Widow on the Loose

by Stevie MacFarlane

  “I’m taking you now, Claire,” he told her pressing the tip of his cock between the slick lips of her pussy. “Any objections?”

  She didn’t answer, just stared at him with wide stricken eyes and dug her nails into his shoulders. It was close enough to a yes for him. With one firm thrust he was inside, forcing her to accept him, every last inch.

  “Travis,” she screamed, shivering in his hold.

  “Oh God,” he moaned into her neck. He held still, keeping her tightly filled, savoring the moment. It wasn’t something he was likely to forget. She was perfect. Hot, wet, tight and she took all of him, although he felt her quivering, heard her panting as she tried to adjust. On some level he’d always know she would be, always known her body had been created just for him.

  Travis acknowledged that he liked sex, he always had, but this was different. His cock somehow made her an extension of him. They were pieces of a puzzle snapping tightly together. He felt his world shift, thought he actually heard a loud click that reverberated in his brain. He’d taken her, but now feared she owned him. It was a staggering realization and something he would never say out loud.

  In anger, he pushed harder, felt her hands fluttering around his shoulders like the wings of a butterfly and recognized her fragility. He felt strong, powerful, enormous, his heart pounding madly in his chest, his breath ragged. One hand cupped her bottom and the other crushed her to his chest as he carried her to the bed.

  “Claire, oh Claire,” he whispered into her hair as he lowered her to the bed without letting an inch of space separate them. “I’m sorry it has to be like this the first time,” he growled, pinning her in place with his body. His hands cupped her head as he bore his weight on his forearms.

  He felt her legs tighten around his waist as she arched beneath him and nearly lost what little sense he had left.

  “Travis,” she whispered. “That was George and I. Romance, candlelight, soft music…”

  He brushed away a tear that slipped down her cheek and watched her intently.

  “You and I, we’re like fire and ice. We’ve been dancing for years yet never touching. Take me now, Travis. End this so I can move on,” she pleaded.

  Later Travis would have liked to say he answered her plea and made love to her, but it wasn’t true. He answered, but in the most primitive way a man could. He fucked her long, hard, passionately until she did scream out his name and the neighbors probably did hear them.

  His body seemed determined to lay claim to every inch of her flesh. He fucked her so hard she moved across the bed and he had to keep pulling her back. His hands pinned hers above her head while his lips left her nipples red and swollen, his teeth left tiny bite marks at the curve of her neck. Still he couldn’t stop. Each long thrust was better than the last. Each orgasm that clamped down on him forced him to shake off his own. This could not end. He would not allow it, yet it did. Even his incredible will was not enough to stop the tingling in his spine, the frozen lightening that traveled from his rock hard balls to the end of his cock before pumping into her over and over so forcefully he could barely keep from screaming himself. Instead, a deep throated roar of triumph released itself from somewhere inside him, somewhere it had been held for a very long time.

  They lay beside each other, panting yet quiet. He felt the sweat cooling on his body and wondered if she were cold. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. Finally, she turned toward him placing her hand on his heart and swirling his chest hair around her finger.

  “Travis?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re not still going to spank me with that horrible thing are you?” she asked softly, her eyes sated and sleepy.

  “I’m afraid so,” he replied. “I would think after all these years you wouldn’t doubt I mean what I say.”

  Claire’s head popped up and she glared at him.

  “Fuck you,” she huffed, turning over to face the other way.

  “If you insist,” he drawled, snagging her waist with his arm and pulling her back against him. He wasn’t sure if he was hard again or still, but he wasn’t planning on wasting it. Lifting her leg, he pulled it over his hip and slid inside her from behind as he moved his hand to her pelvis. Spreading his fingers, he held her firmly despite her scrambling feet.

  “God, I love being inside you,” he admitted as he arched his hips. He heard her answering moan even though she tried to hide it with a cough. “You like it too, don’t you, baby?”

  “It’s okay,” she replied.

  Travis laughed and slipped his hand lower, finding her clit with his long middle finger.

  “Don’t lie to me, honey,” he warned as he kissed the back of her neck and stroked her nub. “You’re already getting a hell of a spanking.”

  “All right, you jerk,” she hissed as she pushed back against him with a groan. “I like it.”

  “A lot?” he teased, nipping her ear.

  “What do you want from me?” she cried. “All right, I like it a lot. In fact, I love it. There does that satisfy you?” she panted, wiggling her bottom and trying to smother her gasp of pleasure.

  “It’s a start but I have a feeling I’ll never be satisfied, never get enough of you, of this,” he sighed. “That is not a good thing.”

  Now Claire laughed.

  “Oh I don’t know. If feels pretty good from this end,” she said with a giggle as she rotated her hips.

  “I hope you don’t imagine you can turn me into some sort of pussy-whipped sap,” he warned, thrusting hard and holding her tightly impaled on him.

  “Me? Why would I ever think anything like that?” she purred as she kegeled her inner muscles.

  “Fuck,” he moaned.

  “Well, that was the plan but so far…”

  With a growl, Travis flipped her over onto her belly and hiked her ass up.

