by Ariel Storm
“You aren’t wrong. I loved it there. It still feels like home to me, but I just needed a fresh start. I came here a while after my mom passed away. I guess I’ve been living in Los Angles for about five years now.”
We ate in silence a few moments before Jack spoke again.
“I can see why you’re a writer now. You seem to take a lot of things in, notice a lot of details that other people might overlook or brush aside. Yesterday you mentioned that you write mysteries. I think you said something about a series? Tell me about that, it sounds interesting.”
I smiled and my perfectly made up cheeks heated.
“It’s a recurring cast of characters. The story takes place in L.A. The lead character is a female and she’s a crime beat reporter for a small newspaper. The crimes that take place aren’t gory. This is what you’d call a light-hearted series. You know, kind of funny.”
I swirled the last drop of wine in my glass before taking a sip. “In fact, my heroine, Jane, is a bit like Lucille Ball’s character in I Love Lucy. She means well, but somehow trouble—along with clues to help solve the crimes—seem to follow her everywhere. Jane’s smart, but at the same time, she’s the perfectly lovable goofball.”
“That sounds like fictional escapism at its finest.”
“Thanks. Or at least, it will be if I can get back in the zone and start writing again. There’s still quite a few secondary characters that need to be developed, you know, when I finally shake this writer’s block.”
“Well, you sound like you’re committed to making this series happen, so I’m sure the words will start flowing again when you least expect them to.”
Jack stood and cleared the table. I watched the muscles in his back contract beneath the fabric of his shirt as he rinsed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.
“Feel free to have a seat on the couch. I’ll be over in a moment, I’m just cleaning up.”
“You’re certainly a great host.”
Once again, I nearly sighed at the comfort of his couch. I’d never sat on a piece of furniture that felt like what I imagined a cloud would be made of. My fingers brushed the material covering the armrest. Judging by the softness of the leather I knew it had to be expensive.
“Comfy isn’t it?”
Jack had stopped loading the dishwasher to watch me stroke his couch like it was a beloved pet.
“It’s pretty heavenly.”
“That’s the only thing I brought with me from New Mexico. It was a real bitch to get in the back of my SUV, but it was the first nice thing I ever bought for my house. I guess I brought it with me for sentimental reasons.”
“So, I take it all your family is back in Albuquerque?”
“Yes, what’s left of my family still live in the southwest. I have one brother who lives in Phoenix. My father’s in Albuquerque. He remarried a few years ago, but my stepmother doesn’t have any children of her own.”
“Do you get back to visit very often?”
“I try to go back every Christmas. How about you? Do you visit…Minnesota, wasn’t it?”
“You have an excellent memory. I like my southern California winters, so I usually only visit St. Paul in the summer.”
“More?”
He pointed to the glass I’d just emptied. A part of me wanted to say no, but I had to admit that the wine had helped the butterflies in my tummy to dissipate. I nodded and he emptied the contents of the bottle into my goblet. He finished loading the dishwasher and walked into the living room carrying his glass of wine. He took a seat on the other end of the couch.
“You know, I won’t even pretend to know anything about writing, but I seem to remember hearing somewhere that a famous author once said it’s best to write drunk and edit sober. Maybe you should give it a try.” He pointed to the empty chardonnay bottle. “I’m not saying drink an entire bottle yourself. Or to make it a habit of writing under the influence, but maybe a glass or two would help you to get over whatever it is that’s got you blocked.”
“Hmm, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. God knows my old method isn’t working anymore.”
“What was your old method?”
“People-watching. I had all these places I’d go. The airport, a pub, the park, the mall and sometimes…I’d look right out my picture window and take in the activity of the apartment complex.”
“You spied on your neighbors? Naughty girl.”
He made a clucking noise with his tongue that I found way hotter than I probably should have. I wanted to tell him just how naughty I’d become lately. Call it alcohol-induced courage, but I wondered if he might get a thrill out of learning about my voyeuristic tendencies. How would Jack react if he knew that I’d seen him with his submissives? Would it turn him on to know that earlier in the week I’d been ready to put on a peepshow for him in the community hot tub?
“You’ve gotten awfully quiet. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, Violet?”
A fire lit in my belly that had nothing to do with the wine. Jack thought I was beautiful and naughty? This man who I’d become increasingly obsessed with over the course of a few months was hitting on me. I couldn’t have been any more ecstatic if I’d just found out I’d won the lottery. In a way I guess I had. Having the attention of a man like Jack was no small feat. For whatever reason, I seemed to be keeping his focus and that wasn’t something I intended on letting slip through my fingers.
“Why does the idea of me spying on my neighbors fascinate you?”
“I don’t know it’s just an idea I have.”
He looked at me, his whiskey-colored irises seemed to be smoldering with barely restrained desire. At least that’s what I hoped it was that was making those beautiful eyes sparkle. He toyed with the stem of his wine glass and I knew it was a tactic to keep from talking. A man like Jack didn’t get nervous, he was simply playing coy. There was no way I could have that kind of effect on him. He edged a bit closer to me on the couch and that’s when I knew it was time for me to ask the question that had been burning in my mind since he’d brought up me spying on him.
