Sensual Seduction: The Complete Collection (3 Volumes)
Page 7
I feel his hardness grow in my hand, and suddenly I know what Jon wants; he wants to dominate me once more, and he wants to pretend I’m a sweet virgin depending on him for my pleasure. Though the reality is far from the truth, I am depending on him for pleasure. I want his hot swollen flesh to penetrate me; I want to feel to his thickness fill me.
I climb atop him and allow the straps of my bra to fall down my shoulders. “Fuck me,” I whisper into his ear before he pins me to the sofa like the man he is. “What are you waiting for Jon, are you not man enough to fuck a girl?”
Jon steps up to the challenge, easing himself into me as if it’s my first time. I bite my lip and groan just the way he expects me to—scarcely able to move my wrists because of his hold on me. “Be gentle,” I pretend to plea as he moves back and forth carefully. “It’s my first time,” I lie.
“Not tonight, it isn’t,” says Jon as he picks up the speed. “Tonight you’re my dirty little play thing.” Suddenly, he seems to be delving deeper into me with each rhythmic push, hitting all the right spots. “You feel so good,” he moans, grazing my thighs and breathing heavily into my ear.
I feel his hands massage beneath my bra, circling my rose-tipped nipples. Jon then moves to banish the bra from my body, before suckling on my swollen nipples, all the while he’s satisfying my erotic desire. I want to him to go harder, and faster—but it’s not my place to ask. Jon’s in control and it’s up to him how fast he wants to go.
The salty sweat begins to pour from his brow, but I don’t care—I can scarcely take my eyes off his magnificent body. I watch as his muscles move with each thrust, and I feel everything! Jon certainly is fulfilling his promise to fuck me like I’d never been fucked before, and I simply cannot get enough.
Suddenly, Jon lifts me from the couch and moves me closer to his strong body. With my fingernails sinking into his back, I hang on tight as he thrusts and thrusts, and I involuntarily jerk at his pounding. I feel the full force of his masculinity as I push further into him, slowly losing all control over my body.
I feel my toes curl, and a familiar tingle race through me; this was it, this was what I had been waiting for. We move together in total harmony, each moaning the way lovers should do. But we aren’t lovers—not at all. This is work, nothing more. Suddenly his name is spilling from my lips; “Jon,” I cry as he holds me up with just one arm. My hips move uncontrollably and my body trembles. “I’m cumming, Jon,” I moan at him as I writhe in enjoyment, my breathing growing choppy, and my final moment of ecstasy about to wash away. The moment ends with his sweet lava flowing into me, giving him everything he’d asked for, and more.
Once I manage to catch my breath, I suddenly hate myself; I try to convince myself it was to protect Ethan, but the truth was I couldn’t fight my bodies urge. I needed to have what Ethan couldn’t give me, and in order to do that, I had to let Rachel take control. Well, never again! Rachel is now gone forever, along with every dirty little secret that she held— including Jon.
“That was amazing, Rachel,” said the man I couldn’t bear to look at, let alone hear that awful name again.
“You’ve had your final evening with me. This is it. We’re done. I don’t owe you anything. I want you to get dressed, and forget you ever knew me.”
“But, Rachel …”
“No, get out … please, just leave.”
I look away as he clothes his despicable body; whether he keeps his word or not is irrelevant, Rachel is gone for good, and I’ll never have to do this again. And so I wait, and wait, until I hear the door slam shut. It’s over, though there isn’t time to relax. I have to call him; I have to do this now!
Naked and free I stand with my cell pressed against my ear. All I hear is ringing, and more ringing, until suddenly …
“Hello?” A woman’s voice answers.
“Hello, who is this?”
“This is Candy, Ethan’s girlfriend. Who is this?”
Candy? What kind of name is Candy? Suddenly it’s all becoming clear. The strange behavior, lack of contact, and the excuses—he was seeing somebody else the whole time; and with a name like Candy, I have no doubt she’s a pretentious, young pretty thing he’s picked up at one of his shows.
I should cry. It would be a completely normal thing to do—but I can’t. A part of me wanted more than Ethan, a part of me wanted a man who could satisfy me the way Jon can. With Rachel, Ethan and Jon a thing of the past, I can now concentrate on a clean start; a future that’s not threatened by the past; a future with someone who can love me, hold me, and satisfy all my desires. This future will be mine, goodbye Rachel.
Sensual Seduction
Volume 3
Three Erotic Shorts
Vivian Duval
Sara Leigh
Elaine LaRue
There’s No Place Like Home
By Vivian Duval
“You can always tell by the air,” Amber thinks to herself as she walks out of the airport toward her rental car location. She took a deep breath of the sweet country air, heavy with the smell of corn stalks and farmland. It didn’t matter that she had watched from her window seat as the earth turned from pavement and steel to plowed fields and greenery, that she heard them call out her destination, or even that she caught a draft of that famous flat Midwestern twang in the voice of the rental guy. Once she smelled that air, she knew she was home.
