Jacked Up (Hard n' Dirty)

by Jane Henry

  Bullshit.

  “Tanya,” I say warningly, but she sets her jaw and her eyes go flinty. For fuck’s sake. Yeah, I’ve got no patience for this shit.

  “Give me your hand,” I order.

  She shakes her head from side to side.

  So that’s how we’re gonna play it. I know she’s just freaked out, and some people act crazy when they’re scared, but this isn’t cool.

  I lean in and take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to maintain eye contact with me.

  “Do you remember what happened to you in the shop today when you didn’t do what you were told?”

  She swallows and looks away but nods. She shifts a little on her seat.

  I continue in a low, steady voice, so I don’t freak her out but she understands my point. “You want that to happen again?”

  She doesn’t answer, and I stifle a chuckle. She does.

  “The next time won’t be the kind of spanking you like, little girl,” I warn her, but the threat only seems to make her even more eager. She licks her lips. I remember her response in the office earlier, but at this point I’ll use whatever tool I have to get her to cooperate.

  “Now you do what daddy says and give me your hand, Tanya.” I give her a stern, warning look. “Now.”

  She bites her lip and offers me her hand, wincing when I remove the tissues.

  “Good,” I say gently, taking her hand in both of mine. “So let’s get this cleaned up so I can get a better look, okay?”

  She nods silently.

  I find a washcloth in the bathroom, wet it in warm water, squeeze it out, then return to her and gently dab the wound. It’s actually nowhere near as bad as I suspected, and after I clean it up, a few bandaids do the trick. Her hand shakes in mine when I place the last bandage in place.

  We’re so wrong for each other. I’ll ruin her. Tear her pretty little clothes and mark that perfect skin. But I can’t help myself. I’ve always wanted class. She’s fucking perfection.

  When she’s good and cleaned up, I take her hand to my mouth and place a gentle kiss on top. She needs a gentle touch to come undone and fuck if I can’t be the one to give it to her.

  “Good girl,” I say approvingly, watching as a small smile tugs at her lips. I like my women to submit to me, and I can’t help but go all daddy on a girl like Tanya. I need to get to know her better, but if I have my way, that’ll involve her legs wrapped around me while she screams daddy. I’m crouched in front of her, her legs are slightly apart, and my cock gets hard at the shadow between her knees.

  “Thank you,” she says in a husky whisper that makes my dick hard. She swallows and licks her lips. My mind goes to those gorgeous, slightly parted knees in front of me. All I’d have to do is spread those knees, hike that skirt up a little more…

  Without a word I let my hand rest on her upper thigh. “Do you need something for the pain?” I ask, giving her a gentle squeeze. Her breath catches and she parts her knees just a little bit more.

  “I’m good,” she whispers.

  I move my hand up higher, so that the knuckle on my middle finger grazes the hem of her skirt. I shake my head.

  “You’re not,” I tell her, leaning in so my mouth is against her ear. “I should punish you for lying.”

  Her full breasts heave with the effort of breathing. “Maybe you should,” she whispers.

  With both hands on her thighs now, I let my thumbs roam higher, so close my hands are fully under her skirt. “I’ll have to think about the best way to punish you,” I say into her ear. “Should I take you across my knee?”

  She moans.

  “Maybe I should bring you to the edge of coming and leave you there, swollen and hot and ready to split wide open,” I tease, taking her lobe between my teeth and gently biting.

  Her breath gets all ragged.

  “Maybe I’ll clamp those nipples and leave you tied spread-eagled while I torture you?”

  She whimpers.

  “Or should I lay you over that bed and whip you with daddy’s belt? Make you finger yourself and dream of daddy’s fingers on that sweet little pussy? You’ll have to earn those, baby, by being a good little slut for daddy.”

  She stops breathing then, like she’s on the cusp or orgasm already and one breath of air will make her shatter.

  “All of that,” she whispers. “I…need to be punished with all of that.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. She’s giving me the green light to fulfill whatever fucking fantasy I want. I thread my fingers through her long, thick, silky hair, and pull her head back.

  “Let’s start by taking those clothes off,” I order. “Take off everything but your panties. Those, princess, are mine.”

