by Noelle Mack
“How about a treat for me?”
“What would that be?”
He looked back into the suite and pointed to her stiletto heels, lying where she’d left them. “Those. Put them on. Fucking a woman in high heels and nothing else is great. From behind.”
“Can I trust you?” She smiled.
“Yeah.” He ran his hands over her bare legs and planted a kiss on her springy, clean pubic curls. “You know you can. I was a good boy, wasn’t I?
She sashayed back into the suite and bent over to pick up the shoes she’d taken off several hours ago. And her black velvet dress. If she went home with wrinkled clothes to pick up her dog, Sofia would never shut up. And Ruth wasn’t going to share one word of her awesome night of lust with her inquisitive cousin.
With the shoes in her hand, she managed to hang up the dress in the hall closet, glancing at Nick when she shut the door. “What are you grinning at?”
“You look so domestic. Picking up your clothes, hanging them up. You’ll be getting out the ironing board next.”
Ruth snorted. “That’ll be the day. I just don’t want to go home looking like a total slut on the subway.”
“Not gonna happen.”
She cocked her head and put her hands on her hips, shoes and all. “What are you going to do about it? Send me home to the Bronx on a parade float?”
He got up, his erection down to a semi but still an impressive sight. “Good idea. Hadn’t thought of that. Ten tons of crepe paper ruffles and you in a giant clamshell, all pink and pearly, waving to the guidos.”
She held up the stilettos. “And wearing these.”
“Yeah,” he said enthusiastically. “Put them on.”
Ruth slid her feet into them, teetered, and then squatted down to get the thin straps over the back of her heels. Her breasts squeezed over her knees and Rick squatted down right in front of her, sucking a nipple and trying to keep her steady at the same time. They both went over, laughing. He got up first and pulled her up, yanking her to him for a long, luxurious kiss. “We never did try out the vibrating option, Ruthie. C’mon…be my fantasy again. I can’t believe how hot you get me.”
She clasped him and stroked him to full hardness, whispering against his lips, “Then let’s do it.” She led the way back into the bathroom, leading him by his cock just for fun. The steam had cleared out and Ruth could see her face in the mirror again. She picked up a natural bristle hairbrush, another gift from the management, and began brushing her hair.
Nicky investigated the control panel, switching on the vibration at a low setting. “All systems go. Have a seat. Ladies ride free.” He spread a fresh towel for her and slipped off the bathrobe.
Ruth straddled the couch again but she sat up this time. He picked up the hairbrush she’d set down and sat behind her, running it through her hair with the same long, even strokes he’d used to rub her back. Bliss.
The very slight vibration between her spread legs was sensual but nowhere near as good as having a big, strong guy brush her hair. Nicky stopped for a minute, running his fingers through the glossy strands. “Like silk,” he murmured. “And it smells so good.” He buried his nose in it, then reached around to caress her breasts.
“I thought you just wanted to fuck me from behind.”
She could feel him smile into her hair. “I do. But all this girl stuff—long hair and soft tits—has to be appreciated first.” He scooted closer to her on the chaise, letting his erection rest in the cleft between her buttocks. “Do you like the vibration? Do you use one to get off?”
“Sometimes I used to,” she admitted, bowing her head when he lifted the heavy hair off her neck and kissed her nape. He held her in a loose embrace, fondling her breasts and tugging at her long nipples, playing with the ring on one that he liked so much. Without her seeing him, the power of his very masculine body, so much larger than her own, seemed mysteriously strong. The deep voice vibrating in her ear made the vibration between her legs stronger still.
Ruth shifted, not wanting to have an almost accidental orgasm. He wanted a hot bitch in high heels, bent over and spread, begging for cock, he was going to get one.
The intensity of their desire for each other seemed almost surreal. The luxuriousness of the hotel suite, the feeling of being apart from the ordinary world, alone in the night with each other, only added to the strangely sensual feeling that enveloped her.