“Are you worried I might’ve spied on you?”
“No, I wouldn’t say I’m worried.”
“Oh? Does it excite you, then?”
“And if I said yes?”
He gave me a smile, revealing straight white teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. I didn’t care how much it might turn Jack on to know I’d watched him through my window, I wasn’t going to cop to it. Sure, I’d fantasized about telling him in explicit detail, but I’d had so much wine I was afraid if I admitted it now I’d blurt it out in the unsexiest of ways. Even though it was very tempting to tell him, especially considering the way he looked at me. My nipples hardened and strained against the filmy fabric of my bra.
“Sorry Mr. Riley, you’ll just have to wonder. Even if I did spy on you, why would I ever admit to that? I’d have to be the world’s worst voyeur to admit it to the person I spied on, right?”
“Well, maybe I’m just not interesting enough for you to watch. Maybe I’ll have to start doing things worth watching.”
His words made me instantly wet.
“Tell me, Violet, is there something I could do that you’d like to watch?”
The phrase was spoken as a seductive challenge. Oh, the activities I’d love to see him do. I’d already fantasized about him stroking himself. There was also something about the idea of watching him do naked push-ups that stuck in my mind. The suggestion was on the tip of my tongue when Jack slid directly next to me on the couch.
“Maybe the time for watching is over with, huh? Perhaps we’ve moved into the time for action.”
With those words he leaned in and fused our mouths together. His lips were soft as he nibbled at mine, working them apart. The smooth, velvet texture of his tongue caressed the inside of my mouth. He wrapped his hands around my waist and urged me toward him. I straddled his lap and gripped his shoulders for leverage.
“God, I’ve wanted to
get my hands on this sweet ass of yours since you first walked in my door.”
Jack slipped his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. He cupped and squeezed me through the denim. He wasn’t the only one copping a feel. I tilted my pelvis toward him and let the bulge in the front of his jeans notch between my open thighs. The thick ridge of his cock pressed against my clit. Despite the layers of clothing between us, the contact was electric.
I leaned forward and tilted my pelvis toward him even more. He raised the hem of my blouse up my navel and bunched it around my waist. I let go of his shoulders and raised my arms to help him undress me. The light, delicate material made a whispering noise when it brushed against the lace cups of my bra. Without the encumbrance of a shirt, my breasts were much more accessible to Jack.
“This is nice,” he whispered and fingered the strap on my brassiere. It slid down my shoulder. “Mmm, so soft.”
His touch left me shivering. He traced the outline of my areolas until my nipples were puckered. The circles he’d drawn around and around on the outside of my bra cup were a form of exquisite torture. He leaned in and pressed his face in between my breasts.
I gasped when he flicked the hard bead of my nipple with his tongue. My hips had a mind of their own as they undulated against his denim clad erection. With every move of my pelvis I could feel the gushing of moisture seeping out of my pussy. Jack reached behind me and unhooked my bra. I raised my arms at my sides as he slipped it off me.
With my breasts fully exposed to his heated stare, doubt trickled in and my bravado slipped a fraction. I didn’t have much to work with up top. My meager breasts would barely fill a man’s palm. As confident as I was about my shapely derriere, I was disproportionately insecure about my tits.
Jack soothed my self-doubts when he reverentially worshipped that area. He fondled the globes of my breasts with his fingers, lips and tongue. I was panting by the time he moved to the center of my cleavage. His hand splayed along my sternum and he inched it up slowly until it stretched across my clavicle. He slid his way up the column, and keeping his palm at the base of my throat, wrapped his fingers around my neck.
I threw my head back and arched into his hold, into his control of me. I trembled with need and with curiosity over what would happen next. With his hand keeping me in place where he wanted me, he sucked and teased my breasts. He grazed my nipple with his teeth and I wiggled my ass on his lap.
Foreplay was awesome. I knew that delayed gratification could make the climax all the more intense. But with a man like Jack, someone that oozed sexual magnetism, I wasn’t sure that I could take much more fondling. Hell, if I counted all the time I’d spent watching and fantasizing about this moment, then that meant I’d already had months of foreplay.
“Jack, I’m about to melt here. Please, I need to come.”
I squirmed again, to really drive my point home.
“You’ll get off when I say you’re ready, but maybe we should get rid of these pants?”
“Yes, please…sir.”
He stilled. He lowered his hand from my throat. His gaze scanned my face. For the second time during our bump and grind session on the couch, heat filled my cheeks. Had I crossed a line that I wasn’t supposed to have crossed?
“How did you know to call me that?”
I shrugged.
“I might’ve lied to you earlier. Maybe I have watched you doing some interesting things.” I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Maybe you and I share some of the same interests, Master Jay.”
“You’re very wicked, Violet. Spying on me. Watching me with my submissives. Perhaps I should punish you for that bad behavior.”
His facial expressions grew dark and mysterious. The lush lips I'd been admiring all night formed a taut line. His jaw tensed and his eyebrows were furrowed. Jack really appeared to be angry with me. For some reason, it turned me on.
“Stand up.”