  I release her and stand, crossing my arms on my chest so I can make sure she does what she’s told. I’m not fucking around when I tell her what to do. I want to see my handprint on her ass when I fuck her, my teeth mark on her neck when she screams my name.

  Her eyes on me, she lifts her top from the hem and slowly rakes it up over her skin, then stands and shimmies out of her skirt. Full, luscious breasts half-covered by a push-up black lace bra. Lightly tanned, silky skin just waiting to be marked. Hips that gently slope to full, beautiful thighs, a pussy with a matching silk thong I want to rip between my teeth. She has the smallest heart tattoo on her left hip, and her little toenails are painted red.

  “You’re beautiful,” I say truthfully. Before she can respond, I cross the room to her, weave my hands through that mane of chestnut, tug her head back, and take her mouth in mine. This is no gentle lover’s kiss. Her lips are soft and taste sweet as honey. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and neck, and I pull her torso flush against my body. I kiss like this is the last night we have. Like it’s the first kiss she’s ever gotten and I want it to be memorable. Like tomorrow might not come. My dick’s hard against her belly. I cup her ass and she moans. With effort, I pull away.

  “I’ve been thinking about that spanking all day, daddy,” she breathes. “I need more.”

  “Bed,” I rasp out. “Get on your knees for daddy.”

  She obeys, scrambling to her knees. I slap her ass and gently push her belly down. “That’s a girl,” I say, when her back arches. She puts her hands directly out in front of her and the curve of her ass begs for another swift spank. “Very good girl. Not so good she didn’t earn herself an ass whipping,” I say, chiding her. I reach for the clasp of my belt and unfasten it. With a whir and tug, I pull it through the loops.

  She whips her head around and looks to the side at me, her eyes wide and curious, but she doesn’t lose her position. I double the belt in my hands, pull the end and snap! Her fingers tighten on the bedspread as I rear it back, then swing the leather against her naked skin, the thong doing nothing to protect her from the strap. A red mark blooms on her gorgeous skin and she yelps a little, then falls right back into position and arches her back.

  She wants more. Harder.

  I whip her again with the belt, stripe after stripe landing in criss-crossed red marks across her ass. “You gonna be a good girl for daddy?” I ask her, before I deliver half a dozen more vicious swipes of the best.

  “Yes, daddy,” she moans.

  “If I touched your sweet pussy right now, would I find you wet for daddy?”

  She groans and whimpers, rocking her hips a little. “Soaked.”

  She’s so damn unencumbered. God, I need to fuck this woman and make my claim. I give her three more hard licks with the belt, each swish and thwack making me harder. I let it fall to the floor and take a condom out of my wallet.

  “You need daddy’s cock in that pussy,” I grit out. She looks over her shoulder at me and nods with vehemence.

  “Please,” she begs.

  I unfasten my jeans and take out my swollen cock, slide the condom on, then come up behind her. I take her hair and let it tumble over her shoulders, bring my mouth to her ear and whisper. “I fuck hard, princess. It’s how I like it. But I kno
w you can take it.”

  She grins and says the one thing that’ll make me even harder. “Yes, daddy.”

  I position behind her and line my cock up at her entrance. I moan at the feel of her hot pussy on my cock head. I tease the very edge of her pussy, draw myself across her clit, slide up and down her channel, teasing her. She moans and wriggles her hips, but I slap her ass. My handprint blossoms on her skin. I anchor myself on her hips and plunge into her to the hilt. Fuck, she’s tight and hot and wet. My vision blurs, and I groan.

  “Jesus,” I curse. “Fucking Christ.”

  She pushes back against me and I spank her again. “Chest down,” I bark out, keeping her in place by fisting my fingers in her hair and tugging at the scalp, muttering filthy oaths, and my words are lost as I plunge into her again and again. She’s arching her back, ready to climax, her fingers gripping the bedsheets.

  “Come,” I order her. “Let yourself go.”

  A slow moan builds to a bigger crescendo. She’s whimpering and shifting and panting. I slam into her again and again, until I’m ready to blow. Her orgasm tears through her and she screams. Her head’s thrown back, her forehead dotted with perspiration. The sound of her coming pushes me right over the edge and I chase my own ecstasy with her name on my lips. I come hard and fast, groaning into her ear.

