Even my choice of career was a source of amusement for him. When I announced what I intended to do, the jokes about massages with happy endings were relentless. No matter how many times I explained that massage was a small part of my job, he still didn’t let up.
Without waiting for him to say anything else, I slammed the car door and strode away. Why did I still allow him to get to me the way he did? When we were in the same space, it was as if we were still kids, stuck in an endless cycle of teasing, taunting, and tit for tat. And why—why—did bickering with him leave my panties sopping and my nipples throbbing? Sometimes, my body’s reaction to him infuriated me more than he did. I shook my head and keyed in the code for my apartment building.
Once inside my bijou—more like mouse-sized—apartment, I slid on my fleecy PJs and jumped into bed with my laptop. I logged onto my eLove profile to see if I’d had any hits. There were two. One from someone called Silas seemed promising. While I didn’t love the name, his interests were similar enough to mine—reading, cycling, hiking, and everything chocolate-related. I wondered what he looked like. One of the things most enticing things about eLove was the faceless messaging. The idea was to get to know the person internally before judging them externally. Ending up with an overweight slob with bad dental hygiene worried me, but I was willing to take the chance.
Dylan was totally wrong. I wasn’t using eLove to snag myself a rich husband (although I wouldn’t say no to one). I was using it because I was sick of losers. The site’s algorithms promised to find me a perfect match, something I was clearly unable to do for myself. My judgment in men was somewhat dicey. I always went for the same brooding type with hazel eyes and dark hair—much like Dylan.
The meaner men were to me, the more I craved their attention. Bad boys did all manner of thrilling things to my insides. I liked how they didn’t take any crap. I liked how they made my blood boil, how our arguments would end up with down-and-dirty, disgusting, anything goes sex.
The anticipation of hooking up with someone who fucked me with unrestrained power was addicting. But that was the old me. The new me was all about finding a nice, professional man who didn’t challenge me to the point of throwing dishes. Someone who wouldn’t dump me after I’d fallen helplessly in love. Silas seemed exactly the kind of man I needed. His profile showed he was online, so I sent him a message.
Hi, thanks for messaging me. I checked out your profile, and I think we have a lot in common.
I hit send and drummed my fingers against the comforter, waiting for a reply that would begin my new life.
Chapter Two
“No engagement ring yet?” Dylan nodded toward my ring finger. “I thought by now you’d have some sucker halfway down the aisle.”
I glared at him over an incinerated turkey in the middle of the dining room table and picked up my second glass of wine.
“How’s Swift Sex going? Any STIs we should know about?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I can’t complain.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Mom tore into the dining room. “Eddie’s working late, and Mrs. Johnson just called. She’s fallen again. You two will have to have dinner on your own tonight.” She shrugged on her coat and grabbed her bag. “For God’s sake don’t kill each other.”
“I think we’ll be okay.” I eyed the carving knife and smiled sweetly in Dylan’s direction. “Do you want me to come with you, Mom?”
“No, honey, I’m fine. She’s a silly old coot who thinks she’s still in her twenties. I wish she’d go to a retirement village, but none will take her fifteen cats.”
Visions of me, fifty years from now, surrounded by cats and smelling like pee flashed through my brain. I shuddered and shook the image away. I needed to find someone fast.
“When you two kids finish eating, lock up.”
Once Mom had left, I stood from the table and picked up the turkey. “You want any of this?”
Dylan quirked an eyebrow as if to ask was I serious. I shrugged, took the platter to the kitchen, sawed off the meat and threw it into the garbage disposal. At least when Mom came home, she would think we ate something.
Dylan sauntered into the kitchen and leaned against the countertop with one ankle crossed over the other. A bottle of Bud hung from between his fingers. “Tell me about eLove.”
I continued hacking the turkey. “Nothing to tell.” I wouldn’t admit eLove was an epic disaster. Last night’s date was enough to make me give up. Jared, who was actually called John, was thirty years old and lived in his mother’s basement. As for his teeth, a few whitening strips wouldn’t have done any harm, neither would a toothbrush. After our date, he asked for a blowjob in the alleyway.