Looking in the rear view mirror as she adjusted the boxy compact to her needs, she smiled. Perfect make-up, stylish clothes, her blond hair cropped short and over-styled framing her lean face, all told the story of her journey from “country girl with bigger dreams” to “city slicker most likely to fall off the hay wagon.” Amber, Garrett High School’s former “Most Likely to Succeed” was now “Miss Mclean” – overdressed, overstressed and out of touch.
“If you push this button here, you can type in the address of where you wanna go,” the rental attendant pointed to the GPS as she showed her ticket at the gate. “Take you most anywheres ‘cept some back roads, Miss.”
“Thank you,” Amber replied softly. Country folks were always so helpful. “I know my way home.”
“Do ya now?” He asked with a smile, clearly summing up her city exterior. The sweet air thickened between them as the question challenged her to acknowledge she left this life for the trappings of success only to discover she may have lost so much more than she gained. The roots she cut to fly to freedom were now desperately missing when she wanted to put her feet on the ground.
“I hope so,” she said softly. “I surely hope so.”
Garrett, Iowa was almost a two hour drive from the Des Moines airport, giving Amber time to think and get herself together before pulling into the driveway of her childhood home. She hadn’t seen the house since her sophomore year of college when she came home for Christmas. The years following found her spending holidays with friends, then an international internship, then work that couldn’t be left. But this summer mom brought out the big gun – Grandma Betty had cancer. Inoperable, slow growing but serious enough the whole family knew this year’s family reunion would be her last. The phone call was a good foretelling of her experience.
“Honey, it would be nice for her to see you. Everybody, really.” Mrs. Mclean didn’t like to whine but she missed her daughter terribly.
“Oh, Mom. Can’t I come in the fall and just see you guys and Grandma? Do I have to come to the reunion with every aunt, uncle, cousin, nephew, niece and friend asking me where I live, what I do and why haven’t found a nice fella to settle down?”
“She’s in good spirits now, but I’m not sure what fall will hold. If you’re going to see her – mayhaps sooner than later.”
“Mayhaps,” Amber mumbled, her Iowa accent emerging from the depths.
“Besides, there will be lots of people there and more people to focus on than just you. And why shouldn’t people want to know the story of my amazing daughter and her awesome job as a Senior Fund Hedge Management Person?”
“Yea, that. So, plan to stay at least a couple days. Dad and I want to some you-time too.”
“Alright, mom. I’ll be there.”
“Oh and honey,” Amber’s mom spoke with a humorous lilt in her voice. “Why haven’t you found a nice fella to settle down?”
Turning off the highway, she passed the road to the large grain silo known to the locals as “Liplock Lane” - the town’s predominant make-out spot. Rumor had it if you hadn’t been to Liplock Lane with a boy by the time you put on a cap and gown, you were destined to be a virgin forever. During high school she scoffed at such nonsense. Now, she worried it had come true.
“Great, I’m gonna be a local legend,” Amber thought as she took the side road to her family’s home. “Generations of teens will say, ‘Amber Mclean never went to Liplock Lane and look at her now – she’s a business woman who lives in an apartment with 300 cats and her legs have been closed so long her hips locked in place.’ Then they will all kiss each other and shudder.”
One more turn and she was rolling by the very reason for her prophetic and potentially eternal virginity – Chad Harkness. He was pulling weeds out of a flower bed and threw up a friendly, non-committal wave.
He probably had no idea who it was, she reasoned. But any car this far out in the country must be a friend. It’s not like he knew the rental car carried the girl who had loved him all her life with a pure and unrequited love. Why would he? He barely knew she was alive when she lived beside him and went to school with him. Why would he think of her now?
Amber scanned the yard for signs of a wife, a dog and two or three children but saw nothing but the pristine garden and his battered old F150 pick-up. Pulling into her parent’s driveway she hoped he wouldn’t notice her arrival or her visit at all. This whole reunion thing was awkward enough without her adolescent crush hanging around. She would just slip in the house and wait until he was out of the yard before bringing in her things.
“AMBER!” Her mom screamed as her parents spilled out of the house running toward the car. Her father got there first, scooping up his mortified daughter and giving her a big bear hug. Then her mother hugged and kissed her cheek. “LOOK CHAD! AMBER CAME HOME!!!”
So much for the subtle approach. Amber’s stomach knotted when she saw Chad drop the weed blade and stroll over to the fence.
“Howdy, Amber,” Chad tipped his hat in a grandiose gesture of greeting. His smile was charming and genuine, and his eyes travelled the length of her muscular gym-sculpted body. “It’s so great to see you again.”
“Hi, Chad. Me too. Well, I mean…it’s great to see you, not me. I mean. I see me every day…” Amber rambled nervously. Her mental age dropped from twenty-five to sixteen so fast she’s lucky her brain didn’t get the bends.
“Come on, dear. You can catch up with him later,” Mrs. Mclean said, leading her embarrassed tongue-tied daughter into the house while Amber’s dad got her suitcase.
