by Dani Dundee
He stood before her, pulled off his tie, and tore his shirt open, buttons flying. His hardened cock bounced off six-pack abs as he moved toward her.
Claire started to sit up.
“Don't move,” he said, in a voice that she didn't dare to challenge.
“I'm going to make love to you. Some things may be different than what you've done before, but I'm asking you to agree to follow along with me this one time. I think you'll want to do it again, but if you don't, I won't ask. Do you agree?”
Claire's eyes widened, and she bit her lip. She couldn't wait for him to start, but before she could respond, he spoke again.
“One more thing. If at any time you want me to stop, just say so, and I will. You have my word.”
She pulled herself up to the top of the bed. “When do we start?”
A smile spread across Alex's face. “Right now.”
He sat on the bed and stroked the side of her face.
“There are rules that you must follow for tonight, Claire. First, you may not touch me again unless I direct you to do so. You speak only when directed or to answer a question.”
His hand traveled down her neck to the buttons of her blouse, undoing one at a time, his eyes never leaving her face. “Agreed so far?”
Claire nodded her head, feeling a dull ache traveling from her groin to the core of her belly. She closed her eyes, hoping his fingers would continue down between her legs.
“Open your eyes!”
Her lids sprung open in surprise, but she bowed her head slightly, to indicate she understood.
Alex finished undoing her blouse and reached behind to unsnap her bra. His fingers traveled to the button and zip closure on the side of her short, tight skirt, which now was bunched up under her.
He quickly unfastened the skirt and lifted her off the bed, setting her down on her feet. The skirt fell to the floor. He removed her blouse and bra and pulled her panties to the ground, his hand brushing against her ankles.
“Step away from your clothes.”
She took a step toward him, her heart pounding, but stopped short of him, knowing that touching without permission was forbidden.
“Good,” he said. “Wait here.”
He turned and walked into what she presumed was the bathroom once she heard water running. Alex returned in another minute, lifted her in his arms again, and brought her into the en suite with him this time.
The master bathroom was almost as big as her entire studio apartment. In the center, the large black marble tub was filling with water, and she could see a massive layer of bubbles foaming on top. Alex placed her gently at one end. Her bottom settled in on what felt like a small shelf, cradling and supporting her as she stretched her legs out.
Alex stood behind her and gently pulled her hair back into a ponytail and pulled it up, securing it with a hairclip.
A few seconds later, Claire felt a silky fabric slide over her eyes, and Alex tied the blindfold behind her head.
He slipped into the tub at the other end and turned off the water. Claire could hear him fiddling with bottles. Her breasts remained just above the water and she could feel her nipples hardening in the cool air. Alex inched toward her, and she felt his legs against hers just before he began to wash her gently from the shoulders down.
A soft cloth passed over her breasts, and he lifted each to wash underneath. His hands moved down her abdomen and the cloth slid over her sex. He used the fingers of one hand to spread her pussy open and gently ran the cloth the length of her slit.
“Bend you knees and slide down a bit,” he said.
Claire complied and Alex continued the cleansing process between her butt cheeks. She could feel his fingers pressing against her through the soft cloth, lingering at her openings, but not entering. Just a gentle massage that sent tingles of pleasure shooting through her body.
Claire rested her head against the pillowed edge of the tub and lifted up, hoping he’d drop the cloth and push his fingers inside her, but no such luck. She heard soft splashes and the sound of the water being sucked down the drain. Then she heard the water turned on again and felt a spray against her skin as Alex rinsed her body.
The water flow ceased and he lifted her from the tub. She was immediately wrapped in a plush towel. She felt Alex’s strong arms around her once more as he carried back to the bedroom.
He set her down on her feet, and the towel dropped to the floor. She heard a drawer open and he lifted her, placing her on her back on the bed. He wrapped her wrists in fabric, and Claire could tell by the scraping sound that Velcro secured the cuffs. He lifted her arms above her head, and she felt the tension of perhaps rope or bands being pulled taut and attached to something above her head.
He repeated a similar process with her ankles, except that her legs were spread as they were secured to the bottom of the bed.
“Are you comfortable, Claire?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Are you feeling pressure or pain anywhere?”
“No.”
Claire heard a click and classical music filled the room. It was the same arrangement she had heard in the car. She wished she had asked Trevor about the composer.
Her thoughts about the music were interrupted as she felt the light touch of something, perhaps a feather, being swept from her hairline, down the side of her face, to her shoulders, to the sensitive skin under her arms and down her sides, all the way to the tips of her feet. It took all her concentration not buck up and down on the mattress in response to being tickled.
Alex repeated the movement on her other side and then moved the tickler across her shoulders once and then to the center of her chest, moving down her body, between her breasts, over her nipples, down her abdomen to her sex. He circled her clit several times and then ran the tickler along her slit.
Claire could no longer restrain her movements on the bed and raised her hips in response. She felt her juices dripping on the insides of her thighs.
“Does that feel good?” Alex asked.
“Oh, yes!” Claire moaned for emphasis.
He climbed on the bed, and she felt him kneel between her legs. His fingers replicated the movement of the feather, but with more pressure. They moved through her wet folds, circling her clit, and slid down again, pressing against her opening, but not entering her. He continued until her hips rocked uncontrollably against the bed. He cupped his large hand over her sex. She felt one finger pressing her rear opening and another on her front.
“You’re so wet, Claire. Does this feel good to you?”
“Yes.” She spoke in a low and deep voice, almost moaning out her answer.