David was too short. Michael too whiny. Simon had just lost his wife and wanted a replacement ASAP. As for Silas, Silas was everything his profile promised. He was hot and funny and we had tons in common. Jackpot, I thought. By the time the dinner check arrived, I had already planned our wedding, named our two kids and dog. The walk home couldn’t have been more romantic. Cherry blossoms drifted down like snow, and Silas picked the pink petals from my hair. He complimented everything from my smile to my shoes. When he said aquamarine would complement my eyes, police sirens should have blared in my mind.
Outside my apartment building, I waited for him to kiss me. I’d decided if he was a good kisser, I’d invite him in. The kiss didn’t come. The words I’m gay did. He needed a front for his family and thought I would be the perfect candidate. He also wanted kids. He said a woman with hips like mine could provide him with a horde of children. After I declined his offer and said goodnight, I went inside and cried.
“I’m not sure if it’s the right dating site for me. The men are… interesting.”
“A site promising to find you a husband and a father for your children sounds like a scam.”
“And a site that promises anonymous hook-ups with people who give fake names is morally sound?”
He reached over and grabbed my wrist. A spark jumped from his skin to mine. “You should give it a try. It might help with your irritation and frustration.”
I wrenched my hand away. “I’m not in the mood for an argument, Dyl.” I glanced up from the turkey carcass and saw what I thought was a carnal flash in his hazel eyes. My nipples tightened, aching to feel the warmth of his mouth. Dragging my eyes from his, I threw the carving knife into the sink and washed my hands. “I’m not irritated, and I’m not frustrated. Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”
“When was the last time you had sex?” He took a swig of beer, his lips pursing around the opening. It took all of my willpower not to moan. I wouldn’t allow my secret desires about him to escape the box I kept them in.
“Are you fucking serious? Did you just ask me when I last had sex?” The last time I had sex with an actual man and not a toy was maybe six months ago, maybe longer. I’d stopped counting. “This conversation is over. No need to give me a ride; I’ll call a cab.”
I made a move to leave, but Dylan stood in front of me, blocking my escape, and my body collided with his. “I’ll take you home, Lib. Stop the drama. Don’t you think it’s time for you to grow up?”
“Me? Me! Jesus, I can’t believe your fucking nerve. Grow up yourself, Dickwad.” I strode around him, grabbed my bag and phone and ordered a car. No other man in the world riled or turned me on the way Dylan did.
****
By the time I made it home, my anger hadn’t abated. I threw my bag onto the sofa and toed my shoes off, kicking them across the room. Who did he think he was? I wasn’t the one hooking up with strangers. I wasn’t the one whoring around. No way was I going to our parents’ house for Sunday dinner again, at least not when Dylan was there. My mom and Eddie would have to understand. I was done. He’d tormented me long enough.
My laptop pinged with a message from eLove. And I was done trying to find a man online. But before I deleted my profile, I clicked on a message from someone called Alph
aDog.
I think we could have some fun.
I rolled my eyes at his lame message and laughable username. He was probably an egotistical ass like the rest.
Unless you have a nine-inch dick, look like Channing Tatum, aren’t afraid to get down and dirty, can stand up to me when I’m being a bitch, and are serious about commitment, then you can fuck the hell off .
If that didn’t put him off, nothing would.
A return message pinged.
Big enough for you? A picture of a cock popped up on my screen. It was more than nine inches. Holy shit. I grabbed my laptop and plunked my butt on the sofa.
What did I say to something like that? It was huge. I licked my lips, imagining having something like that in my mouth, in me. Let me see your face. If you look like Channing, we will have lots of fun.
Let me see your tits.
Excitement flared in my mind, and arousal dampened my thong. Why did I love dirty talk so much? Dylan was right. I didn’t need a normal guy. I needed someone who heated my blood. Someone who made me want to do very, very bad things.