“I don’t want to come yet,” she whispered to him. “Don’t think about satisfying me. You already did that. When you washed me—and massaged me—it made me want you all over again but I can wait. Now you come first.”
She moved her leg over the side of the chaise and swung around to face him partway. Nicky cradled her in his arms. “I think I understand what you mean. Either way. If that’s your pleasure, then it’s mine.” He kissed her long and deep, and Ruth felt herself go limp. Her thighs fell open and he put two thick fingers at the opening of her pussy, still holding her securely in his other arm. The clean flesh didn’t have much lube and he had to push a little. He stopped about a half inch in. She braced her stiletto heels against the floor and lifted up, spreading her thighs even wider and making a submissive display of her labia.
“Good girl,” Nick murmured. “Show yourself. Show me.” Her sweet juice began to flow at the sound of his voice and he pushed his fingers into her all the way. “You like to be fucked, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “By you. Only you.” She felt the slight but constant vibration of the chaise right through his body and wondered if he’d forgotten it was on.
He nodded, bending his head to kiss the hair he had brushed so gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. Tell me your fantasy.”
“That you’re spanking me,” she whispered. “I need it and I want it and I asked for it.”
“Okay.” He kept on fingerfucking her.
“But lightly.”
She felt him smile against her hair.
“Got it.” He withdrew his fingers and reached for a rolled towel, which he placed by the side of the chaise. “Turn over. And kneel down. Lie over the chaise crossways. Don’t touch yourself. This is going to be very gentle discipline but you have to obey.”
She did, kneeling on the rolled towel and crossing her legs at the ankles.
“Good girl. Now put your head in my lap.” He stretched out his leg and guided her head down onto his thigh so all she could see was his cock and balls. “Look but don’t touch. You asked for a light spanking and I want you to see just how hot it makes me to do that to you. My hand or the hairbrush?”
“Your hand,” she whispered. When they were skin to skin, the feeling was awesome, like nothing she had ever experienced.
He lifted her hair off her neck and draped it over his thigh. Then he picked up the hairbrush and ran it through her hair a few more times. The contact was even more sensual than before, perhaps because she was now more open to him, choosing to play a role that let him be dominant.
He set the brush aside and stroked her buttocks softly. Ruth trembled. She had never asked a boyfriend to spank her, had never trusted anyone that much, had never wanted anyone else to do it. But she had fantasized about it.
And then along came Nick, alpha male. And she was doing it for real. Or rather, he was doing it to her. Bliss.
He stroked her back several times and then paused. She looked at his stiff cock and his balls, drawn up tight to the base of the shaft, and closed her eyes, holding that image in her mind as she pressed her face into his muscular thigh. His hand came down on her buttocks with a slap that left a refreshing, very slight sting. He did it again. And again. Ruth was in heaven. She held very still. It was everything she had read about and more. His intent focus on her. The sensation itself. Knowing that he was looking at her glowing ass cheeks and getting excited by what she’d permitted him to do, asked him to do.
“That’s three,” he said. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then get up. Straddle the chair. Back to me.”
Dreamy-eyed and so stimulated the inside of her thighs were wet, she sat back on her haunches and looked at him. His jaw was set and his green eyes were on fire with hot, male lust.
“Be good. Do what I say.”
He helped her get up, wobbling a little on the high heels she’d forgotten she was still wearing. The vulnerability of her stance or the shoes themselves seemed to provoke something in him, desire from a darker place.
He drew in a deep breath and controlled himself, caressing the sides of her hips and letting his hands run over her shapely thighs and calves, bare and warm. Then he took another rolled towel, a smaller one made of soft velour, and placed it exactly in the middle of the one that was spread over the chaise. “Sit on that.”
She did, back to him, holding herself up with outstretched arms, clinging to the end of the chaise with both hands.
