Fetish

by Sherri L. King

  The tip of his cock piercing glinted directly in front of her face. His hand held her head fast, tight, making her look at him as he towered over her. “Wet your lips.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Do it.”

  “Violanti, you’re scaring—”

  He jerked her head up, bent down, and licked her lips himself. Her heart thundered. Her body was heavily aroused despite her alarm, her nipples hard and tingling, her pussy already hot and wet with need.

  “Open your mouth. Wide.”

  She thought to resist, but the roaring flood of her own arousal drowned out any protests she might have made. And she felt sure that Violanti, this raging and volatile Violanti, would have ignored them anyway. She opened her mouth. As wide as she could.

  “Now fuck me with your mouth, sugar girl,” he commanded crudely.

  She was compelled to pause, pucker her lips, and kiss him first. Her own overpowering desire and curiosity softened the moment despite his harsh and imperious insistences. His skin was hot and smooth as satin. He smelled so strongly here of almond and cinnamon that she felt nearly suffocated by it. Every breath she took was warm and thick with his delicious scent. She was dizzy with it.

  The silver bar clicked against her teeth as she widened her mouth over him. He was so thick she had no chance of taking much between her lips, but she managed enough to swallow the crown into the back of her throat. Violanti’s hand spasmed in her hair and was joined by the second as he guided her head over him. Glancing upward she could just see the thick muscles of his arms and chest as they bulged and trembled, and the sight of that gave her a feeling of immense power.

  That she could weaken a man as strong as Violanti was exhilarating knowledge indeed.

  Her lips stretched tighter over him. She moved over him, thrusting him in and out of her mouth as she suckled and licked every inch of him she could reach. He tasted like sweet, sugary almonds, as if he bathed in them. Wet, slurping sounds excited them both as her mouth moved over him again and again. Aerin had never thought that such primal, naked sounds could enflame her so, but they did.

  The thick round head of him bumped the back of her throat and he shouted, hands mashing her face tighter against him until she nearly swallowed him. “Yes,” his breath hissed out between clenched teeth, “just like that. Oh you make me want to fuck, sugar girl. I’ve been hard as a rock since the first moment I heard your voice.”

  The tender, considerate lover she’d grown accustomed to was no more. In its place was this amazing, earthy, demanding man and it excited her to no end. Her heart thundered, her blood roared. Every groan, every grunt he made as she sucked and licked him filled her with ecstasy.

  “Suck me, yes just like that. Maledire. Your mouth feels almost as good as your pussy.” He undulated his hips against her, thrusting his cock so deep in her mouth she saw stars.

  The taste of him drowned her. The scent of him flooded her senses, made her crazy for him. No man had the right to smell so good. No woman on earth could have smelled him and not thought of crawling all over him. And Aerin vowed to herself that no woman would ever get the chance to taste him, not like this, not ever again. No woman, save her.

  His hands cupped the sides of her head, stilling her, urging her to look up at him. She did. His eyes were silver again, then green, then blue and unbelievably, violet.

  “I’m going to come in your mouth.”

  She shivered at the dark promise, wishing he’d get on with it, she was thirsting for it, starving for it. The heat in his gaze scorched her. His cock was still deep in her mouth, her lips swollen around it. She licked him and his hands shook against her face.

  “You will swallow every drop. Won’t you?” He sounded almost as if he needed her consent. “Every damn drop.”

  In assent, she slowly nodded over him and was wickedly delighted when his eyes swooned up in the back of his head. Her hands came up and cupped his balls, reveling in the cry she wrought from between his gritting teeth.

  He moved then, creating a steady rhythm that she had no choice but to follow. His hands tangled in her hair again, clenching there spasmodically with every motion she made over him.

  The thick weight of him was so hot in her mouth, so smooth and hard. She loved it, wanted more, took more until she might have gagged. He tasted so incredibly good.

