Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica

by Maria Isabel Pita

  She sits up, crawls over to him, lifts his shirt out of her way, and takes his rigid wand of flesh into her mouth. She presses her lips slowly down around his full length, then moves them back up to his helmet, impatiently licking off her own juices so she can savor his creamy semen. She grasps the base of his rod with her right hand while the fingers of her left gently caress his soft and vulnerable balls – the deliciously heavy sack hanging between his thighs full of his sperm’s white-gold and life’s priceless mystery. She pumps him and sucks him for a few hungry moments before she points his erection straight up and licks it all the way from his hairy groin, sticky with her juices, to his slick helmet. The inexplicable fulfillment of giving a man a good blowjob is new to her, and she isn’t exactly sure how to handle it. Yet she feels she is pleasing him as she makes an effort to sense where he is most receptive to her attentions.

  She throws herself passionately into serving him, weaving a web of sensations for him with the firm roof of her mouth, the soft, yet also tight, embrace of her lips, with her lively tongue, her warm breath and her agile fingertips, topped with the teasing sharpness of her nails. She also uses her throat, whose special caress is enhanced by the subtle vibrations of her moans as the satisfaction she takes in worshipping him just gets deeper and deeper along with her pussy. And finally, her efforts are rewarded by the soft, almost helpless sound she manages to squeeze out of his hard body.

  She lets go of him and sits back. His pants are pooled around his knees, and he was holding his shirt up out of her way, which gives her a nice view now of his muscular thighs, lean hips and flat stomach.

  ‘You’re feeling safe, aren’t you, Carmen?’ He suddenly grabs a fistful of her hair and forces her to meet his eyes. ‘You think because I’m a cop I can’t hurt you. Is that what you’re thinking?’

  She wasn’t thinking that, but she is more than willing to say, ‘Yes, sir.’

  He releases her. ‘You could really get me into trouble, Carmen.’ He sounds serious.

  ‘Why?’ she asks in wonder.

  ‘Do I have to spell it out for you?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘You could get me into trouble because I pulled you over for speeding – which you were, by the way – but then instead of giving you a ticket and sending you off with a warning,’ he caresses one of her cheeks with his thumb while studying her face, almost as if trying to decide whether or not her remarkable beauty is a crime, ‘I physically dragged you into this motel room.’

  ‘I would never tell on you, Will,’ she says fervently, inviting him to look deep into her eyes so he’ll see that it’s true, ‘you know I won’t.’

  The cheap little table where he placed his belt is directly behind him. He turns away, grabs the handcuffs, pulls one of the chairs out to face her, and sits down on it. ‘Come here,’ he says impatiently.

  She obeys him gracefully, her gaze fixed on the tender weapon rising between his thighs that is always part of him, which he can never remove even when his desire hasn’t drawn it.

  ‘Turn around.’

  She does as he says.

  ‘My God, is this what he does to you?’

  She knows he is referring to the red whip marks on her back, and doesn’t say anything.

  Without further comment, he snaps the handcuffs on her, and the feel of cold metal weighing her wrists down excites her as much as she had always suspected it would. ‘Spread your legs,’ he instructs, ‘and take a few steps back… perfect. You’re going for a ride.’ He grabs the tender cheeks of her bottom with both hands. ‘Have you ever gotten it up the ass, Carmen?’

  ‘Yes…’ She braces herself, leaning forward and bending her knees, but he surprises her by pulling her hips up towards his face. Her awkward position almost defies gravity, forcing her to strain all the muscles in her legs, yet she scarcely notices she is so involved in the novel experience of having the cheeks of her ass licked and bitten. She moans from all the passionate attention he pays them, gripping mouthfuls of her skin painfully between his teeth, then soothing the ache with his tongue. When he buries his features in her crack she gasps in shock, then moans again when the energetic tip of his tongue thrusts into her asshole. She thinks of a warm little creature trying to burrow back into its cave, and then she can’t think at all. Her wrists strain uselessly at the handcuffs as she struggles with this incredible new sensation, which is deliciously intensified by the deep vibration of his voice penetrating her and flowing through her blood as he groans hungrily.

  ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart, haven’t you ever gotten a good rimming?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’

  ‘Mm…’ He rims her some more, drugging her with his tongue’s sweet, soothing penetrations, especially when compared with her fresh memories of two different erections thrusting and burning and exploding in her tight space. Yet by the time he orders her to stand up straight she is more than ready to take his, she is actually dying to; her asshole is miraculously wet, and not from his saliva.

  ‘Sit on me, baby.’

  It isn’t easy to obey him with her hands pinned behind her back, but he guides her hips with one hand while holding his erection with the other. It takes a moment to angle it just right, during which her legs scream in protest as she suspends herself over him, but finally, he shoves his helmet into her hole and grabs her hips with both hands.

  ‘Oh!’ she cries as he pulls her down and rends her open. She almost feels sick with fulfillment as he packs his erection into her then makes her start riding it, moving her quickly up and down. Yet once again the mysterious thrill she takes in a man’s selfish pleasure transcends her discomfort, and the deep, sexy sounds he makes as he fucks her ass help hold her up, even as the muscles in her legs start to burn from the strain of obeying his rhythm.

  ‘Which one of your lovers taught you to take it up the ass like this?’ he asks hoarsely.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, I only really care about you!’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yes, I love you!’

  ‘Do you love me, Carmen, or do you love this big dick up your butt?’

  ‘Oh, God, both!’

  He laughs. ‘You have the most beautiful ass, sweetheart,’ he sounds breathless, ‘it’s so beautiful, I have to come… I just have to come in this beautiful fucking ass!’

  Her knees nearly buckle as he thrusts hard, and holds her down on his lap as he explodes deep inside her, his spunk suffusing her belly with a powerful and delicious warmth.

  Groaning, he lifts her off him slowly. He pushes her away from him gently, and she straightens up, feeling at once profoundly relaxed and stiff.

  The chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes it back, then she hears the whisper of cloth against flesh as he pulls up his pants.

  Trying to feel ashamed of herself, and failing miserably, she doesn’t turn around to face him. Instead, she listens to him picking up his belt, then holds perfectly still for him as he unlocks the handcuffs and slips them off her.

  She waits for him to say something, to break the strange spell she is under that won’t let her look at him, while at the same time hoping that he won’t. Yet when she hears the door open, then click closed behind him, her breath catches as if he shot her in the back.

  She drops onto the edge of the bed and stares down at her boots planted firmly on the cheap white linoleum floor.

  After a few minutes pass she stands up, picks her dress up with the tip of her boot, and kicks it up into her hands. But then it seems to take forever to turn it right side out and slip it back on.

  She catches sight of herself in a mirror.

  Her eyes are black holes in which she makes a desperate effort to see through into another, impossible universe where Jay can forgive her for this.

  She is running her fingers through her hair when she notices the marks on her throat.

  She moves closer to the glass and stares in horror at the red tr
ails of Will’s fingers on her neck, because there is no chance of hiding this damning evidence from Jay.

  The November sunshine flows crisp and bright as an expensive Chardonnay into her skull, which is unusually empty of thoughts as she walks over to her black car.

  The police car is gone.

  She starts the engine, pulls out of the parking space, and merges with the endless stream of traffic on Flagler Street as she wonders how many of the drivers around her are coming from such an experience themselves. She will never know, just as no one will ever guess what just happened to her, or that she loved every second of it.

  Carmen realizes that she will never see the world in quite the same away again, and that this is not necessarily a bad thing.

  *

  She is lying on her couch, possessed by one hot memory after the other, when Sage suddenly jumps off her lap and rushes to the front door.

  Her hand rises instinctively to her throat.

