by J. S. Cooper
Aiden took me over his knee then, and I felt his hand hard against my butt as he spanked me. “That’s for saying I’m going grey,” he muttered and spanked me again.
I wiggled on his lap and groaned as I felt his fingers gently rub against me as he caressed my stinging ass. I heard a small gasp and knew that Tom could see everything. I opened my legs slightly to give him a better view.
“Are you enjoying this?” He spanked me again, and I closed my eyes as he continued with his foreplay.
“Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir.”
“Impertinent little...” he growled, and I jumped up and pushed him back down on the bed.
“Impertinent little what?” I whispered as I quickly unzipped his pants.
His cock stood to attention as my mouth descended on him. I licked along his shaft and played with his balls, and I could feel his breathing growing heavy.
“Fuck. You know just how to turn me on.” He groaned as I continued to take him deep into my mouth.
“That’s why we’re so good together.” I laughed and then moaned as he flipped me onto my back. He jumped up, flipped me over and I felt his hand rubbing my ass before smacking it again.
“You don’t suck me until I say you can.” He grunted at me, and I lay there smiling into the bed.
I thought it was funny when he tried to act dominant. Part of Aiden’s midlife crisis was his deciding to take on the role of an alpha male. Not that I minded. I liked it when a man took control.
“Uh huh,” I whispered into the sheets. Then I groaned as I felt him smack me again and then slip two fingers into me.
I came as soon as his fingers entered me. I was already worked up from Tom’s tongue, and now Aiden had pushed me over the edge. Knowing that Tom was witnessing everything was the icing on the cake. I’ve often wondered why that was such a turn-on and I don’t know why. Tom and I have never discussed it. I mean, who was he to say anything to me? He wasn’t my boyfriend. And while Aiden was, it wasn’t like I was his one and only. Shit, to Aiden, I was a sexy plaything. Someone who gave him pleasure. And I was happy to be that person to him. Like I said before, I didn’t do love.
***
“Tell me three things you like about Aiden.” Natasha sat back smugly and grinned.
“He’s hot, he’s good in bed, and he has money. Lots of money.” I sipped on my Tequila Sunrise and grinned back at her. “He’s the reason why we’re sitting in the Red Lounge right now in a booth.”
I gestured to all the other girls who were dancing by the booths, hoping that some rich man would invite them to sit down. They were living the sucker’s life. I was no sucker. I wasn’t going to go to an exclusive club and hope that a man would see my beauty and deign to make me a VIP for the night. Only dumb girls did that.
Natasha looked back at me, unblinking. “Tell me three things that aren’t superficial.” That was what I liked about Natasha—she didn’t play nice or dumb. She cut straight to the point. It was funny how stuff like that worked. She saw everything around her clearly—except for what her husband, Brad, was truly like. She had blinders on where he was concerned.
“You think that it’s superficial that he’s like dynamite in bed?” I raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes.
At this point, you would think that she would get the hint. I wasn’t going to budge from my stance. I had never budged. It was always about sex for me. Love didn’t exist to me. I thought that romantic love was a farce. I mean, lust was where it’s at. How many men do you know who can keep it zipped up for fifty years married to one woman? I don’t know any.
“Come on. Don’t you want to fall in love?” She gave me one of her looks.
“No.” I shook my head, answering honestly. It was true. I didn’t care about falling in love. In fact, it was the one thing I dreaded most.
“Once you fall in love, you’re going to realize that—”
“Natasha, I’m in love with Aiden’s dick!” I said loudly. “Isn’t that good enough?”
The people in the booths next to us looked at me as if I were a criminal just escaped from prison. I looked back at them and smiled sweetly. I didn’t give a shit what they thought about me. Who were they?
“You’re too much. You know that, right?”
“That’s why you love me.” I jumped up onto the table and started dancing to the pulsating music. It was loud and it was fast, but I moved my body slowly, gyrating my hips as I moved to the bottom of the table and back up.
As I danced, I noticed a guy standing next to the bar, staring at me. I closed my eyes, moved my hips even more sensuously, and shook my hair. I opened my eyes again and saw that the guy had moved to a position even closer to me and was watching me openly.
He was pretty cute. Maybe six feet tall, with bulging muscles and a thick head of straight, black hair that had been recently gelled. He looked like he was an Italian bonehead, but who was I to judge?
We made eye contact and he gave me a small nod and a smile. I turned away from him then and continued dancing. I looked down at Natasha and she was laughing at me. That was what I loved about her. She was one of the girls who always had my back no matter what I did.
I pulled my top off then and threw it into her lap. Her eyes widened as I danced in my half-cup Victoria’s Secret push-up bra. I felt my breasts bouncing as I danced and I grinned to myself. I could see about five other guys staring at me now, hoping for an accident. I reached up, grabbed my breasts, squeezed them as I danced, and closed my eyes.
It was only about a minute before the Italian stud walked up and grabbed me off the table.
“Hey, what are you doing, big boy?” I whispered up at him breathlessly.
