“Oh, no. No. We’re going to take our time, little one. I will fuck you. But first I want to look at you, examine you, make sure you’re wet and ready for me.” His fingers stopped their delightful tugging. He gently took the wine glass from her hands, offered her the tiny sip that remained, and set the glass back on the table. He tucked her fingers into the lush curls of the long hair that was fanning the bolster, patting them gently to let her know that he meant for her to leave them there.
He shifted her so he could remove her slacks and her panties, then he positioned her lower half on his lap with her head still resting on the arm of the sofa. His hands caressed her long legs, starting with her feet, rubbing her trim ankles, gripping her muscular calves and stroking feather light touches along her inner thighs, forcing her by minute increments to spread her legs for him. All the while he looked at her, the unbelievable treasure that was displayed in his lap, unfolding and opening for him. Trembling and getting wet for him.
“Spread your thighs wider baby,” he whispered, “I want you to show me your pretty pussy and your sweet, glistening cunt. Show me everything baby, and I mean everything. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you with your thighs wide, displaying yourself for me.”
She moaned and whimpered as if she was reluctant to do his bidding, yet hesitating only slightly, she began to move her legs further apart. Her thighs slowly opened as she timidly spread them for him. He wanted more. He gripped her feet, pressed them together and pushed them up until her knees faced out, creating a diamond shape of her long, shapely legs, her trim bush the focal point at the top. She gasped at the sudden exposure of her womanhood and he watched as her secret creases unfolded to the cool air and moisture coated them.
Her satiny white skin was a stark contrast to his dark green dress pants. With her arms tucked under her head, her full breasts jutting up and out and her dark silky triangle arrowing down, pointing to her gaping cunt, it was a picture as erotic as anything he’d ever seen. If he tilted his head down he could see her pink slit gaping above his lap, in line with his zipper, barely a foot below his eyes. Using his hips, he shifted her slightly so he could look down and see into her opening. His eyes feasted on the sight, taking in the wondrous present she was giving him, an unencumbered view of the entrance to her pearly pink vagina. Dress pants were always uncomfortable, with an engorged cock burgeoning and straining to be free, they were unbearably unyielding.
“Lovely, you are incredibly lovely,” he whispered reverently, awed by her beauty. She was creaming like nobody’s business. His cock jumped in response to the blatant proof of her desire. He was insane with wanting her, had to fight himself to keep from taking her.
“Clint,” she moaned, and he felt her flex, stretching her inner thighs and arching her hips to show him even more. Her keen sense of her wifely duty, to bare herself completely for her husband, as ‘he’ had just asked, awed him even more. She was a trained submissive just as Clint had said, and he’d had his doubts as to whether she could get into the scenario and be the dutiful wife for him, but he doubted no more. She was amazing in her sensuality, very open about her needs, and not at all shy with her body.
Despite being blindfolded and allowing herself to be displayed in such a vulgar manner, she was getting wet, very wet. He could clearly see that. Smell it—her musk permeated the air around them, he inhaled it deeply and let the heady essence of her fill his head. He didn’t have doubts anymore, no siree. He looked up at her face and neck, saw her skin flush red, the deep crimson color seeping through her skin and warming her chest, throat, and face. She knew where he was looking, had to feel the heat of his gaze as he examined her so intimately. Was she ashamed, humiliated, overcome with desire? Where was she in her head right now? At this point most women were so deep into their fantasy life it would be a mistake to speak and let reality flood back in.
Clint had told him of her one really wicked perversion and how it fed on her at times. How it made her so needy she would either close herself off completely or climb the walls. Left too long in her mind, she was often overcome with a desire to be humiliated, one of the worst submissive perversions to have, and one of the most dangerous. Also one of the hardest to satisfy and gauge, the easiest to misread, and often over compensate for—a psychological time bomb if done wrong. He had no idea if he should continue, back off or bring her into it. Her breathing was labored but not stressed—he decided to participate, but let her work for what she wanted, what she needed.