  Someone knocks loudly. ‘U.P.S!’

  Infinitely relieved that it isn’t Jay dropping by for lunch unexpectedly, she tosses her hair forward around her neck as best she can, and opens the door.

  ‘Good morning,’ a young black man declares cheerfully, ‘Carmen Palacios?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He hands her a small brown box. ‘I’ll just need your autograph.’

  She signs for the package, which doesn’t weigh anything. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem. Have a great day.’

  ‘You too.’

  The box is from her grandmother, who lives six miles away and is pointedly reminding her of this fact by communicating with her through the mail.

  Smiling sadly at the joke (which really should make her feel like shit) she gets a knife, and slices through haphazardly applied strips of clear shipping tape.

  Neatly folded inside crackling white tissue paper is a brilliant red and gold scarf.

  Buffy and Speckly jump onto the coffee table, curious about this new object and intent on exploring it. Carmen quickly lifts the delicate silk scarf out of reach of their claws. It was obviously expensive; clothing was always her grandmother’s passion.

  Naturally, it occurs to Carmen that she can hide the marks on her throat from Jay with this timely gift, but that would only be postponing the inevitable.

  The box hits the floor, and tissue spills out in all directions like white foam left by a breaking wave. Buffy and Speckly dive into it happily.

  ‘Okay, children, enough.’ Carmen wraps the scarf around her neck to protect it as she cleans up the mess.

  She knows she should call her grandmother and thank her, but she is not in the mood. The old woman would have a heart attack if she even suspected her innocent little girl was sleeping with three men at the same time. She wouldn’t even need to know that one of them is married and that the other one subjects her to all the discipline she never got as a child.

  Preparing for Jay’s arrival feeling like a condemned witch waiting to be burned at the stake, Carmen figuratively brushes the cobwebs off a short red spandex dress she only wore once, years ago. She struggles into it, and winds the scarf artfully around her bruised throat.

  The two different shades of red clash horribly.

  She is mixing her men just as disastrously.

  She whips the scarf off, struggles out of the cheap garment, balls it up in her fists, and tosses it into a wastebasket.

  ‘He doesn’t have to know everything,’ she says out loud.

  Curled up at the foot of the bed, Sage opens her eyes, but doesn’t consider the announcement worth the effort of raising her head.

  ‘I’ll tell him that Will pulled me over. I’ll tell him everything that happened, exactly the way it happened, up until the point where he pulled off my dress.’

  Sage’s eyes are burning crescents on a snow-covered horizon.

  ‘That’ll be when I fought him and he got mad.’

  Sage’s eyes don’t as much seem to close as to set, extinguishing themselves in her fur’s snowy drifts.

  She can’t decide what to wear tonight. Nothing feels right. Every time she tries something on and looks at her reflection, she sees the mirrors in the motel room, and Will approaching her in his black uniform from every direction. All she wants is to be naked. Her body feels more desirable than it ever has. She has never felt about a man the way she does about Jay, yet if she really tries, she can blame him for everything that has happened to her in the last week, beginning with her impulsive drive out to the Grove after he failed to call her as he had promised to. Her pulse tripped the moment she met his eyes in Mike’s office, and she has been falling ever since.

  The marks on her neck are fading, but not fast enough. The evidence of her transgression is still written on her skin in a primitive hieroglyph evocative of the first cave paintings made by bloody palms.

  Jay is picking her up for dinner at seven-thirty, exactly when Mike said he was coming over. She has less then ten minutes to decide what to wear. It isn’t cold enough for a turtleneck; she’ll have to settle for her grandmother’s scarf.

  She threw out the dress she wore to the Grove that fateful night even though it only suffered a few grass stains.

  She chooses a pair of white cotton underwear for comfort, steps into her short black leather skirt, slips her knee-high leather boots back on, and completes the ensemble with a long-sleeved white shirt that hooks closed in front like an old-fashioned bodice. The scarf doesn’t really match, but she wraps it around her throat anyway and lets it hang down her back.