Not wanting to piss him off further, I slid off his lap and planted my feet on the floor. I wobbled slightly and brought my thighs together to steady myself. I could feel how incredibly drenched my pants were.
If I'd soaked through my own jeans then...
I glanced at his lap and was mortified. My face burned and I knew I was scarlet.
“Don't be embarrassed,” he said as he looked at the oval-shaped wet spot on the fly of his jeans. “I find the fact that you’re turned on enough that you've soaked through your jeans and onto me incredibly sensual. I won't wash these after I take them off tonight. I want to see that stain so I can remember just how wet I make you without even touching your pussy.”
My clit pulsed at his words. I was relieved and even more aroused than ever by his reaction. It was so hot to learn that I’d turned him on in that way. To know that Jack thought it was sexy that I’d leaked all over his pants was erotic as hell.
”Now, I plan on punishing you, you wild, wicked thing. Take off your shoes and pants but don't do anything else until I come back.”
I did as he said and watched him walk out of the room. The tension left my shoulders. I was so relieved that he found the damp spot I'd left on him hot. I kicked off my flats and peeled my skinny jeans down my legs. The thong stayed on my hips.
Jack entered the living room with his shirt off and a flogger in his hand. My nipples stiffened to the point of almost being painful. Obviously his idea of punishment was my idea of excitement. He sat on the couch and I stood in front of him, between his knees.
“We’ll probably have to work up to this.” He tossed the flogger onto the empty couch cushion next to him. “We can start with the tried and true method.”
He splayed his hand wide and wiggled his fingers for emphasis. Jack motioned for me to turn around, which I obeyed. I faced the wall and stared at the pictures of the New Mexico desert. Since I couldn’t see him it only enhanced the experience for me. I didn’t know what to expect, but as had been the case all night, Jack set the pace and tone. It was the most erotically frustrating experience of my life. He walked his fingers up the curves of my cheeks and rested them on the top of my rump.
“Such a perfect ass.”
A slap landed on my left cheek so quickly I jumped. The smack that came next was harder and the sound reverberated inside the room. He hit me again and I cried out, the pleasure equally matched to the pain. After three quick blows, he gave me a short break. Heat from his palms radiated against my skin. The slightly calloused surface of his hands massaged the sensitive area in a circular motion.
The lips of my pussy swelled and strained against the sheer material of my thong. I was dripping wet and dying for release. Something had to be done to relieve some of the pressure building inside. I brought my fingers to my nipples and plucked at the stiff points. Jack smacked my ass so hard it rocked me. I shifted my weight to regain more sure footing.
“That last spanking was for touching yourself. Drop your hands to your sides.”
I let go of my breasts and followed his command. Jack stood and steered me over to his small dining table.
“I should’ve just bound you from the beginning.”
He put his hand between my shoulder blades and guided me downward. The wood of the table felt cool under my cheek. With my head resting on the table, he caressed my hip and fingered the string of the thong. The material slid down the backs of my legs. Without the modicum of protection my panties provided the air was cool against my bare pussy. I stepped out of the two loops provided by the legs holes of my underwear.
Jack gripped my forearms and brought them in front of me. He positioned them together and wound my thong—now very wet and somewhat cool—around my wrists. I watched him tie a knot using the straps of my underwear.
“This way, you won’t be touching yourself. You’ll get off when I think you’re ready.”
“Yes, Master Jay.”
Goosebumps broke out all over my body. Everything about the turn the evening had taken was erotic almost to the point of being overwhelming. I didn�
��t think of myself as a prude or sexually inexperienced, but I’d never been tied up with my own skivvies before. I wiggled my forearms, testing out the hold. My hands wouldn’t budge. I was definitely bound and with my posterior naked and exposed before him, I was at his mercy.
God, it was hot.
“Violet, you force me to move on to the more aggressive methods a bit sooner than I’d hoped. You’ll get an extra lashing for that.”
The tongues of leather from the flogger grazed the side of my cheeks, first my right then the left in a sweeping figure-eight. He used the device to strike me again and I bit my lip. My fantasy was being fulfilled, Jack had gone from being my mild-mannered neighbor, to the experienced Dom I’d known he was inside.
Jack—Master Jay—continued his expert whipping and I gave myself over completely. I got lost in the exquisite prickling of pain from the leather, lost in the rhythm of the flogger’s tails against my ass, lost in the tingle and heat that spread across my skin.
Every once in a while Jack would give me a short break. He’d lightly rub my backside and the stinging would subside. I started to crave an orgasm the way the parched yearn for water. I widened my stance, leaned into the table more and angled my hips higher. My hope was that the wedge of glistening pink flesh between my legs would make Jack want to take me.
Instead, seeing my wet, swollen pussy only made him play even dirtier.
“Ahhh…sir. Holy hell that’s not fair.”
“I never claimed to be fair.”
He used the tails of the flogger against my vaginal entrance. The slower, softer rhythm he used on my pussy didn’t tingle the way it did when he hit me on the ass. It was a light slap that caused just enough pressure to make me throb. I squeezed my hands into fists so tightly that my fingernails dug into the meaty part of my palms. He kept at the task, making my breath nothing but short, shallow gasps.