He had both hands free and he used them to his advantage. The fingers of one hand tentatively insinuated themselves into her slick, puffy folds while the fingers of his other hand spread her labial lips wide. She flinched and gave a little gasp of distress. “Show me your vagina, Callie. Show me your sweet little honey hole, baby. I want to see that smooth velvet sheath that’s tucked up inside you. Then I want to put my dick inside it and fuck it.”
She whimpered and arched her hips, opening herself even wider to his heated gaze. He smiled. Just as Clint had said, she had a deep-seated desire to have her cunt admired. Clint had told of sessions where he had positioned her and then finished a full bottle of whiskey while studying her and watching her soak the sheets while her hooded clit grew and grew until he finally had to take her.
“That’s it sweetheart, you’re so beautiful here, so lovely. I can’t help but give my fingers free rein.” And he did. He diddled her with long, experienced fingers, like a maestro on keyboard he played her and sent tongues of fire to every cell, every fiber of her being. Always stopping just short of letting her have what she wanted, what she needed.
For many minutes he played with her labial lips, gently pulling at them, tugging them away from her body, clamping them closed and holding them together just to tease her as he listened to her whimpers and groans, gauging her reaction to everything he did to her. He stroked her slit from top to bottom keeping her juices flowing and bringing the excess up to coat her clit over and over again. He inserted his longest finger into her, leaving it there and not moving a muscle until she could catch her breath, before sliding it out and then reinserting it. Another finger joined the first and she lifted off his lap to deepen the thrust. He smiled to himself as he watched her hike her hips even higher trying to get him to touch her clit. Never taking his eyes off her, he shoved three fingers in, cupped her until his palm held tight to her mound, pressed his thumb down on her clit, and reached up to pinch her nipple—hard. The resulting scream, spasm, and set of rhythmic contractions that squeezed his fingers unbelievably firmly was his undoing as well as hers.
He cried out as his cock responded to the undulating crack of her ass gripping him as she came. He had steeled himself to watch her come, even to feel her quiver and soak his fingers, but he was not prepared for her sphincter muscles to gyrate, pulse, and grip his erection while she was in the throes of deep passion. It was too late to stop what she had set in motion. His jaw firmed, his nostrils flared, and his eyes squeezed shut as he threw his head back and hissed her name through his teeth, “Callie . . . Jesus, Callie.”
His ejaculate joined the wet spot she had made in his lap, his seed coming from underneath while her wetness dampened it from above, soaking him to the core. He shuddered from the decompression, from his muscles going from steeled tendons to the lax state only sleep or death surpassed.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was still throbbing and clenching his impaled fingers, although now the rhythmic pulsing was tapering off to small shudders. It was a sight to behold. She moaned as he slowly withdrew his hand. He grabbed her outer thighs and drew her legs together, then shifted her so she was sitting up. He brought her hands down to rest in her lap. He reached up and removed her blindfold. When her eyes fluttered open he saw the most languorous, lambent eyes he’d ever beheld. Together with her rosy cheeks and smiling lips he realized that he was staring down at the most stunningly beautiful
woman he’d ever seen, a raven-haired beauty that was one amazing, sexy vixen. No wonder Clint had fallen in love with her so quickly and rushed to secure her to him within only days of meeting her. Had she been free to marry at that exact moment he didn’t doubt that he’d be dragging her to a priest right this very minute himself.
The heat of passion now past, she became self-conscious and grabbed for her sweater on the floor. He helped her to cover herself as he smiled down at her. When passion waned, modesty took over again. Shame and humiliation were as old as time.
“I knew you weren’t Clint,” she said after a few moments.
“And yet you allowed me to continue . . .” he said, lifting a finely arched brow, looking smug as he silently perused her long, slender legs.
“Once you touched my nipples, I couldn’t have stopped you. Once you touched me,” she nodded in the direction of her womanhood, now shielded under the cashmere sweater, “I didn’t want to.”
“How did you know I wasn’t Clint?”