  We slump to the bed exhausted and sated. I bend down and brush a kiss against her temple. Her eyes are closed and she’s smiling.

  “Seriously amazing,” she whispers. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before in my life.”

  I run my fingers through her hair. “Never? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  She smiles. “Not everyone fucks like that, Levi. Seriously. This comes as a surprise to you?” She’s giggling. I reach down and tickle her side which makes her laugh out loud.

  “And not everyone fucks like you.” I tell her. So goddamned receptive to my belt. My deepest fantasies involve whipping off my belt and striping an ass like hers, then fucking her from behind with her heated, spanked ass pressed up against me. She opens one eyes and looks up to me.

  “Legit?”

  That makes me laugh out loud. “Legit.”

  “Well,” she says thoughtfully. “We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

  I bend down and kiss her temple again. “We do.”

  I pull out of her, noting that she whimpers a little. The princess likes my cock in her pussy. Jesus, she’s perfection. I clean her up then sling my jeans on and pad into her kitchen bare-chested.

  She comes into the kitchen wearing my t-shirt, and it’s all I can do not to push her up against this counter and fuck her again. We’ll get there.

  “You hungry?” I ask her.

  “Starving. Like not even kidding you. I’ve had nothing but M&M’s and coffee today.”

  I turn and raise an eyebrow at her. “What the hell?”

  She shakes her head. “For real. You like Indian?”

  I shrug. “I like food. Don’t much care what it is.”

  “Perfect.” She grabs a stack of menus she’s got attached to her fridge with a magnetic clip. “Let’s get Indian. It’s fast and delish.”

  We hang in her kitchen and chat. She’s still standing there with mussy, just-fucked hair and her nipples poking straight through my t-shirt and I’m leaned up against her counter, barefoot with nothing but jeans on. It’s weirdly comfortable and doesn’t feel like the one-night stand it’s meant to be.

  Thirty minutes later, we’ve got several white boxes and a few wax paper bags with flat bread things.

  “What the fuck’s that?”

  “Naan,” she says with a grin. “Try it.”

  I actually like it even though I’ve never had it before. She chows down on chicken with a spicy yellowish-orange sauce and little triangle-shaped things stuffed with veggies, and I eat everything she serves me. We talk comfortably. I guess there’s something about bandaging up a girl’s wound, having her call me daddy, spanking her ass and fucking her soundly that’ll bring a couple closer together or some such shit.

  Doesn’t matter. Fuck one night stands. We’ll make this a two-week stand and then go our separate ways.

  Whatever it is, I like it.

  We clear the table and she puts the leftovers away. I rinse her dishes and put them in her dishwasher in amicable silence.

  “Are you…hanging around for a while?” she asks.

  “Well, I’m a little worried about that cut on your hand,” I say to her, running a hand through my hair. Her hand’s fine and we both know it. I give her a wink. She bites her lip. And the next thing you know, she’s up in my arms with her legs wrapped around my waist. I’m holding her by the ass and backpedaling her to her bedroom, my dick straining for release against my jeans, her full ass pressed up against me.

  I drop her on the bed. She bounces and looks up at me, her eyes bright. I kneel down, one leg on either side of her, capture her wrists, and pin them above her head, then lower my mouth to hers and kiss her long, slow, and deep, a silent conversation that needs no more words than this. I’ve had one night stands and I’ve fucked women whose names I didn’t even know, but this? This is different. She’s holding nothing back for me, and I can tell just by the way she is now that this is new territory for her. I love that. She’s never been taken like this. Loves being dominated. And fuck if I don’t want to give her exactly what she needs.

  When I pull my mouth off hers, she whispers, “you’re my boss, though. There’s something a little taboo about this.”

  “In two weeks, I’m firing you,” I tell her.

  She grins. “I don’t have much incentive to behave myself, then, if I’m already getting fired.”

  “You forget those spankings? Maybe you need another reminder.”

  “Fuck,” she groans. Then her hands are scrambling at the shirt and my hands are fumbling at my jeans and we’re ready for round two. This time I hold her wrists above her when I slide into her sweet, soft folds. This time she closes her eyes when she arches her back, her ecstasy matching mine when we both chase our release. I tumble beside her sweaty and sated and panting when my phone buzzes.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mumble at the same time she says, “my car!”