“Moooom,” Amber whined, still in teen mode, after she closed the door. “Did you have to call out to him? “Geez, I’m not nervous enough about seeing the whole family this weekend and now I have to deal with Chad?”
“Oh, honey, don’t worry. Chad hasn’t changed a bit since you two hung out in high school together.”
“Nothing’s changed? No marriages? No kids?” She tried to look bored as she asked these questions though her interest was pronounced.
“Not really. Chad’s father retired last year and they moved down to Florida leaving him with house. There’s been women around now and again, but no one seems to last very long.”
The flutter Amber felt in her stomach upon seeing Chad had now grown into a full-blown heart-pounding, muscle-tightening possession. She remembered their many walks home from school with him teasing her about something and her awkward staring at the ground, sitting at his kitchen table pretending to help with his homework while he drew tanks and starships in the margins both knowing she’d just copy hers and put it in his locker the next day and saying his name every time she put a coin in Garrett’s charity wishing well. Once she put in five whole dollars of babysitting money so she could have 500 wishes that Chad would be her boyfriend.
Of course, all she got out of that investment was an awkward spin-the-bottle kiss in a closet during a party she pretended to regret, and had re-lived nearly every time her hand snaked down between her legs to give some much needed release. In her fantasy, the kiss was made of passion, not social pressure – and it was the beginning of the evening, not the end.
Amber spent the rest of the afternoon at the kitchen table gossiping with her folks about who did what with whom and why old lady Sauer really got arrested and whether the mailman was reading magazines before he delivered them. She confessed to her folks that she missed small town life, and working in the big city was definitely not all it was cracked up to be.
“I remember the summer you graduated,” her dad laughed. “You stood right on that porch watching that neighbor boy play touch football with his friends and said, ‘This town smells like dirt! I can’t wait to get out of here!’ And now, you’re talking about the harvest in the air.”
“I bet not everyone here smells like dirt,” Mrs. McLean mumbled. “Why don’t you go wash up and change your clothes for dinner, dear. Those travel clothes probably need a rest.”
Amber dutifully went upstairs, washed her face, took off her business slacks and put on a summer skirt with some strapless sandals and a loose blouse. The years of status seeking, social climbing and hard work melted away. When the doorbell rang, it dawned on Amber she hadn’t seen her mother cooking anything all day. She prayed it was her Aunt Lucy and Grandma Betty who were going to take them to dinner, and started down the stairs. By the time she got to the landing, she knew she wouldn’t be that lucky.
“Hello, beautiful you,” Chad said, her descent down the stairs filling his heart with joy.
“Um…Hi again, Chad,” Amber blushed. Realizing she had been set up, she looked for her mother to give her the scowling of a lifetime only to discover neither parent happened to anywhere near.
“I don’t have any homework, but if you’d like to come over I can give you homemade spaghetti and some lemonade.”
“I’d love that,” she held out her hand and let him walk her over to his place. He stopped along the way to point out some flowers, and some repairs he had made to the porch. They shared dinner and swapped stories – college adventures for her, working as a mechanic for John Deere for him. Her eyes followed his as he spoke, falling into their depth.
“This was a fantastic meal,” the visiting woman said as she wiped her mouth and put the napkin on the table.
“I hoped you would like it.” He picked up her napkin and placed it carefully by the sink – elated the smell of her perfume permeated the thin cloth. “It’s always a risk, you know. Cooking for someone you haven’t seen in so long.”
“Well, it wasn’t much of one,” Amber chuckled, looking for a Tupperware container on the counter. My mother has made her spaghetti like that since before I was born, and I always liked it. Why should I stop now?”
“Guilty,” the young man laughed and looked at the floor as Amber smiled with a superior grin. “Don’t be mad at her. She loves you.”
“Apparently she loves you, too!”
They stood in the kitchen through the awkward silence that followed their banter and finally made their way to the couch for an after dinner drink and small talk. He spoke of the simple pleasures of gardening and work, farm life and quiet nights.
“So, nice house, good job, hubba-hubba body and no girlfriend?” Amber raised her eyebrows to show she didn’t quite believe his tale.
“Well, stylish apartment, great job and hot-as-hell body and no boyfriend?” Chad retorted as she smiled at the speed of his comeback. “Country don’t mean slow.”
“I’ve dated a few men but no-one
very serious. Few made it past the first kiss and none have made it past first base. I would try to be interested but they just weren’t…well…um…they weren’t…”
“You.” Chad finished her sentence.
“They weren’t me?”
“I mean, my girlfriends - they weren’t you. I went through the same thing – dated some girls, got only so far – farther than you have – but still in the end – none of them compared to you, Amber. You’re the measuring stick I’ve used all these years and no one has been close.”
They both nodded as the pause returned back to the awkward silence. Chad poured the rest of the wine into Amber’s glass and started twirling the bottle around on the table. Unsure what to say next, he placed the bottle on its side and pointed it toward his guest.
“Wanna pick up where we left off?”
“What? Oh, ha ha…I get it. Spin the bottle. We did play that once in high school, didn’t we. I can’t say I remember too much about that,” she lied.