  “Where is that damn spatula when I need it,” he complained as he slapped her ass hard.

  “Ow, I don’t know,” she yelped, “but I hope you never find it. Please, Travis,” she sighed, looking at him over her shoulder. “I need you.”

  “Oh, baby, finally something we can agree on,” he responded as he picked up the pace. This time, the long drawn out thrusts thrilled him. Much more in control he, reached around and manipulated her clit until she was keening. Still he made her wait, feeling pretty proud of his prowess.

  “Travis, I need to come now,” she pleaded.

  “Soon, sweetheart,” he cooed. “When I say.”

  What she did then shocked him. Suddenly her hips were making a figure eight while her little ass humped him with an amazing rhythm. Somehow his mind unraveled and he was right there with her, riding and matching each of her thrusts until she screamed out her release. He had no choice but to follow her over the edge. Her quivering, clutching pussy ensured that. Damn this woman was dangerous, he decided as he kept her pinned to the bed long after the last jet of come left him.

  Claire wiggled in supreme satisfaction and closed her eyes. Apparently she didn’t care if he stayed inside her all night. Now that he thought about it, neither did he. Flopping over on his side, he took her with him and promptly fell asleep holding her close, his semi-hard cock still warm and snug within her.

  Sometime during the night, he woke to find her huddled against his side and pulled the covers over them. Lord, she was so sweet like this. Her soft breath fanned his throat as her head rested on his shoulder. Warm breasts moved gently as her chest rose and fell. He could get used to this he realized, but these were the rare moments, the few and far between moments. Usually, she was difficult, argumentative and demanding.

  In many ways, she had closed herself off since George died. He almost never knew what she was thinking and she didn’t see the need to tell him her plans unless she needed something from him. Frequently, she did outrageous things like selling her apartment and running off to the south of France with a man she barely knew. Today’s stunt was borderline crazy. What did she think they w
ere going to do all weekend, climb over the piano to get in and out of the apartment?

  He needed to remember that tonight was an anomaly, a rare slice of time when, for whatever reason, their worlds collided and something wonderful happened. In the morning, he would get up and walk into the minefield of manipulation she’d created in his home. It was blackmail, plain and simple. Give her what she wanted or pay the price. She said the movers were coming back on Monday, but he knew that was contingent on her call.

  Of course, he could call a company of his own, but what good would that do? The contents were hers and with enough money she could have them returned in hours. No, it was clear. She found a place she wanted and he either had to agree or she wasn’t leaving.

  “Mm, Travis,” she sighed, snuggling closer in her sleep.

  “Hmm?” he replied, rubbing her back.

  “Love me,” she murmured patting his chest weakly for a moment before a soft snore escaped.

  A fissure of fear traveled down his spine. That was the last thing he wanted to do. She’d broken his heart once and chipped away at the cobbled mess he’d managed to put back together for years. No, he didn’t want to love her. Not again.

  Chapter Eight

  Opening her eyes, Claire blinked in the dim morning light. Travis was gone, but lying on his pillow was the big, blue spatula. Apparently it was his way of reminding her they still had unfinished business. Picking it up, she tossed it across the room and got out of bed. Padding to the bathroom, she used the toilet and then turned on the shower.

  The walls were still wet and she could smell his body wash. None of her products were in here; in fact, there was no sign of any woman having spent time here, which for some reason pleased her. Turning off the water, she walked naked from his room and down the hall to hers.

  Claire showered, washed her hair and her body, paying gentle attention to the area between her legs that was incredibly tender. In the mirror, she noticed the patches of whisker burn on her breasts. Tiny purple hickeys marred the side of her neck.

  “What is he, fourteen?” she asked herself out loud as her fingers gently traced them. No, he’d marked her! It was his way of staking his claim. She knew it as surely as she knew he would spank her and mean it. Crap, she had to get out of here, but she couldn’t. She needed him to go with her today, needed his approval before she could proceed. Damn George for appointing him her trustee. Why did he have to pick the one man she…

  She what, she asked herself. Wanted? Hated? Cared what he thought of her? Needed? The one man who would not give into her tantrums, would hold her accountable? Damn. Now she had a headache. She needed coffee.

  Pulling on a pair of plaid boxers and a tank top, she made her way through the mess that used to be the living room. She smelled bacon. And coffee, yes lovely, blessed coffee. Her stomach growled and she recalled that she hadn’t really eaten last night.

  “Morning,” Travis said as he slid two eggs onto a plate. Spinning he snagged toast from the air and tossed it on a paper towel to butter.

  Who had a toaster that shot toast out like a rocket launcher?

  “Morning,” she replied, climbing up on a stool.

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving. Is it safe to be out here with you?” she asked warily.

  “Perfectly, I make it a practice never to spank my women on an empty stomach,” he replied nonchalantly as he fixed her plate.

  “Travis, please,” she whispered, blushing. “Then I’m not eating.”

  “Not your stomach, mine,” he said with a laugh. “I’m a much more reasonable man when I’m not hungry.”

  “Then by all mean, you eat first,” Claire insisted, shoving her plate across the counter and hopping off her stool. “I’ll just have some cake.”