“You never kissed me.”
“Clint asked me not to.”
“He invited you to touch my breasts, caress my pussy, examine my cunt, insert your fingers inside me, but you are not allowed to kiss me?”
“I was also instructed to fuck you, perform cunnilingus on you, bugger you, and do a myriad of other things he suggested. And I didn’t say I wasn’t allowed. Just that he asked me not to.”
“What if I want you to?” The vixen was back.
“Then you’d better clear it with him first because he trusts me with his wife.”
She laughed and it was a delightful sound. “Do you know how absurd this is,” she asked, waving her hand over her semi-clad body.
“I just know he wants you happy. And I know that I can make you happy. And now I see why that’s so important to him.”
“What did he think, that I’m a loose cannon, ready to walk the streets, hit the bars in search of a hard cock?”
“You said it, not me, but I think Clint prefers the devil you know to any Tom, Dick, or Harry.”
“Does he really think I would be unfaithful
to him?”
“Hey, don’t look now . . .” he said with a wave of his own hand.
“I wouldn’t have done this except, well except . . . except Clint sanctioned it, and you held me . . . and I was very attracted to you. And then you blindfolded me so I could pretend you were him so I wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt. That was very sweet.”
“But you knew differently.”
“Still, you cared that I might feel guilty.”
“Clint cared, the blindfold was his idea. I’ve never carried a handkerchief in my life before today.”
Her eyes widened and he watched as they filled with tears and then overflowed.
He’d thought of everything, she thought. Her husband had thought of everything to make this work for them. She felt so loved. She shivered and felt tears welling again.
“Hey, he knows you better than anyone, so he coached me, he wants this for you. And you know what?” he said as he lifted a soft chenille sofa throw.
“What?” she asked through her sniffles.
“I want this for me now, too.”
He reached for the edge of her sweater that was now bunched around her breasts and slowly drew it off her, tossing it to the floor. He stood with her in his arms, covering her loosely with the throw. “I think I need to fuck you now, very badly. Extremely very badly.” Effortlessly he carried her down the long hallway and into the master bedroom.
“This is his bed,” she said softly as they crossed the threshold.
He hefted her in his arms, “And this is his wife. If he’ll share one, I believe he’ll share the other.”
She looked up at him and met his eyes. “Kiss me first.”
“No can do, sweetheart. I have my limits. I gave my word.”
She pouted.
“Although I could kiss your other lips. As many times and as thoroughly as you’d like.”
She smiled back at him and her twinkling eyes sparkled with mischief. God she was so beautiful. How was he ever going to give her back?
Holy Moly! Garrett blinked his eyes wide as he stared at the bright computer screen. It was the only thing lit in the room. While he’d been reading the sun had gone down and night had cloaked the beach, the inlet, and the waters beyond. A scattering of light from the moon bounced beams of silver on the lapping waves.
He scrolled down until he could see the next chapter heading after the page break. But he doubted he could go on without some relief. He looked down at his lap—at the bulge tenting the fabric of his boxers. He’d had to remove his jeans somewhere around page nine. He could see that the pre-cum from the tip had made a near perfect circle the size of a silver dollar near the top of the opening. This big boy wanted out, he wanted to play.
He stood and removed his boxers, careful to stretch them over his unbelievably hard erection. If there had ever been a day to star in a porn flick with pride, this would definitely have been it.
Leaving the computer to segue into sleep mode, he stalked across the dining room marveling at the lively bounce that lifted his t-shirt. Walking down the hall, he pulled that off, too.
He didn’t wait for the water to heat. He stepped into the over-sized shower and palmed himself, gliding his fingers up and down with a practiced hand before brutally tugging himself to a violent, shuddering climax. He rinsed and toweled himself off and went back for Chapter Three.