Would I dare do what this stranger asked? It wasn’t like he knew me or knew where I lived. Screw it. I would delete my eLove profile as soon as our conversation was over. I had no intention of ever meeting AlphaDog. But it’d been a while since I’d been bad, and I was overdue.
I pulled off my sweater and bra. My body wasn’t perfect, but I had good boobs and a small waist. I wouldn’t look out of place in the 1950s. Using the camera on my laptop, I took a picture and sent it. While waiting for his reply, I chewed my lip. Thrilling excitement rushed through me. Tonight one of my toys would get a thorough workout.
A new message popped up. If I were with you, I’d push you down on the bed and titty fuck you. Would you like that? Would you like to surround my cock with your tits? Play with your nipples and spread my hot cum all over your body?
When I typed my reply, anticipation shook my fingers. Yes.
Give me more than that. Tell me your dirtiest fantasy. One you’re afraid to admit to even yourself.
I groaned and squeezed my thighs together. I couldn’t tell him my dirtiest fantasy. There were times I couldn’t even think about it. Sometimes, late at night, usually when I’d drunk too much wine, I’d imagine Dylan on top of me, holding me against the mattress, fucking me until I screamed.
I’m waiting …
The sanitized version of that particular fantasy was all I was willing to give.
I can’t believe I’m telling a stranger this. I have a fantasy where I’m at home in bed and I’m woken up by someone. He’s already naked. He rips my covers and clothes off and pins me to the bed. He makes me do disgusting things. I hit send.
Disgusting things? Details.
I could log off now and delete my profile or I could continue until I was hot enough to get myself off. My throbbing clit urged me to keep going.
I blew out a breath. He pins me against the bed and kisses me roughly. I squirm and writhe, moaning in protest, but he doesn’t stop. He’s too strong, and I can’t escape. He fucks me over and over. He ties me to the bed to stop me escaping, then he goes down on me and gives me so many orgasms I almost pass out. He jerks off over my pussy and clit and I feel his hot cum drip from me onto the sheets. I like that he treats me like I’m his… slut.
I’m jerking off right now . A photo of his hand curled around his cock appeared on my screen. My pussy fluttered aching to have him fill me up. I closed my eyes and laughed. Drooling over a stranger’s cock was beyond ridiculous. This was as far as it went.
Goodnight! Thanks for the photos.
Afraid?
Was I? The way this virtual stranger made me feel was scary. I didn’t know a thing about him, but in a ten minute back and forth conversation, he got me in a way no man ever had. I logged out and shut down my laptop. I was as horny as hell and I needed to do something about it before I burst with frustration.
Chapter Three
Every night for the next week, I chatted with AlphaDog. And every night our messages grew dirtier and more graphic. It was getting out of control. Cybersex was my new obsession; I craved his words like an addict craved crack. Neither of us brought up meeting in the real world. It seemed we both enjoyed the anonymity that came with our nightly sex sessions. I would lie in bed with my vibrator close by, masturbating as he described everything he wanted to do to me.
“So, honey,” Mom said, startling me from my erotic reverie. “Any sign of those grandbabies yet?”
“Nope.” I rolled my eyes and glanced at Dylan, waiting for his input. He was oddly preoccupied with his phone. In fact, he’d been preoccupied all evening without firing one barbed or sarcastic comment my way. Maybe he was sick of always arguing with me.
My phone beeped. It was a video message from AlphaDog. This was a surprising and welcome first. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Giddy, I opened his message and pressed play. He jerked off with long slow sensual strokes, his breath coming fast and hard. He didn’t say a word, but the sounds of his excitement shook me like the trembling aftershocks of a small earthquake.
“Fuck.” My clit tingled, but I didn’t have time to do anything about it. Going back to the table with a flushed face would raise too many questions. The video ended with his cum spurting out. I licked my lips, dying to taste him.