“I’m going to turn up the vibration. I want you to press your pussy into the towel and ride. Then I’ll spank you some more.” His voice was rough and shaky. Ruth sighed, giving herself a few preliminary rubs against the rolled velour almost absent-mindedly when the vibration increased in intensity.
His hand came down swiftly on her buttocks, shocking her into an “Oh!” of surprise. She rocked and pressed, wanting more—and Nick gave it to her. Without warning, a powerful orgasm coursed through her. She moaned, rubbing on the soft towel rolled between her legs until he grabbed her by the waist and made her bend down, clutching the far side of the chaise now and not the end, with her ass in the air and her high heels braced. He positioned his cock—she could feel the latex around it, he must have managed to put on a condom while she was having her pleasure ride—and rammed it home. He didn’t give a damn about anything else but fucking her as fast as he could, holding her as tight as he could, and pulling her soft behind into his taut groin as hard as he could.
“Nick! Oh! Oh, oh, oh!”
Ruth knew she was on the verge of coming again and reached between her legs, rubbing her stimulated throbbing clit until the sensual, deep pulsing began. Her pussy clenched around him, forcing him to come too, in turbocharged shots she could feel as they pulsed out, into the condom tip. He cried out, thrust a few more times, then pulled back, one hand on her back and one hand on the thin rim of the condom.
Ruth straightened and turned around. Nick was breathing hard, eyelids closed, a fierce sweat trickling down his temples. He took one last shuddering breath and opened his eyes halfway to look at her. “Oh, Ruthie. Great shoes. And anytime you want to do that…just let me know.”
Which she did. A few hours later. He was gentler this time, not quite as crazy with lust. And when she rolled on her back, cooling her tingling ass on the smooth sheets, he’d only wanted to be on top of her. Face to face. Heart to heart. Kissing her closed eyes when she slipped over the edge into a last orgasm that made her tremble all over. And holding her close afterward for a long, long time.
3
They made it into the lobby just before six a.m., dodging the maids and the rest of the sleepy-looking staff. Then Ruth spotted Eduardo and pulled Nick behind a giant urn filled with fresh lilacs and roses.
“I don’t want your poker buddy to see me, Nick,” she whispered. “Do something. Distract him.”
Nick shushed her and waited for his opportunity. When Eduardo turned to advise a maid who was cleaning the twenty-foot drapes with a long suction rod, they made a dash for the revolving door, alarming the brass-buttoned doorman. But at least he didn’t recognize them. Nick got her around the corner, laughing breathlessly, and flagged a cab heading crosstown.
They scrambled into the back seat. Nick leaned into the open partition and spoke to the driver. “Take the FDR Drive to the Triboro Bridge and let us off at—” He specified an address that Ruth didn’t recognize but it sounded like it was in Queens. The driver nodded and accelerated with a jerk that threw them both against the back seat.
Ruth sat forward and closed the scratched plexiglass panel. “Why are we going to Queens?”
“Because I left my car at a precinct there. Cooperative investigation, ongoing. I’m going to take you home. Gotta get to work, though.” He planted a big smooch on her, half on her cheek and half on her mouth. “You get to sleep, you lucky heiress, you.”
Ruth yawned. “I’m not exactly Paris Hilton. No bedroom video, no Guess contract, no millions. Just enough to live on, thanks to my good-for-nothing dad.”
“Right. I remember.”
She patted his stubbled cheek. “But you weren’t really listening, lover. At least we’re getting the wild sex out of the way. Maybe we can have an intelligent conversation one of these days.”
Nick threw his thigh over hers. “God, I hope so. But I want more of that wild sex. We don’t have to stop doing that.”
Ruth peered out the window, looking at the sunrise over the East River. The cityscape rose in dark blocks, but the pastel light of dawn made it seem almost lovely. She hummed under her breath.
“You sound happy. What’s that song?”
She stopped humming and thought. “Getting to know you.”
“Looking forward to that.”
“Me too.” She looked in her bag for a comb and lipstick, hoping to make herself look halfway presentable before they arrived at the Queens police station. Or for that matter, before she had to face the Agnellis.
