Brit Flick Sweethearts: A Rom-Com With Spanking

by Samantha Hyde

  “She needs help, sweetheart. The day I proposed to her, or rather you, I caught her snorting coke straight after.”

  Doris’s heart sank. “Oh, Dahlia,” she said sadly.

  “We’ll help her, baby. We’ll get her clean, I promise.”

  “We?”

  He smiled his famous, Curt Gunner smile and his whole face cracked open. The entire scene felt unreal. He was just so impossibly handsome. The wind whipped up his dark blonde hair and his blue eyes sparkled. He pulled his light overcoat more tightly around his broad chest, and something snapped inside of her. She figured it was the love she felt for him, spilling out of her all at once and she ran into his arms. The air left him in a rush, and she felt his strong arms circle her, drawing her close.

  His kiss left her dizzy and tears prickled her eyes.

  “I love you so much,” she said, squeezing him even harder.

  Without warning, he dropped to bended knee and pulled out a little blue box from his pocket.

  “Doris Dean,” he said, flicking open the lid to reveal a diamond ring. “Will you do the honour of being my wife?”

  “Yes,” she choked out, half sobbing, half laughing.

  “I love you so much, baby. From now on it’s just you and me,” he said, springing to his feet and bending her backwards in a Hollywood style cinch.

  The sound of a throat clearing behind them caused them to pull apart. Dahlia stood staring at them, her face one of abject misery.

  Still keeping his arm around his fiancé, Curt turned to face Dahlia.

  “Fancy a lift back to London, sister-in-law?” he asked with the gentlest of smiles.

  Doris held her breath and waited for her twin to answer. After a second or two, her face crumpled, and ever so slightly, she nodded.

  Doris breathed a sigh of relief.

  I really love him, she tried to convey with her gaze.

  I know, Dahlia silently replied with another, faint nod of her head and tears in her eyes.

  “You’ll let us help you?” Doris tentatively asked.

  Again, she nodded.

  Curt pulled his fiancé close and the three of them walked down Brighton Pier to a brand new future.

  The End.

  Thank you for reading, dear reader. Like I said in my introduction, as much as I adored writing it, Brit Flick Sweethearts is a huge departure for me. I am known for my dark erotica. We are not talking about a little bit of bondage here, we are talking dark. If you would like to find out more, I have enclosed the first chapter of my novel, In The Arms of The Devil. But I must warn you, the following story is not for the faint-hearted. It is the darkest exploration of love and lust and it will take you to the blackest place imaginable. If dubious consent sex and very very bad men offend you in fiction, then please do not read on. If this sounds like your kind of read, then I welcome you into my world of dubious consent sex, hardcore BDSM, submissive females and ruthless men. Hold on tight, it’s about to get rough…

  IN THE ARMS OF THE DEVIL: A DARKLY EROTIC NOVEL

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  He was perfect, just my type. Tall, broad shouldered and slim waisted. Longish dark hair. Icy blue eyes. Killer smile. Oh yes, he would do fine.

  “Sure. I’ll have an orange juice.”

  He raised one thick, sexy eyebrow.

  “A woman, alone in a bar, not drinking?”

  “I’m not here for the booze.”

  “What are you here for?”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “For you to fuck me.”

  I expected some kind of a reaction, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead he drew up a bar stool next to mine.

  “Are you a hooker?”

  “No, I’m just horny.”

  As I said it I swivelled around on my stool so I was facing him and opened my legs. I was wearing a short skirt, stockings and no knickers. I watched his face blanch, the way his eyes widened and the pupils dilating so much his blues eyes turned black. His gaze fixing on my cunt like that made me really wet and my clit ache to be touched.

  “You are a very naughty girl.”

  “I want it now,” I said, discreetly and fleetingly putting my hand between my legs and allowing myself a teasing hard rub of my clit before inserting my finger into my wet hole.

  I closed my legs and leaned over to brush his hair out of his eyes and let him sniff my fingers. He groaned and grabbed hold of my wrist, hard.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, sweetheart. I don’t play nice.”

  “Neither do I. Darling,” I said, mimicking his patronising, insolent tone.

  He stood up, and I did too. Without speaking another word I followed him through the crowded bar and out into the car park. He lead me to a parked van which was backed onto the high wall. A perfect hiding spot.

  He shoved me against the stone wall and pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and yanked my skirt up to my waist. He jabbed a finger inside of me and rubbed hard on my clit with his thumb.

  A wave of pure lust so strong came over me I swear I saw stars flashing behind my closed eyes. I opened them and looked down to see him jabbing three fingers in and out of me like a piston.

  “Arghh, God,” I groaned, writhing at the intense, hurting pleasure.

  Then both his hands were on my tits, my pussy left empty and desperate and throbbing. He squeezed and kneaded them, ripping open my delicate silk blouse, the buttons scattering to the wind. My bra was yanked up so my tits hung underneath the wire. He pushed them up and together, bending over to suck and bite on my nipples.

  I was aching to be fucked and I fumbled for his belt, tugging down the zipper of his jeans and freeing his hard cock…

  “Honey? Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Rose jumped guiltily, fingers skidding over the keyboard so cock became cockkkkllll.