  “Fottere mi,” he whispered dreamily. “Fuck me, yes do it. Like that. Just a…little…more…”A pulse rippled through the length of him as she pulled and sucked. Hot, wet sweetness flooded her mouth and washed down the back of her throat. Violanti shouted, long and loud, until his roar of completion echoed off the walls around them. The taste of him, honeyed cinnamon, was delicious, and she eagerly swallowed every burst that erupted forth.

  Burning, aching, yearning hunger overtook her. Her veins were on fire, thirsting for something she couldn’t name or understand. With an eager need she feasted on him, on his ejaculate, as if it were some exotic candy that she could never have enough of. Her body shook. Strange, primitive noises escaped the back of her throat, vibrating along the length of him so that he swayed against her, spurting even harder into the depths of her hungry mouth. Sucking him, pumping him with her hands and mouth, she dredged up every bit of his essence and demanded more.

  And still it was not enough.

  Violanti let out a cry that was close to a scream, like some maddened jungle animal in the throes of passion, or pain, or a mixture of both. The last flood of him in her mouth was a trickle of sweetness compared to the storm of the first eruptions, and she lapped it up until nothing was left. Not one drop.

  Limp and heavy, completely spent, Violanti collapsed back onto the floor, landing hard.

  Crazed with lust, with frightening hungers she had no name for, Aerin crawled over him, mouth seeking. But he held her back, his strength diminished but still far too powerful for her to resist. Instead, he pulled her up his body, urging her to partake of a different sort of feast altogether.

  Aerin straddled him. His cock was still hard as marble. Wet and shiny from her mouth, it stabbed up towards her so that she easily moved to impale herself on its thick length. Short, gasping screams erupted from between her swollen lips and she was powerless to hold them back as she sank down upon him.

  So big. He was so big. She couldn’t possibly take him in this position.

  But she did. He filled her so fully, so deeply, she could have sworn that she felt him in the back of her throat.

  “Give to me, Aerin. Give all of yourself to me.”

  She did. With his hands firmly grasping her hips to guide her, she began to ride him. Sinking up and down on his scorching hot cock, feeling it stretch her near to bursting, she rode him. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she clutched for purchase, for any anchor in this violence of passion and lust. Violanti growled, clearly enjoying the pain of her claws in his flesh, and thrust up into her. Thrust deep and hard enough to bruise.

  Aerin screamed.

  Violanti echoed her cry.

  He pulled her down over him, taking one of her swaying nipples into his mouth hungrily. The long, lean strength of his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass, pulling and lifting her upon him in a rough gallop. His hips bucked into her down strokes, his mouth drew upon her nipple until it hurt. That sweet pain made her gasp. She ground her clit into him, rubbing hard against him, bouncing faster and faster on him with the help of his incredible strength.

  Warmth spread in her chest. Her heart raced. Her head grew dizzy and faint. Her short, sobbing screams grew longer until they became wails. Her fingernails drew blood on his shoulders and chest, and Violanti thrashed beneath her.

  A hot, liquid pulse like a fist or heartbeat, pounded deep inside her womb. It washed to every cell in her body, swamping her, taking her down, down into the ruthless shadows of pain and pleasure and ecstasy. “Violanti,” she cried out his name over and over again. His mouth moved from her nipple to her mouth, drinking down her cries like drops of blood.<
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  His hips crashed into hers one last time and, impossibly, she felt the splash of his come in her pussy as he found another release. For a moment she mourned the loss—she would so have liked to swallow him again—but if her mouth couldn’t drink him down then at least her womb would. As if in echo to her thoughts, the walls of her cunt milked him, swallowing his liquid fire hungrily. Squeezing him, clenching him, making her shake and sob.

  When she had calmed, she was laying full length upon him, limp and heavy. They were still joined, both wet and raw from their passion. The tips of his fingers were rubbing gently over the moue of her anus, each caress wringing another tremor from her already exhausted body.

  Lying there, his fingers playing over her, her face buried in the crook of his neck, she smiled. And burst into joyous tears.

  * * * * *

  “It’s almost dawn, love,” he whispered.