Ruth had no doubt that Mrs. Agnelli had noticed Nicky Del Bianco come and go. The old lady had a mind like flypaper. The second she saw Ruth get out of Nicky’s car and knew she’d spent the night out, the gossip would start. With a speed that beat the fastest Internet connection modems down.
Oh, well, Ruth thought philosophically. At least the bingo players in the dismal basement of the parish house would have something to talk about besides their last trip to Atlantic City.
“So are you going to introduce me to your colleagues?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“And you’re going to suggest that I work undercover, right?”
His expression got serious but he had to know that she was joking. “Of course not. It takes more than sunglasses and a distracting get-up to fool the smart crooks. And the stupid ones can’t shoot straight. Either way you wouldn’t want to be in the line of fire.”
Ruth sighed and crossed her legs at the ankle, wiggling her toes inside the uncomfortable stilettos.
“I’m going to have those shoes framed.” He captured her chin for a long, tender, lascivious kiss.
The next thing Ruth knew, the driver was waving his EZ pass, which was supposed to be attached to his visor but wasn’t, at the Triboro Bridge tollbooth sensor. They bumped over to the right lanes, heading for Queens. The morning rush was already starting on the inbound side to Manhattan, commuting zombies staring straight ahead.
“God, I don’t envy those people. But I’ll have to go back to work eventually. Poetry is not going to pay my rent.’ Ruth realized that she had let numerous projects languish since the day Nick had come into her life. She just didn’t feel like doing something as tedious as writing. “Maybe I’ll join the force,” she said playfully. “Whaddya think, Nick? Should I be a cop?”
He shook his head. “Never works. One per family.”
His mention of taking her to meet his pasta-preparing mother flashed across her mind. “We’re not a family,” she said carefully. “We’re not even officially connected. We’re seeing each other. That’s all.”
He gave her a long look. “But I want more than that, babe. A lot more.”
Three months later…
The stickiness of a New York summer was setting in too soon. Ruth pushed her long hair out of her face and tried to concentrate on the words swimming on the screen.
Creativity was the pits. The screenwriting class she’d signed up for at NYU was interesting, but she didn’t know how to get all the characters she had in mind into one room, let alone talking to each other. Whoever came up with that old a
dage—write what you know—didn’t spend hours every day with a yarping mutt for company. With Nick embroiled in some huge, hairy investigation he wouldn’t talk about, it was her and Tuff against the world again.
If he wanted more from here, he hadn’t said what. Yeah, he called often, even sent flowers, but he hadn’t been able to get away for a night for weeks. Mrs. Agnelli had even given up dusting the figurines on her windowsill and watching for his car.
Ruth turned to look down at Tuff, who banged his tail on the floor.
“Say something. Anything.”
Tuff yarped.
“I can’t put that in. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” A word he always understood.
She grabbed his coiled leash, attached it to his collar and unlocked the front door. A blast of muggy air wilted her but she marched bravely out. Tuff didn’t mind the heat so long as a trip to the World’s Most Fascinating Hedge was planned. A little white female poodle had moved onto that street and she peed on the Hedge too. Tuff stopped in his tracks whenever he happened upon her scent, refusing to budge.
Ruth decided to go the other way, around the opposite corner. A few blocks of tug-of-war with Tuff would be good exercise, although she couldn’t exactly call it walking.
A huge trailer truck blocked half the street ahead, and a milling crowd was gathered around it. She spotted the head-mikes on the assistants before she got there and heard the usually insufferably self-important instructions to the onlookers as she walked up. A film crew.
Tuff strained at his leash, eager to make new friend and maybe score a sandwich from the catering table set up outside the trailer. Neighborhood types were goggling at the star on the door of another trailer, whispering about who might be inside. Ruth bumped into a young guy with a multipocketed vest and a clipboard who seemed to be more or less in charge of guarding the perimeter.