  She desperately needs a drink. She has never spent so much time getting ready in her life, maybe because she feels she is about to lose her life, the one she almost shared with Jay.

  She is uncorking a bottle of red wine when she hears a quiet knock on the door.

  ‘It’s open,’ she says numbly.

  Jay walks in, casually yet stunningly attired in a black suit jacket worn over a V-neck black shirt tucked into black jeans over black boots.

  Sage appears in the bedroom door, and just stands there staring at him, her back tense, as though she is picking up on her mistress’ mood.

  ‘Hi.’ Carmen occupies herself pouring out two glasses of wine.

  He closes the door behind him, and walks towards her. ‘Your priorities need work, baby.’ He takes the bottle out of her hand, sets it back down on the table, and pulls her into his arms.

  His tongue explores her mouth with an intense purpose and agility that gets her so hot so fast, it’s as if her blood achieves the speed of light. She rests her cheek breathlessly on his shoulder. ‘I love you, Jay.’ Her eyes close as if these will be her last words.

  He peels her arms from around his neck, and looks down into her eyes. ‘Does that scare you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Something happened today.’

  He seems to be able to read the lights in her dark irises, because without her saying another word, he slips the fingers of one hand beneath her scarf and lifts it away from her skin.

  She literally sees his pupils widen in disbelief.

  ‘Who did this to you?’

  ‘A man who swore to serve and protect. I went to Seaside this morning to hand in my letter of resignation, and pick up my stuff. I’m sorry, I know I told you I wouldn’t go back, but I had to. Mike wasn’t there, so it doesn’t even matter. But on my way back, I guess I was going over the speed limit because Will pulled me over. I mean, at first I didn’t even know it was him. He pulled me over into a parking lot and asked to see my license and registration. I didn’t even realize it was a motel until he told me to get out of the car. He already had a key in his pocket, and he pushed me into one of the rooms.’

  Jay grips both her arms as if to keep her from falling. ‘What are you telling me?’

  She looks away.

  He shakes her, forcing her to meet his eyes again. ‘What are you trying to tell me, Carmen?’

  ‘He said he was finish
ing what he started.’

  ‘And you fought him? Is that how you got these marks on your neck?’

  ‘Yes…’ His pupils feel like black holes sucking in her soul, leaving only her worthless body in his hands. ‘No.’ She lowers her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she sighs, ‘he might have forced me.’

  He lets go of her. ‘What are you telling me?’ he asks again.

  Her voice is expressionless. ‘I let him fuck me.’

  He heads for the door.

  ‘Jay,’ she follows him and grabs a hold of his jacket’s slippery sleeve.

  He turns, and slaps her hard enough to daze her.

  ‘Jay, I love you,’ she whispers miserably. ‘I love you!’

  ‘You love me? Why do you think you love me, Carmen? What makes me different from all these other men? Is it my mind? Is it my charm? No, I don’t think so, I think it’s this.’ He slaps her again. ‘I think it’s because I treat you,’ he punctuates his opinion with another blow, ‘the way you deserve to be treated!’

  Half blinded by tears, she edges around the glass coffee table away from him. ‘I don’t know why I let it happen, Jay, I didn’t want to, but I just couldn’t…’ she sobs, ‘I just couldn’t stop him!’

  Rage has polished his irises into frighteningly blank, lifeless stones. ‘Did he handcuff you?’ He reaches out and grabs a fistful of her hair. ‘Did you come?’

  ‘Let go of me!’ She wrests free of him, opens the front door, and runs out into the night.

  Chapter Eleven

  Even in her high-heeled boots she makes it down the stairs

  and halfway to the sidewalk before he catches her.

  ‘Let go of me!’ she cries again.

  ‘It’s all right, Carmen,’ his tone is soothing, ‘I understand. I’m not angry with you anymore. Come back inside.’