Chapter III
He tossed her onto the center of the bed, stripped the throw from her and let it drop to the floor so he could look at her as he began to remove his clothes. Looking down at her he felt his chest ache at the sight of her, creamy white skin against the red duvet. She was lovely, her lips curved into a smile, the apples of her cheeks rosy and her eyes delightfully seductive. Her brunette curls fanned around her head while her shapely arms spread themselves on either side of her head, lifting her breasts high into luscious globes with rosy ruched tips. He untied his tie and threw it on a chair. His shirt was next, thrown with impatience toward the same chair. He toed off his shoes and removed his socks, undid his belt and unbuttoned his fly. The zipper slid down a few inches and he let his pants hang on his hips. She wasn’t ready for the unveiling—not yet. He was not scaring this woman off, no siree.
Her smooth stomach with its tiny navel was flat with meager shallows delineating her hips, which flared before coming back to emphasize the dark juncture between her thighs. She was perfection, and right now her teasing smile had all the confidence of a woman who knew her allure. She looked up at him invitingly and he watched, bewitched as she slowly slid her hands toward the headboard and spread her thighs wide. That’s when he noticed the straps hanging on the curved bamboo posts, both aft and fore. Clint, you old boy scout, leave it to you to be prepared!
Could she really want what she was hinting at? Was she asking to be tied up? She certainly was asking for something the way her hips were twitching and her legs were sliding against each other. Only one way to find out.
He took one wrist, brought it to his lips and kissed the soft inside. Then he wrapped the velvet cuff around it and pulled the strap taut. He walked to the other side of the bed and did the same. Her head turned and her eyes followed him around the room as he kept his eyes on her face, watching her for signs of distress. There were none. Her breathing had sped up, but she was smiling coyly—she was getting into this. He whipped his belt off and backhanded it toward the chair. It snapped coming out of the loops and again when it hit the chair to fall in a coil on the seat. He was impatient to touch her, to kiss her smooth, warm skin and to have it brush against his.
Lovely, dark chocolate eyes that were giving all the signs of her goin
g under as soon as he’d tied her other hand to the post, beckoned him closer. He saw her thick lashes flutter against her cheeks, and had he not known better he would have thought her drugged and ready to fall asleep. His cock jumped, he couldn’t wait to let it have its way. But he was a long way from granting that.
He ran his hand from her hip to her ankle. Her head moved slowly back and forth and her legs shifted against the down comforter as she fought him when he tried to take one ankle to the corner of the bed. It wasn’t a valiant effort and he had to chuckle, “Surely you can fight better than that if this isn’t what you want?”
His eyes met her glazed ones and he knew that this was exactly what she wanted. “Tell me this is what you want, tell me you want to be tied up,” his voice was husky as he gripped her ankle and pulled it far away from the other, “or I won’t do it,” he added wickedly. He knew she wanted this, and that she wanted it probably more than she wanted to breathe.
“I want you to tie me up,” she whispered.
“And?”
“And . . . and then I want you to touch me.”
“Touch you how?” his voice had gone hoarse.
“I believe you promised kisses.”
“I believe you’re right.” He brought her foot up and kissed her instep before securing it in the strap he found tucked under the bed skirt. It was plush velour, the finest in S & M restraints. Clint hadn’t scrimped; his wife’s pleasure was a serious luxury. He kept some slack in the restraints so he would have the freedom to move her legs as he wished them. Walking around to the other side, he removed his T-shirt, jerking it off and letting it drop to the floor by the bed.
She blinked as she took in his bronzed, muscular chest. She knew what it took to be an active soldier, knew how proud they were of their fighting skills and their bodies, but Rand’s chest, arms and torso were nothing short of impressive. No wonder he was able to lift her as if she were filled with helium. His muscles rippled as he moved his hand down to his trousers and unzipped them all the way, revealing a sizeable bulge. His pecs flexed as his thumbs, at his waist, pulled his pants down then hooked under the waistband of his desert-sand colored underwear. He pulled the elastic waistband around his protruding member before bending and removing his pants and underwear together. His thick, long, erection jumped and as he walked to the head of the bed it grazed his flat belly and flexed with each bounce.
Flash Drive Page 4