  They must have been lying on the floor like this for a long time. “How do you know,” she murmured lethargically, not really caring how, merely wanting to prolong the moment.

  “I can feel it.”

  That sounded like a leading statement, as if he wanted her to ask how he could feel it. How it was possible. But she didn’t ask. Didn’t want to ask. “Do I have to go then?” Please say no.

  “Yes,” he sounded weary now, maybe even a little disappointed. In her or in their situation? She didn’t know.

  He sat up with her easily. Too easily. She was astonished at how strong he was. Without even grunting over the burden of her weight he rose from their prone position, lifting her with him in a fluid motion that made her head swim. She giggled and burrowed her face deeper into the crook of his neck.

  “Get dressed,” he said gently, lowering her to her feet slowly, reluctantly. “Hurry.”

  She bent over to get her panties from the floor and immediately felt Violanti press his hardness into her. “Damn. Stand still.” His hand shook as he put one hand on her back to keep her bent and filled her with one hard shove that slid in deep and wet and scorching hot.

  Aerin cried out. Violanti thrust three times, deep hard thrusts that made her burn, then pulled out of her as swiftly as he’d filled her.

  He bent down behind her and, shocking her to the core, he put his open mouth on her. The hot wet velvet of his tongue bathed her, stabbed deep, then laved away all her tenderness with erotic caresses.

  “Omigod,” she moaned.

  His mouth moved up and he licked her anus, while one long finger thrust easily into her pussy. Quick as a snake, he rose up behind her again and pushed her from him, licking his lips as she turned to face him. She was dumbfounded.

  “Why are you stopping—?”

  “You must get dressed. It’s dawn and I can’t…please get dressed, sugar girl. You drive me crazy with lust when you stand there naked and dazed. Come. I’ll help you,” and he moved to do just that.

  Aerin was getting angry. How could he arouse her like that and just pull away. He was clearly in need of her, his body couldn’t possibly hide that fact. So why not finish it? With an angry huff of breath she finished gathering her things and he led her to the door with a hand in the small of her back.

  Unbelievably she didn’t think he was even going to say goodbye to her. But as she stepped through the door he stopped her with a kiss on her pouting mouth. “You have no idea how wonderful you were tonight, Aerin. No idea how much I needed what you gave me. I hope you’ll come back next Saturday night?”

  Some wicked urge awakened inside her. The urge to hurt him as she was hurting over his abrupt dismissal. It was petty and it was rude and it was totally unlike her. And that was why she did it. “I’m not sure. I’ve got plans for next Saturday. Besides I can’t really afford another trip to this place,” she wouldn’t have believed herself capable of it, but she managed a totally convincing flippant laugh after that bald-faced lie.

  Violanti’s eyes immediately flamed red. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest. What did it mean, that his eyes were so alien and so chameleon like? He didn’t look human. In fact, he looked downright dangerous and deadly with his eyes like that.

  “But you haven’t been charged for coming here. Not since your first visit.”

  Aerin started. Surprised. “What do you mean? Of course I have. Madame Delilah—”

  “She has waived your fees on my request. But for your initial visit here you haven’t been charged a dime.”

  How surprising. She would check her bank account first thing Monday to see if he spoke the truth. Why would the Madame do that for Violanti? Were they close friends, was it a favor to him? She didn’t understand.

  “Break your plans, whatever they are.”

  Anger again. She was a bundle of emotions tonight, confusing, but liberating all the same. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Why was she even arguing? She knew she’d be back here. He had to know it too. But she couldn’t stop. “Don’t tell me what to do, Violanti. I pay you remember? If anyone has the right to be bossy, it should be me.”

  His eyes widened, anger tightened the lines of his mouth. “You do not pay me. And I am bigger, stronger, faster, and older than you. That makes me the boss—”

  Aerin laughed harshly, enjoying and hating their argument all at once. “Honey, you are not older than me. Not even close,” though it flattered her that he might believe so. Even if it was an absurd belief. Anyone who looked at them together would know she was a lot older than he, surely. And for some reason this made her feel stronger, perhaps even a little superior to him.