  “Not for breakfast you won’t. Sit,” he ordered. “You didn’t eat last night and I’ve got this.” Pouring her a cup of coffee, he placed it in front of her and pushed her plate back with a pointed glance. In a very few minutes, he filled his own plate and took a seat beside her at the counter.

  “Do you want to discuss last night?” he asked, taking a bite of toast.

  “Do you?” she countered.

  “Only to inquire if you’re okay?” he replied, turning to look her over.

  “I’m fine, a little…tender in places but fine if you don’t count the whisker burn and the hickeys I thought went out of fashion in the seventies.”

  Travis scrubbed a hand over his jaw and nodded.

  “Somehow stopping to shave didn’t seem appropriate at the time, and, in my opinion, there are some things that never go out of fashion.”

  Claire felt her skin heat and looked away. He was damn sexy in his white tee shirt, black boxers and white socks. His hair was damp and mussed. She fought the urge to run her fingers through it, longed to trail her fingernails along his jaw.

  Feeling him watching, she kept her own eyes cast down at her plate and squirmed. It was entirely possible that, for Travis, spanking women fell into the category of things that never went out of fashion.

  “Tell me about this property you want me to look at?” he suggested.

  “It’s pretty run down,” she began, forcing herself to meet his eyes and seeing genuine interest. “There’s no realtor. It’s for sale by owner, so I think we might be able to make a good deal. Of course, it will need a lot of work and that will take time and money, but I’m hopeful.”

  “I take it it’s not an apartment?”

  “It’s a brownstone that was converted into several apartments at one time. Currently only one is rented and the owner, an older gentleman lives in the first floor flat. He’s looking to move in with his sister and feels the building is more than he can handle and when you see it you’ll know right away he’s correct.”

  “So your plan is to become a landlord?” he asked in surprise.

  “No. It’s commercially zoned. I want to start a business,” she stated warily.

  “What kind of business?” he asked, picking up his coffee.

  “A preschool, or daycare if you prefer. I want to provide childcare and early childhood education for low income families, mainly single mothers.”

  “You’re kidding?” he asked, stunned.

  “No, I’m not,” she replied, meeting his eyes.

  “And you see this as a way of generating income?”

  “Not particularly,” Claire admitted with a crooked grin. “In fact, I’d be happy to break even and I doubt I will, at least not at first.”

  “I don’t know,” Travis said thoughtfully. “I hear many of those places charge a fortune. It’s almost impossible for some kids to even get in. Most of the better ones have a waiting list months long.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have a waiting list too, but not for the reasons you suggest. I don’t expect to make much of a profit, Travis. I hope to employ qualified single parents who can’t afford expensive daycare. The cost of their child attending will be included in a benefit package and later, when their children are in regular school, they will get a wage increase.

  “I want kids who are disadvantaged to have a safe place to learn and grow, socializing with other children. Fees will be on a sliding scale, but I won’t turn away any child except to meet the occupancy guidelines required by the state.”

  “Who are you going to get to run this place for you?” he asked.

  “Me. I’m going to manage it myself,” she informed him. His disbelieving expression didn’t do much for her mood.

  “You?” he laughed. “You’re actually going to get a job?”

  “Yes, Travis,” she snapped, glowering at him. “Last night you told me to stick a fork in you and I just might,” she threatened, raising her fork in his direction.

  “Sorry. It’s not often the belle of the ball wants to be Cinderella. You’ve surprised me.”

  Hopping off her stool, she tossed her plate in the sink.

  “I’m going to get a job; in fact, I’m going to create jobs. An entrepreneur i
s the proper term I believe.”

  “There’s more to this than buying a building and taking in kids, you know,” he pointed out, getting up too. “There are licenses and fees, regulations and inspections and a whole host of red tape and bureaucratic crap to wade through.”

  “I know.”

  “Why?” he asked, scraping his plate and putting both hers and his in the dishwasher.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you doing this? Are you worried about money? You don’t have to get a job, Claire; you just have to be more responsible.”

  “Everyone has to do something, Travis, and since the demand for self-indulgent, wealthy widows, or should I say ‘cougars,’ is low, I may as well put my education to use. I believe you said something similar when I returned from France.”

  “Yes, I said a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have,” he admitted, running his hand through his hair. “Look, Claire, George never intended for you to have to work. He wanted to protect you and provide for you the rest of your life. Opening some cheesy daycare in a depressed neighborhood isn’t what he had in mind.”

  “Travis Forrester,” she gasped. “You’re a freaking snob,” she said in shock. “I knew you didn’t like kids, but I never knew you were a…”

  “I never said I didn’t like kids,” he shot back, clearly frustrated. “They’re fine for other people; I just don’t particularly want any of my own. Looking out for you about stretches my limit for childish behavior.”

  “Well, hopefully you won’t have to worry about that much longer. I intend to be totally self-sufficient once I get this thing off the ground.”

  “I’m not going to let you toss a shitload of money at a bad investment,” he informed her firmly. “I want to see the building and I’ll want a business prospectus showing how you’re going to make this fly before I let you invest one dime.”