And no, I wasn’t breathless or taken away by him coming and grabbing me. I really wanted to say, “What took you so long?” but a lesson I’ve learned is that you have to make the man feel like he’s in control. He needs to feel like he’s the one making decisions. He chose me. He doesn’t want to know that I’d spotted him from across the bar, jumped up on the table to turn him on with my dance, and sealed the deal by taking my shirt off and grabbing my breasts.
Let’s be real—grabbing my own breasts does nothing for me. I clean them every fucking day in the shower. You think I wanna orgasm every time I check them out? But that’s part of the fantasy for men. They think that what they wanna do is what you wanna do.
“What’s your name?” he growled into my ear as he carried me to the wall at the side of the bar.
I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me. I liked a strong man. I wasn’t light as a feather either, so he had to be bench-pressing a good amount.
“Onlegs,” I whispered, and he frowned.
“Sorry. Did you say onlegs?” he repeated, and I grinned.
“Yeah, I’m sex on legs.”
“Sex on legs?” he repeated like a dummy for a minute. “Oh,” he grinned as it dawned on him. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Sexy.”
“You too, Rambo.”
“Sorry, what?”
“You’re Rambo for the night.” I reached up and caressed his hair. “Every Italian stud is Rambo in my eyes.”
“My name’s Antonio.”
I wanted to laugh in his face. As if I cared that his real name was Antonio. He was cute enough, but I could tell from his watch, shoes, and cologne that he wasn’t a guy I needed in my life. I was pretty sure his whole outfit cost less than my bag.
“So, Rambo, what’s the plan for the night?”
“Wanna go back to my place?”
“No.” I made a face. I had a feeling that he was from the Bronx. And there was no way I was going back to the Bronx.
“We can go back to your place.” He looked at me eagerly, probably figuring out that I didn’t live in the Bronx and was getting excited about living it up for a night.
“Hell no.” I shook my head.
“So what, then?” He looked annoyed, probably thinking that he’d carried me for nothing.
; I could feel his hardness pressed up against me and I was pleasantly surprised by the size of him.
“Don’t tell me you’re just being a teasing bitch.”
Okay, just so you know—no one calls me a bitch. It’s one of those words that gets my juices burning. There was no way I was going to let Rambo get away with calling me a bitch, but I’m smart enough to not get angry right away. What does that serve? If I gave him a slap and walked away, he’d be like, “Stupid bitch,” and move on. No, I was going to teach him a lesson.
“I’m not a tease.” I giggled up at him and pressed my boobs against his chest while reaching down and grabbing him through his jeans.
His body went still with shock and pleasure. I know that I said earlier, “Don’t show a guy that you can take charge,” but that’s while he’s still pursuing you. Once you’re with him, you should go in for the attack. Show him who’s boss. Take what you want. Trust me, with most men, you’d better know what you like and how to get off or you’re going to be suffering through some boring sex for a long time. ‘In out, in out’ doesn’t get anyone off if he’s not doing it right.
“So what you got planned if you don’t wanna go to my place or your place?” he muttered, and I tried to hide my distaste.
At this point, any classy guy would say, “Let me take you to a hotel,” and if it’s the Ritz Carlton or Trump International, he’s got a good chance of hearing me say yes.
“Who says we have to go anywhere?” I leaned up and kissed him. His lips were soft and tasted like gin—not my favorite taste, but it wouldn’t make me puke.
“I like where you’re going with this.” He looked down into my eyes, and I felt his fingers fumbling around at the back of my bra.
His tongue entered my mouth as he finally got the bra undone, and I was pleasantly surprised that he was a good kisser even if his fingers weren’t the deftest. He pushed me forward slightly and pulled up my bra. I shivered slightly as the cold air hit my skin but didn’t hide my naked breasts from him or from the two guys who were standing next to us and gaping. I gave them a small smile as I pressed my breasts into Rambo’s chest. I turned slightly to make sure Natasha was okay and I saw her laughing and texting on her phone.
“What are you doing?” Rambo frowned as I turned around.
“I want to dance.” I started moving my ass against his crotch as his fingers reached up and grabbed my breasts gingerly.
I knew he wasn’t prepared for this. It was okay for me to be dancing by myself in public, but I knew he felt uncomfortable with our public display. My naked breasts were bouncing for all the room to see and his fondling of them showed his discomfort. I grinned as I moved. I was taking all of the power away from him and he didn’t even know it. I felt bad for Rambo. In all likelihood, I would have gone into the bathroom with him for a quickie, but he’d ruined that opportunity with one word. I was about to show him what a bitch could really do.
The guys next to me were entranced by us both now. I knew that it would only be minutes before everyone knew what was up and I was getting kicked out, so I got to work quickly.
“Hey, big boy. Why don’t you show me what you’re working with?” I turned around and fluttered my eyelashes at him.
“Working with?” He frowned again, and I realized that he was way too slow for me.
I kept the smile on my face and reached my hands down his pants. “How big is your cock?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” He shrugged, and I could see his face going red. Pussy!
“I’d say about seven inches, big boy.” I squeezed him and ran my fingers down his girth.
“Uh—”
“Shh.” I leaned forward and kissed him. I didn’t think I’d be able to fake it for much longer. I unzipped his pants and pulled them down slightly.