  “Yes please,” she called out, her heart beating fast at the interruption.

  Relax, she told herself. It’s not like he knows what you’ve been writing. She didn’t like to admit to herself her heartbeat was also up because she was turned on by Daisy’s adventures.

  “Shall I bring it up?” her husband shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

  “No, no,” she hastily called back, clicking on save. “I’m coming down.”

  She left the tiny spare bedroom and shut the door, praying as she always did that Jim wouldn’t pry through the documents on the computer looking for her novel. She deleted her short stories as soon as they were uploaded but she was always a little anxious when she was half way through one.

  “How’s the novel coming along love?” Jim asked, handing her a cup of tea when she joined him in the kitchen.

  “Just fine,” she lied.

  Well, not exactly a lie, she reasoned, her erotic short stories were coming along just fine. And to her amazement, they were selling really rather well online. It was just a shame that she had a total mental block when it came to writing her ‘real’ novel, a light and fluffy romance.

  She felt another pang of guilt, Jim would go mad if he knew what she was really writing under the pen name B.J. Cummings.

  “So when can I read the masterpiece then?”

  “It’s not ready yet. As soon as it’s polished you can read it, I promise.”

  “You’ve been saying that for ages, I don’t know why you won’t let me read it. You’re such a spoilsport.”

  Not a spoilsport. More of a closet slut, she thought.

  Just then Jim’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to read it.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Mark. Don’t mind if he comes round tonight do you?”

  Rose’s heart instantly started galloping, but she managed to keep her tone neutral.

  “Sure.”

  How could she tell her husband no? That she had been harbouring a crush on his older brother since the day she had started dating Jim back in secondary school fifteen years ago? It had been easier when
Mark had been living in Australia for fourteen of the fifteen years she had known him, but now he was back, stirring up all those old teenage emotions.

  “I think I preferred it when he was in Oz, now I can’t get rid of the prick.” He looked at his watch. “Bloody hell, I’m gonna miss the start of the match.”

  He left her standing there in the kitchen.

  “I might carry on writing for a bit then, maybe have a shower.”

  But her words fell on deaf ears as he had already left the room.

  Back up in the spare bedroom she switched on the computer. Now where was she? She blocked out all thoughts of Jim, and Mark, and the distant hysterical babbling of the football match that drifted up the stairs of the small terrace. The familiar quiver of anticipation quickened her heart as she re-joined Daisy in the car park with her handsome stranger. The handsome stranger that looked so much like Mark…

  “Get on your knees,” he said gruffly, pushing down on my shoulders.

  I did as I was told, scraping my knees and shredding my stockings on the unforgiving ground, taking him into my mouth.

  The musky scent of his cock filled my nostrils and hit the back of my throat. He was big, pretty much the biggest I’d ever had and it was a struggle to get him all down. I managed of course, being no stranger to deep throat and a master in the art of gag reflex control. Even so, I couldn’t breathe with his balls tickling my chin like that and I panicked a little every time he grabbed the back of my neck and give my throat a good hard fucking.

  He groaned from somewhere above me and pulled me off him with a loud, undignified slurping pop. He hauled me to my feet and roughly spun me around so my face and bare tits were pressed up against the stone wall.

  He pushed my thighs further apart, exploring my swollen cunt lips and finger fucking my wet hole. I gasped when he shoved a finger that was slick with my own arousal into my arsehole. Eagerly I pushed against his hand, loving this feeling of utter debasement, the pain both delicious and humiliating, reminding me what a filthy slut I was.

  And then he pushed his big dick all the way into my tight cunt.

  I gasped and panted my pleasure at the sudden penetration, barely able to catch my breath as he pounded my arse. He forced me to lean over until I was practically bent double, my palms bleeding from clutching the stone wall. I watched my tits jump and swing in time with his thrusts, my pussy burning with the hard fucking it was getting.

  My orgasm was close, I could feel it building deep inside.

  “Harder, fuck me harder,” I panted.

  To my surprise, he pulled out. He spun me round so I was facing him. I could feel his hard cock digging into the bare skin of my waist and instinctively I reached down to hold it, wanting him inside me again with everything I had.

  He held me by my neck. For a moment I was convinced he was going to kill me, right there and then in the middle of the car park. His eyes were ice cold, the smile tugging his mouth devoid of humour. Maybe even devoid of humanity. His grip was firm around my windpipe, choking off my air supply just enough to make my head feel too tight and my vision blur.

  Just when I thought he really was going to strangle me, he loosened his grip a little. I gulped down air, my ears ringing so hard I could barely hear him.

  “Orgasm is so much more intense when one is on the brink of death, little one. But you’ll find that out soon enough. Oh, the things I will show you. You really should be more careful who you go picking up in bars…”

  Rose leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms. Time was creeping on, time for a shower.

  In the bathroom she stripped off her clothes and examined herself in the mirror. I’m no Daisy, she thought, staring at her reflection. But I’m not bad for thirty. She liked her long legs, and she knew Jim loved her boobs, even if she didn’t. She thought them too big at 34DD, and not as pert as smaller boobs, or plastic boobs. She cupped them in her hands. They were firm though. Her small, pink nipples puckered between her splayed fingers.