  He took that from her in an instant. “You’re an infant as far as experience is concerned. I’ve lived more in my years, far more, than you.”

  “I’m leaving,” she glared at him.

  “You’ll come back Saturday.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I’ll think about it,” she surrendered tremulously. “Goodbye, Violanti.”

  He slammed the door behind her, anger vibrating in the horribly loud sound it made.

  She couldn’t get to her car fast enough. Peeling rubber as she pulled out of the drive, she wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into with a man like Violanti.

  That is…if he was even a man at all.

  She had her doubts about that. A lot of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  The painting arrived Wednesday night, almost two full days after she’d somehow—once again—managed to forget Violanti’s face. A teenaged boy, not much taller than her and skinny as a beanpole, brought the brown wrapped package to her door. Thinking the ringing of her doorbell signaled the arrival of Heather—they were going shopping again, Aerin’s clothes were getting too baggy to wear—she didn’t even check through the peephole before throwing wide the door.

  “Ms. Peters?”

  “Yes.”

  The young man held out his large parcel. “This is for you.”

  She started, reaching for it with a puzzled frown. Had she ordered something online and forgotten about it? She couldn’t, for the life of her, remember. “Who’s it from, do you know?”

  “I dunno. My dad just framed it—he owns a shop on Third and Main—and said the guy who paid for it paid extra for us to deliver it by hand as soon as it was finished.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” She reached for her purse, on a table by the door and pulled out five dollars. She offered him the tip and was surprised when he shook his head, grinning.

  “That’s okay. My dad would kill me if I took a tip, especially where such a wealthy client is concerned. He’d say it was ‘bad business’,” he laughed, obviously finding his old man’s business philosophy a bit antiquated.

  “Oh. All right. Thanks again.”

  “No problem. Later.” He jogged off into the night, climbed onto a moped parked on the curb before her house and drove off with a jaunty wave.

  Aerin closed the door and tore excitedly into the paper. Inside, was a beautiful painting done mainly in rich hues of shadowy crimson, gold, and black.
The piercing silver stare of Violanti’s gaze looked out at her from the portrait, as he lounged over and behind a dreamy rendering of her ripe nude body.

  Like a tidal wave that made her sway weakly, she remembered everything.

  Violanti’s face and body, so beautiful it made her heart ache. As dark as a fallen angel—Lucifer in his prime had never been so endowed as her enigmatic, Italian lover.

  His eyes…no human could have eyes like his. She shuddered, and the cold, metallic taste of fear washed through her mouth. They’d been red in the moments of his release. Crimson. The color of fresh, wet blood.

  “How could I have forgotten?” And that was it, the million-dollar question, which held the key to everything that puzzled her about Fetish. About Violanti. About herself.

  And she knew the answer, or at least some of it. It had nothing to do with menopause—she’d been to her doctor Monday just to be sure, and everything had appeared fine—and everything to do with him. With Violanti D’Arco, the strangest, sexiest man she’d ever met. She was as certain of that as she was of her own name. Her memory losses had started after she met him, after her first trip to Fetish, and she only forgot things that had direct links to the club and to her enigmatic lover.

  Lover. The very word made her knees feel like water—it was that decadent. She still couldn’t believe that she, mousy Aerin Peters, had actually taken a lover. But then, she wasn’t so mousy, not anymore.

  This was another change she attributed to Violanti, among others.

  She’d lost weight—a lot of it—without even really noticing. It had been Heather who had finally pointed out how ill-fitting her new clothes were, and only just that day during their shared lunch break. Aerin hadn’t changed her diet, hadn’t exercised—she hated exercise—she hadn’t done anything to facilitate her dramatic weight loss. Aerin had been confused, puzzling all day long about how she could manage to drop the pounds so easily after spending years yo-yo dieting with little or no results. But now that the risqué and downright arousing portrait was here in front of her, she knew that it had something to do with Violanti.