Bayou Bad Boy

by LJ DeLeon

  “Mama Cezelia does nice work. She knows jus’ the scent for you...and your man.” He massaged the oil, starting with her foot, light at first and then deeper, conquering every pressure point as he worked his way up her leg. At the top of her thigh, his fingers paused. His gaze captured hers before he brushed just shy of the lips covering her clit. She almost groaned in frustration.

  One side of his mouth quirked as she squirmed to move his fingers closer. Her clenched he moved down to the entrance of her pussy in a feather light touch. Her skin’s heat intensified the scents of the oil as his thumbs slid along the edges of her labia, finally flicking at her sensitive nub.

  She tried to wind her free leg around him. He clasped her foot to his chest and shook his finger at her. “Non, chère, we play ma way.”

  He waited until she acquiesced in stillness and then lifted her right foot, kissed the arch, nibbled her big toe, and with a smile that warned her she’d never recover from tonight, settled the leg on his thigh and lifted her left one. By the time he reached her mound.

  “You ready”

  “Yes, now!” she sobbed.

  “No.” He brushed a thumb over her lips. She made a pass to suck it into her mouth be he evaded her with a chuckle. “I think you not ready yet. Lean back, chère. It’s time for me to taste your honey.” He placed her knees on his shoulders, tipped her back. With a growl, he brushed his face in her curls, marking her scent on him in a gesture so indicative of dominance and ownership Hannah almost came without actual contact. Then his tongue ran along the seam, spreading her lips and she mewled with pleasure. A broad finger, followed by a second, slid into her vagina, moving and out as he nipped her nub.

  He pinched and rolled her nipples. His stubble chafed the inside of thighs, adding another layer of sensation as she arched into his mouth, pressing against him for more. The light pain only ratcheted her pleasure higher.

  “Ah, chère, you taste better than honey.”

  Her skin glistened with sweat. Yet for the first time her excessive moisture didn’t embarrass her. From his grunts, she knew he loved her responses. Finally fantasy was reality and she was so close to her orgasms edge, she was over sensitized to the point of being insensible. “I need you, Sam. Now!”

  “For you, chère, anything.” He pulled her butt off the edge. “Protection?” At her groan and nod, he grinned and then rubbed his cocked against her his pre-cum mixing with her juices. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust into her, releasing a long moan as her flesh accepted the thick, full length of him. Too soon, he withdrew and thankfully pushed back again.

  When she tried to control the rhythm, he pressed a palm on her pelvis holding her still. “My game, my rules, chère.”

  On fire and knowing he was the only one could put it out, all she could do was nod in acceptance with a moan as his thickening Cajun caused her insides to tighten.

  “Good, I lead, you follow.” He maintained his maddening pace—slow and steady, accompanied by his torturous nibbling and sucking on her nipples.

  Desire flamed through Hannah’s body. It burned from the soles of her feet to the last hair on her head. She arched, unable to stop herself, and locked her legs against the small of his back to drag him to her, grinding herself against him as she screamed, “Saaammm!”

  Flicking her clit to extend her climax, he drove in and out several more times, then thrust home. She clamped down on him in repeated spasms, feeling the warm spurts of his cum fill her. Tears trickled from her eyes as shudders of pleasure rippled through her and black dots filled her vision.

  ***

  Sam settled Hannah’s unconscious body in the middle of her bed. He’d folded back the covers earlier in preparation for an evening of pleasure. He looped her padded and fur-lined handcuffs through one bar of the brass headboard, raised her arms over her head, and snapped them closed around her wrists. Carefully he tested a finger under the cuff at her wrist, ensuring she had circulation. He wanted her aroused to a frenzy, not in pain from numb limbs.

  Stepping back, he studied his prisoner with a grin. Discovering she wanted to explore a little kink had thrilled him. He spread a towel on the floor and laid out the rest of her things along with a few of his own. He trotted downstairs. Gathering Mama Cezelia’s special oil, the one used to excite both parties, and some ice cubes in a plastic bowl. Ah, the games they would play.