  And sure as fuck, when I answer the phone, it’s Grease.

  “Where is she?” he asks. For a second I wonder why the fuck he wants to know where she is, when I realize he’s asking because he needs to know her address to drop her car off. Jesus, I have to get my shit together.

  Do I want to keep us together a secret?

  “Just a minute.” I hit mute just to be safe and look over at her.

  She whispers her address, I give it to him, then I shut the phone off and lay down beside her. With a sigh, she hitches a leg up on my mine and lies her head on my chest, like it’s the normal, natural thing to do. Snuggling. I don’t snuggle with girls but with Tanya, I’ll give it a go.

  “Could complicate things,” I tell her.

  “Yeah,” she says, her eyes closed already. “I mean there’s the whole friends with benefits thing. A boss with benefits though?”

  We’ll just have to play it carefully. I’m not worried about my employees. I’ve got nothing to hide. Her father, though. That’s another story.

  “If your father catches wind I’m working on his car, there’ll be hell to pay,” I remind her. “If he finds out I’m fucking his daughter.”

  She opens her eyes. “Ok so the last thing I want to talk about right now, when I’m lying next to you, and I just screamed your name when I came, is my father.” She grins and tugs at the hair on my chest, flashing me a coy grin. “I’d rather just talk to my daddy.”

  I chuckle and give her hair a little tug. “I like that.”

  She sobers and places her hand flat on my chest. “I’m glad…daddy.” Her cheeks are flushed, but I’m not sure if it’s a post-sex glow or she’s embarrassed.

  “You’re a good girl,” I say. “Gotta to make sure your car’s ok
ay.”

  I get dressed to head downstairs so it doesn’t look too suspicious when Grease shows up with the car. Before I leave, I disable the thumbprint recognition on the door so I can come back in and not disturb her. She’s tired. Probably the first day the girl’s worked like this, and she’s wiped. Plus I like the idea of coming back to her still in bed.

  For a little while, when I was tucked up in all things Tanya, I forgot that she’s in a fucking penthouse. That the elevator doors gleam with their mirrored interiors, and a goddamn chandelier hangs in the foyer. When I step off into the main area, a couple stops and stares. The man’s wearing a black three-piece suit. He’s clean-shaven and balding, with gray hair at his temples and a receding hairline. The woman wears a black evening gown, with silver sequins around her neck, and her jewelry is so heavily laden with diamonds she’s practically blinding me. She scowls at me as I step off the elevator, and her husband peers down his nose at me in my work clothes and tats.

  I never really care what people think, but it’s a reminder to me that this is Tanya’s crowd. Her father is one of them. They scorn blue collar laborers like me. I scowl right back at the bitch in a gown and tip an imaginary hat to her. Jesus. Like money makes you better than anyone else. I own the most well-established fucking classic car shop in America for Christ’s sake, and I know the value of my assets and inventory. I earned every fucking penny myself, unlike half of these idiots who had it handed to them. I just don’t go around flaunting money like a goddamned sheik.

  The woman in the gown huffs out indignantly and mutters something to her husband about “better security” and “lapses in judgment.” I ignore her and keep walking. I do turn heads with these damn tats in a place like this, which is maybe a strategical error. Fuck that.

  And as I go into the street and flag Grease down, I show him where to park her car in the lot, and I wonder to myself. Will there be a next time? Or is this a one-off?

  When I get back to the apartment, I let myself in the apartment. I toss her keys on the counter, kick my shoes off, and let myself really look at her place.

  Her living room is decorated in shades of blue and white, like a beach-themed retreat. It’s pleasing to the eye and comfortable looking, not severely modern or desperately country and homespun, but something in between. It’s clean but not impeccable. She’s got a stack of magazines on the coffee table, a laundry basket with folded yoga pants and tops, and a shitload of plants on a window with some leaves strewn around the bases. A pile of blankets sits on one sofa, and her desk has a stack of papers on it. I walk to the desk, eyeing the framed prints curiously. Is it her family? Siblings? From where I stand I can’t see them.