  She thought of Daisy’s body, even though she knew she was being utterly ridiculous comparing herself to her made up heroine. But she still wished she looked like her. Daisy had small pert tits, and she was petite with a curvy butt, unlike Rose who at five foot eight was slender with a small bottom, despite the oversized chest. How she wished she had Daisy’s sleek black hair and alabaster skin too, not her own unruly mop of light brown curls and freckles.

  She sighed. Was any woman totally happy with their appearance, she wondered. Her hand slipped between her legs. How could any man find that attractive, she wondered, studying her vagina in the mirror. She wished her pussy looked more like the perfect snatches of glamour models. She rubbed at her fleshy inner lips, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her groin.

  The thought came unbidden to her mind. Just a quick one, before Mark gets here.

  Mark. What would he think, if he could see her now? She watched her reflection in the mirror, imagining that it was Mark watching her. She watched her forefinger trace lazy circles over her clit, admiring the way her already wet pussy lips gleamed in the overhead bathroom light.

  Get a grip, Rose, she scolded herself. You’re a married woman. Fantasising about your husband’s brother is just about as low as it gets.

  Rose had her shower, pushing all thoughts of Mark from her mind.

  She emerged a few minutes later wrapped in a big white towel. She had her hand on the bedroom door and almost jumped ten feet in the air when Jim spoke to her from the doorway of the spare room.

  “Rose. I can’t believe you would do this.”

  “Jesus Jim, you scared the crap out of me.”

  “How could you?”

  “How could I what?”

  Although she could guess. Jim in the spare room. On the computer.

  Oh shit.

  “I’ve read it, Rose. I can’t believe you could write something like that. You lied to me, you told me you were writing a novel. Instead, I find that, that filth.”

  His face was red and there was spittle on his lips. Rose hadn’t seen him this mad since that time there was a power cut during the world cup.

  “It’s not real for God’s sake. It’s not me, it’s all made up. And you shouldn’t be prying through my writing anyway.”

  “It was half-time, I just wanted a quick read while you were in the shower. And that’s hardly the point now is it? That shit’s got to come from somewhere. Is it some sick, twisted fantasy you have? Or is it what you really get up to if you’re out with the girls? Christ Rose, you make me sick, I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. I’m going out.”

  “Out? Where are you going? Jim please, let me explain.”

  “Good bye Rose. Don’t wait up.”

  She started to follow him down the stairs, calling uselessly after him.

  “Jim! Wait! Please let me...”

  She didn’t get to finish the sentence. The slamming door did it for her.

  “Explain,” she whispered sadly to herself, slumping on the stairs.

  She stayed crouched on the stairs like that for a good five minutes, her head in her hands in despair. The ringing doorbell jolted her out of her reverie. Shit, Mark, she thought. And she wasn’t even dressed. Well, she would just have to open the door as she was, tell him Jim was out and send him on his merry way.

  The sight of him when she opened the door knocked her breathless, as it always did. His pale blue eyes widened as he took in the towel, a lazy smile pulling at his full lips.

  “Hello Rose. Nice to see you dressed for the occasion.”

  “Look, I’m sorry Mark but you can’t come in. Jim’s not here and he won’t be back ‘til late.”

  She went to shut the door but he had wedged it open with his foot.

  “I don’t think so sweetheart. I was invited, so I’m coming in.”

  With those words he pushed past her and into the hallway. Suddenly she was even more aware of her near nakedness and wrapped the towel more tightly around herself
. The hallway seemed very small with him in it.

  “Fine,” she mumbled in defeat, “stick the kettle on then while I throw on some clothes.”

  “Please don’t bother on my account.”

  His tone was light but his gaze was not. He fixed her to the spot with those strange, pale, wolfish eyes. She blushed furiously and managed to tear herself away and up the stairs.

  Five minutes later she returned, dressed in jeans and a simple tight black top. She found him in the kitchen opening the bottle of red he had brought.

  “So what’s my silly little brother done?”

  “How do you know he’s done anything?”

  “Because I watched him strop off down the road just now. He didn’t look happy.”

  “You did?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “Then why didn’t you go after him?”

  “Because I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

  His answer left her a little breathless and her heart started to race. So she got defensive.

  “How’d you know he’s done something wrong? You should be siding with your brother, not me.”

  “I know what a small minded little twerp he can be sometimes. So come on. Spill.”

  “Look, Mark, this is all very sweet of you, but shouldn’t you be chasing after Jim?”

  “No. He just sent me a text saying not to bother coming round. He said he had made other plans.”

  “Did he say what?”

  “No. Come on Rose, talk to me.”

  She sighed, and took a big gulp of red.

  ‘You really want to know?”

  He nodded.

  “Fine, then I’ll tell you. You know that novel I’m supposedly writing? Well, it’s not the only thing I’ve been working on. Jim found one of my other little projects and he hit the roof.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because I’m writing erotica,” I said, slumping in defeat on a chair at the kitchen table.

  “How erotic is erotic?”

  “Very erotic.”

  He smiled at me, the delight in his eyes obvious.