  A few minutes later, he settled himself beside his lovely playmate. Non, over the months, talking about life, their love of the bayou, her love of teaching, his love of building, she had become more than a potential plaything. In the kitchen, he’d been ready to confess his last dalliance was four months ago. It would have been a lie. He hadn’t had quite the desire for another woman since he’d picked Hannah up off the ground and taken her to the doctor to get her broken arm checked. Sam brushed long strands of wavy blond hair from her face. Her perfect smile, her devious way of tempting him, and yes, her gorgeous, responsive body called to him, but she was so much more. He glanced at her toned yet softly curved hips—perfect for having babies.

  He nuzzled her breasts and sucked one into his mouth to feast. Her movements beneath his cheek signaled she was awake, but he didn’t relinquish his prize.

  “Sam, why am I handcuffed?”

  He raised his gaze to hers innocently. “They’re your handcuffs, Chère,” he said and turned his attention to her other breast.

  She arched her back and groaned. “I hoped to use them on you. I bought four sets. I wanted you spread eagle while I had my way with you.”

  He reached over the side of the bed. “Next time, chère, if you’re good and follow orders. Now, I’ll teach my little almost virgin how to play with tools.” He lifted a soft furred blindfold where she could see it. “You trust me, oui?”

  She pulled at the cuffs for a second with a frown then met his gaze with a smile. “Yes.”

  “Bon.” He placed a set of earplugs and a bondage gag beside her oil. “You follow my orders? If you’re a bad girl, you get punished, oui?” At her wide-eyed nod, he leaned over and covered her lips with his. He sucked and nipped at her lower lip. At her slight jerk, he realized no man had ever given her a soft love bite there, but she eased into his lead on caress with a sigh. His tongue slipped inside her and tasted her—mint. She drew him in further, deeper, sucking him, possessing him, making him her slave with just one kiss.

  Easing back, he stared into her eyes, memorizing the innocent trust he saw there. Well and lust. “Close your eyes, chère.” He slid the blindfold over her eyes. “Be good girl. Don’ move, don’ make a sound.” He lifted an ultra-soft, sable-hair paintbrush. He started at her fingertips, then lightly painted the inside of her arms, her breasts, and down to her navel. He chuckled as she squirmed and groaned. Right on cue.

  One quick flip and he had her on her stomach.

  “Sam?’

  “Ah, chère, you moved and made a noise.” He lightly spanked her with his hand. First one cheek. “Bad girl,” he murmured as he soothed the bright pink blush and then slapped the other cheek. She squeezed her legs together and groaned.

  “Very bad girl, you need to learn, chère. Now we have to do this.” He flipped her onto her back. Grinning, he secured her legs spread eagle on the bedposts with another pair of her handcuffs. With the mouth gag secured, she started to thrash in panic. He soothed her with kisses and gentle touches. “Trust me.” It was a full minute before she stilled. At her nod, he sighed in relief. “I will only give you pleasure, no real pain. This will all make the sensations stronger,” he said and inserted the earplugs.

  He dribbled more oil on her stomach and breasts. With slow, gentle strokes, he massaged it in as he moved lower. Mama Cezelia and her oils were famous, and infamous. She designed them, individualized for each woman and the one man who would respond. The one man Mama Cezelia saw in her visions as the perfect man for that woman. The Voodoo priestess knew her business. The oil entered the flesh of both man and woman and sealed their fate. P
oor, Hannah, she was now stuck with him, but he was one lucky devil.

  The slippery, jasmine, and cedar-scented oil glistened over the curls of her mound. He threaded his finger through her curls as he wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and squeezed.

  With her folds exposed to his hungry gaze, he pressed his face into her with a long, hard lick. He slipped one, then two, and finally a third finger in her pussy. The woman was ready, past ready...time for a new toy.