“What are you doing?” He grabbed my hands to stop me.
“I want you to fuck me from behind.”
“Here?” He looked around, and I could hear the panic in his voice.
“Why not?” I grinned and pressed my breasts against his chest again.
“Uh, I...” he started, and I just yanked his pants down.
His cock stood to attention, and I stood in front of him and started dancing again. He grabbed my breasts and then started to massage my butt. One of the guys next to us looked like he was going to faint in shock and I winked at him before quickly grabbing his drink. I took a sip and then slowly turned around before pouring the drink over Rambo’s hard cock and pants.
“What the fuck?” He jumped back, angry.
“What?” I laughed, pulled my top back on, and grabbed my bra. “That’s what us bitches do.” I smiled sweetly at him and walked away, swinging my hips as I walked back to my booth. I collapsed next to Natasha and started laughing.
“Did you just fuck that guy?” she asked, not looking surprised.
“Nah, he missed out.” I shook my head.
“You shouldn’t be picking up strange guys in clubs.”
“Yes, Mom.” I rolled my eyes.
“You know that’s not cool.”
“Yawn.” I fluttered my fingers in front of my mouth.
“I wish you would find a guy and settle down like me and Brad have.”
“I don’t want a Brad.” I shivered as I thought about her husband.
“I want you to find love.”
“I’ve got love.” I grinned and hugged her to me. “I’ve got you.”
“Is that your bra?” She looked down at my lap.
“Uh huh.”
“Why don’t you have your bra on?”
“I don’t know.” I grinned at her.
“You did fuck him.” Her eyes widened, and I shook my head.
“Nope.”
“Liar.”
“I don’t lie.” At least I tried not to lie to Natasha. I figured that lies to your best friend weren’t worth it.
“What am I going to do with you?” She shook her head and laughed as she stared at me.
“Buy me another drink.” I grinned at her impishly.
“How about I buy you a drink?” A smooth voice interrupted our conversation, and I turned to see who had spoken. I was annoyed that a man had been listening to us talking and I hadn’t known.
As I looked into the guy’s blue-green eyes, I felt my heart stop for one brief second. There was a twinkle in his eyes and he had a devilish smile on his handsome face.
“I don’t think so.” I turned away from him and shook my head, trying to forget his handsome face.
“I don’t bite,” he said. “Unless you want me to.”
“What?” I frowned and stared at him.
“I don’t bite. What would you like to drink?”
“Nothing.” I turned back to Natasha, who was grinning at me.
“I’m Dominic, by the way. In case you wanted to know.”
“I don’t,” I muttered without turning back to him.
“What’s your name?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“That’s why I asked,” he continued, and I tried not to laugh.
That was the first time I met Dominic. I wish I could tell you that it was the day that I started to believe in love. I wish I could say that I turned around, accepted that drink, and rode into the sunset together. I wish I could tell you that it was the night where I suddenly realized that I could have the fairy tale. But it wasn’t.
That was the night that the beginning of the end began. That was the night that started a chain of events that changed my life forever. Dominic was a catalyst in my life—that is true. He was the man who changed everything. He was the man who made me lose myself even more than I’d been lost. And I have no one to blame but myself.
Ch
apter 3
I don’t care about love. It means nothing to me. I’ve told you that already. Men, for the most part, can’t be trusted. I know that. You know that. They know that. Do you know how many husbands I see at the club trying to get into my pants? As if I can
’t see the tan line on their finger from where they’ve taken their wedding ring off. It’s shameful. Love is a charade. A charade that men go along with so that they can treat women like crap and get away with it.
I sound bitter, don’t I? What got in this bitch’s bonnet? is what you’re thinking right now, right? Look, we’re not friends and I don’t care what you think of me, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I do care about love, just a little bit. It’s not an everyday thing. I don’t walk down the street looking for Mr. Right. I’m not online looking at rings, daydreaming of getting married on some white sand beach in St. Barths.
No, it hits me when I’m in bed late at night and I realize I’m all alone. Sometimes it hits me and I think, Is this it? That’s a powerful moment. We’ve all experienced it at some point. “Is this my life?” It’s scary. Not only because you realize you’re not fulfilled, but also because you don’t know what to do to fix it.
Sometimes I think, maybe a husband would provide me the security and the happiness I’m searching for. Maybe a man could fill that void. Then I think of all the problems that men bring with them and I know that’s not it.
I know it’s not a baby, either. Don’t get me wrong, babies are cute, but I need my sleep. Long, deep hours of slumber are the only way I can survive.
That was until I met Dominic. He turned my every thought and emotion on its head.
The Day Dominic Found Out My Name
If you believe in things like fate—which I don’t, by the way—you’ll think that my meeting Dominic at the coffee shop about a week later was a sign that we were meant to be together. I mean, he’s hot, I’m hot—what more could one want, right?
Everything seemed to go in slow motion that morning. I’d woken up feeling tired and uneasy. I’d rolled out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt and jeans without even thinking of makeup or underwear. I hadn’t even brushed my hair, just scooped it up into a ponytail. For some reason, I just needed to get out of the apartment. I wanted fresh air and a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee.