Giggling, I shoved down my jeans and panties and sat spread-eagled on the floor. I positioned my phone so I wouldn’t film my face or my surroundings. I hit the record button and spread myself wide. Arousal dripped from me. If I was quick, it would take no more than a minute to climax. So what if I went back to the dinner table with a flushed face? I slid two fingers inside my slick pussy and used the fingertips of my other hand to tease my clit. The thought of him jerking off to me masturbating sent me over the edge fast. I bit my lip to stop making any noise. The last thing I wanted was my gathered family to hear the sounds of my orgasm.
After fixing myself and splashing water over my face, I sent AlphaDog the video with the message, I have to meet you.
At the dinner table, Dylan idly thumbed through his phone. When I sat down, he glanced up. The expression on his face seemed heated and somewhat…angry. God knows what had pissed him off this time. But I was in too much of a good mood to care. For the rest of dinner, I continually checked my phone to see if AlphaDog had replied to my meet up request. He hadn’t. Disappointment lay heavy on my stomach.
****
In the car on the way to my apartment, Dylan didn’t say a word.
I turned to face him. “Okay, what did I do? I think I prefer the shitty way you talk to me over the silent treatment.”
He kept his eyes fixed on the road. “Nothing’s wrong. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Libby.”
An explosive breath left my lungs. “You’re so right, brother dearest.” A strained silence filled the car the rest of the way home.
Forgetting all about Dylan and his mood swings, I logged onto eLove praying AlphaDog had sent me a message. Still nothing. I should never have admitted I wanted to see him. I should have waited until he asked. I was an idiot. An overeager moron. I’d probably scared him off and lost him.
After an hour of nothing, I gave up and went to bed. If I didn’t hear from him tomorrow, I’d send him a message and play it off like I’d been joking around. Say I wanted to keep things as they were—fun and casual with neither of us having to reveal our true identity.
A large hand clamped over my mouth wrenching me from sleep. My eyes flew open. Terror seized control, and every cell in my body froze. The lights in my room were off, and it was too dark to make out anything but silhouettes. Panic rose, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it would rip my ribcage apart. I grabbed my attacker’s forearm, scoring his skin with my nails.
Chapter Four
“Ssssh. Don’t scream,” he whispered. As soon as I got the chance, screaming was the first thing I intended to do.
He ripped the covers from my bo
dy, and I cursed myself for wearing a thong and ribbed tank top to bed. My nipples hardened when the cold air hit my skin. He lifted his hand on my mouth and leaned down.
“You wanted to meet me? Here I am.”
That voice. The familiar scent of spicy cologne. Dylan? Dylan was AlphaDog? No way. No fucking way. I shook my head and closed my eyes. No. No. No. He lifted his hand from my mouth and pinned my wrists to the mattress.
“Dylan? What? What are you doing? We can’t.” Even as the words came from my mouth, my body betrayed me. I wanted this.
Realization slapped me across the face. I’d masturbated in our childhood home and sent him the video. That’s why he was so preoccupied with his phone during dinner. Shame ate me up, and I wanted to sink into the mattress and die.
“You asshole, you knew it was me all along.” I kicked my bare legs, whined and struggled, but his grasp was inescapable. “How did you find out my username?”
“It’s a variation of the name you always use. PerfectIrishLass wasn’t a hard one to track down.”
“I fucking hate you. Let me go.” I continued to kick and squirm but it was useless, he had over a hundred pounds on me.
“Let you go? Why would I do that?” Freeing one of my wrists, he switched on the bedside lamp; the glaring light momentarily blinded me. When my eyes adjusted, I stared at him. He was buck-naked, and the cock I’d spent the last two weeks drooling over was even more impressive in the flesh. He freed my other wrist and ripped my tank top down the center, exposing my body to his hungry gaze. Forcefully, he seized one of my breasts and fondled it to the point of pain. My pussy walls clenched, needing him inside me. I tore my gaze from his cock and stared at him. A carnal smile curved his lips, and the expression on his face was confident and sure. The shadowy light made him look threatening, and although he didn’t scare me, my muscles were tripwire tight in preparation to fight.
“Relax, Lib. I know you want me. I want you just as much.”
Nine Steamy Step Stories Page 23