  Hannah’s legs stiffened as the shock of cold slid up the ridge to her clit. A damn ice cube. If it weren’t for the gag, she’d be screaming. He drove her toward completion than backed away, only to start anew. Stretched to the point where she couldn’t move except to tighten her muscles, unable to hear or see, all she could do was feel. Every nerve burned and every muscle tensed awaiting the next action. Only one thing would relieve the pain of too much pleasure, fulfillment. The climax built within her, but just as she was ready to peak, Sam backed off.

  Suddenly, her legs were free, then her mouth, ears, eyes, and finally her eyes. Glorious and beautiful, he watched her as he moved between her legs and raised her knees. The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement, but the intensity of his gaze alerted her that he was as ready as she was. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her neck, and then her cheek before her looked into her eyes again. “We share this, chère? This is not jus’ me or you. We are together, oui?”

  She rubbed her face against his neck and inhaled, buy herself a moment in an experience that was almost too powerful. “Oui.”

  He positioned his cock at her entrance, threaded their fingers, and stretched her arms over her head. With a single tilt and thrust, he surged inside her, stretching and filling her. She would swear he touched her womb. Locking her legs around the small of his back, she pushed with her heels on his tight ass. “Now, Sam, now. I need you now.”

  He held still. “Give me a second, chère, o’ this over before I start.” He covered her mouth with his.

  She sucked on his tongue as he drove into her. A cry escaped her lips with his thrust, a gasp with his withdrawal, each arch and pump spun faster until she wasn’t certain she could breathe.

  A spring within her coiled tighter, then released with his last plunge. Spasm after spasm washed over her, wave after wave, flooding her like a tsunami. Her body boiled as her core tightening around him, then loosened a bit, and tightened again as jets of cum shot into her.

  Every fantasy she had ever had spiraled out of her mind. Nothing compared with the real Sam. She had just joined all of the women who smiled that secret smile when his name was mentioned after their one weekend in his arms.

  God, how would she survive without him?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Absently pushing a shopping cart, Hannah wandered the aisles of the home improvement store. Knowing Sam’s history, she’d expected one night, a weekend at most was all any woman ever got from him. She’d had Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning. He’d left this morning and returned with warm beignets and coffee.

  By nine-thirty, he had his duffle bag in one hand and his arm around her. “Ah, chère, I...I have to go. Maman, she expects me at church with her this morning. I’ll see you later, oui?”

  Yeah, sure, oui, my ass.

  She couldn’t believe she had bought into Mama Cezelia’s patter that this scent made specifically for her would attract her true love. Wear it around him and he couldn’t resist her. Hell’s bells, she and Sam had darn near bathed in it this weekend.

  And where was she now? Alone, in the superstore looking at hardware she didn’t know how to use. Why? Because it reminded her of Sam.

  The heavy seam of her jeans rubbed her thong against her still swollen clit. Every step down the aisles reminded her of the erotic awakening she’d experienced. Damn it, she’d never be able to look at her dining room table, kitchen island, sofa, her deck lounge or any piece of furniture in her house the same way again. It looked like she was going into debt redecorating.

  No more Mama Cezelia’s special oil. When she returned home, it was going into the trash. From now on, the only oil in her kitchen would be plain old EVOO.

  “What you lookin’ for, chère?” Sam’s thick, honeyed drawl flowed over her, raising her temperature to an unhealthy hundred five.

  She straightened and turned to him. In heels, they were at eye level. At least she wasn’t looking up at him. No, she had the pleasure of seeing he was freshly shaved and in clean, casual jeans and a white oxford shirt. A waft of Mama Cezelia’s oil hit her, weakening her resolve. It took all her willpower not to lean forward and sniff his neck. Why was she had never noticed the hint of musk?

  He cupped her chin and leaned in to kiss her.

  The damned man had dabbed a bit on his pulse points. “How did you find me?”

  “You weren’t at home, so I drove here first, hoping I’d find you here, because this—” He waved at the aisle. “—is where we changed our lives.”

  “Changed our lives? What do you mean by that?”

