited by Grace Bradley
Cover design by Syneca
Photo: Lev Dolgachov/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication March 2013
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Table of Contents
Blurb
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About Danica Avet