  He grasped her hips and pulled her hard against him, his erection pressing against her abdomen. “I want you, chère, not for one night o’ one weekend, but forever. I know your maman and papa are gone. So, I ask Maman if she want another daughter. Maybe some beautiful grandbébés. I told her I have this teacher—”

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Oui.”

  “And you asked your mother first?” She bit back a grin as his ears turned red.

  “Ah, chère, Maman, she needs to know first so if you say non, she and Mama Cezelia can set about changing your mind.”

  “Well, in that case, I guess I’m going to have to say, yes.”

  “Bon. This morning Maman talked to Pére Henri at the church. He said three weeks from Saturday is good day. Now that you’ve said oui, he will post the banns.” He reached into his front pocket and knelt before her. Taking her left hand, he slid an old-fashioned diamond ring onto her finger. “This was Maman’s. You’re family now, chère. There’s no gettin’ away from me, now.”

  She tugged him to his feet. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled at him, finally seeing beyond the laughter and fun to the love in his eyes. “Good, you’re stuck with me forever and more.”

  EPILOGUE

  Eight months later:

  “Quit growling, Sam. It’s my turn to be the teacher. Now, you stay still and quiet, unless you want to be gagged.”

  “Ah, chère, I can’t move. You have me handcuffed to the bed—hands and feet. That’s enough. I hate the blindfold. Watching you take me, that’s too much fun to miss.”

  She stared at her husband and grinned. “You like watching your bébé growing in me.”

  “That, too.”

  As he knew it would, his endearing and sheepish expression broke her resolve. Every day their love grew stronger. She was the envy of the parish, at least the female side. The male side was still trying to figure out how she, Hannah Thibodeaux née Mattay, a schoolmarm, had captured their hero, the infamous Sam Thibodeaux.

  If they only knew, but she sure wasn’t going to tell them.

  She slowly took one of his balls in her mouth. “Stay still, Sam,” she muttered as he attempted to arch off the bed, using his heels for leverage. Moving up to his cock, her tongue traced the prominent vein to the smooth, purpled head, while one hand cupped and rolled his balls. She licked and sucked the throbbing penis in rhythm to his growing moans.

  “Chère, you torturing me.”

  “I’m playing, Sam. You taught me how. Remember?”

  “Mon Dieu.”

  Mon Dieu indeed, she thought as she lowered her mouth over him, taking him as far as possible. Her hand clenched around his him kept perfect time moving up and down with her lips and tongue.

  “Chère, ride me, now!”

  “Later.” Now, she wanted his slightly salty cum in her mouth. Swallowing each warm, hard, spurt of his seed, she reveled in her power and their love. His b
reathing subsided and the tension faded from his muscles as she licked the final drop and smiled.

  She winked, released his legs and arms, and then positioned herself on his still hard shaft. “Get ready, bateau man. My pirogue is ready for your pole.”

  He leaned forward as he pulled her down toward his mouth and sucked and nibbled on each breast before kissing his fingers and pressing them to her barely rounded belly. “I’m always ready for you, chère.”

  ***

  Watch for

  Sophia del Fuego’s

  August 2011 Release

  Airport Layover

  Excerpt Below

  Gracie Snow sauntered into the airport boarding area. Her dad had called and said the Marine Captain on her flight had arrived oh-dark-thirty on the Red Eye from the Washington. He had spent a short tour at Quantico after Afghanistan, training for his posting to the Embassy as the Deputy Military Attaché, and she was under instructions to make him feel welcomed. Far be it from her to disobey orders. She was a good, well-mannered Georgia girl who obeyed her elders. Of course, her understanding of welcoming might be a tad different from her father’s, the great Ambassador Snow, political appointee extraordinaire.

  She scanned the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on a man with a duffle bag at his feet. Although, regulations now demanded military personal wear civilian clothes, even in a casual shirt, jeans, and running shoes, his sidewalls were a giveaway. He was a Marine to the core.