“Do you want more?”
“Oh my God, yes.”
With one push, she felt his fingers move deep within both her entries. As she raised her hips again, she felt his warm lips meet her clit. Alex alternated sucking with biting her hardened nub until she thrashed beneath him.
Suddenly he withdrew and did nothing for what seemed like eternity to Claire. Unable to control her need, she moaned, trying to bring her legs together in an attempt to sate the craving she felt between her legs.
She heard the rip of a wrapper, the snap of a condom, and just as suddenly as he withdrew, she felt him enter her. His hard cock thrust up and filled her with one push. He began an in and out motion, filling her to the brim and sliding out, until only his tip rested against her opening, over and over again.
Claire’s inner muscles expanded and contracted around him until she felt one hard thrust and knew Alex was going to peak. She clenched around him, and as she felt his body strain above her, she released the pressure, sending him deeper inside her than she thought possible. They held the position until they climaxed simultaneously and loudly.
Within seconds, Claire felt her arms and legs freed, and her blindfold removed. Alex was propped over her on the bed, a serious look on his face.
She took her unrestrained arms and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him down so
she could kiss him. Then she pulled back. “Is it all right to touch you now?”
He put his arms under her and rolled over on his back, pulling her on top of him. She felt his manhood between her legs and realized he had removed the condom. He nudged her head, pushing down, indicating what he wanted. “Does that answer your question?”
Claire smiled as she slid down, kissing as she went, until her mouth once more closed over his glorious cock.
She looked up at him through her lashes as she began to suck.
“Claire,” he whispered. “Will you spend the night?”
She gently lifted her lips off him and smiled.
“Yes,” she said, and resumed her position.
*
Claire awoke to the sounds of drapes being pulled and the sudden feel of sunlight on her face. She stretched and opened her eyes sleepily, sitting up abruptly when she realized where she was. Alex was dressed in jeans and a tight black tee shirt stretched snugly over his wide chest. A cart with covered dishes was at her side of the bed.
“Ready for breakfast?” he asked.
Claire stretched lazily and brought the sheet up to cover herself.
“Mmm. We never ate dinner last night, did we?”
He pulled a chair up to the other side of the cart and sat down as he began to uncover the dishes. “Well, that depends on what constitutes eating for you. Coffee?”
“Yes, please. And orange juice,” she said, pointing the pitcher.
They ate slowly, looking at one another without speaking. When Claire put down her fork and pushed away her plate, Alex rose and moved the cart aside.
“Would you like to take a ride to the Keys today? It’s a beautiful day for a bike trip.”
“On the back of that ninja bike?” Claire asked, not trying to hide the dismay in her voice.
He laughed. “No, I think the Harley today.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “But I didn’t come prepared with the right clothes.”
He pointed to a pair of jeans, a crop top, and boots laid out at the bottom of the bed. “Those will fit you. We matched them to the size of the clothes you were wearing when you came here.”
“We?”
“I gave them to Trevor, and he called in an order, which was delivered shortly before I woke you.”
Claire bounded out of bed to inspect the outfit that a man ordered for her, and was pleased. “I think these will do nicely,” she said, and brought the clothing into the bathroom to shower and dress.
Once inside, she noticed the cosmetics from her purse were arranged on the vanity counter. “Thanks for all this,” she called out.
She came out dressed and ready to go. “Trevor did really well. This all fits perfectly.”
He was facing out the window and turned to her. She could see he was pleased.
“Wait,” she said. “Turn around again, please.” He did so, and she noticed the shirt he was wearing had no writing on it.
“Can I pick out something for you to wear?” she asked.
Alex look amused, but pointed her in the direction of his walk-in closet. She quickly passed the long double rack of pants and jackets to a series of dresser drawers against the far wall. She opened several before finding his folded tee-shirts. It took several minutes to locate the one he was wearing on the night they met.
She brought it out and he changed into it without questioning her, although he gave her a quizzical look. Claire smiled, but said nothing.
Ten minutes later, they wove through traffic headed to I-95 South toward Key Largo. She spotted a Harley Davidson store as they made their way down the street, and poked Alex.
“Let’s stop here,” she said, pointing to the store.
Alex pulled into the lot, parked, and followed her into the store. “Do you need something else?”
“Yeah, you’ll see. Wait in the front, please,” she said
He shrugged and went to look at a display of boots, while she approached a saleswoman, who nodded and led her to the back of the store.
Claire returned in about ten minutes and twirled around so he could read the writing on her new shirt.
BITCH was spelled out in big, white bold capital letters across the back of her new black tank top.
She faced him again and grinned.
“And I’m not falling off,” she said. “Today, or ever.”
***
The story of Claire and Alex continues...
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About Layla Wilcox
Layla Wilcox is a native New Yorker. She writes about strong women who like all things hot: weather, food, and men--and not necessarily in that order.
When not writing erotic romances, Layla enjoys watching entire seasons of old television series on Amazon Prime while eating homemade vegan pizza, followed by dark chocolate.
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Table of Contents
Red Hot Candy
Table of Contents
The Things I Never Said by Jo Raven
Perfectly Equipped by Lacey Silks
Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Kidnapped by Blair Babylon
A Fan-TAB-Ulous Night by Olivia Rigal
Take it Easy by Daisy Prescott
Before Flesh by Sky Corgan
Scorched into Submission by Daizie Draper
Pandora's Box by Sarah M. Cradit
Braving Love by SJ Mayer
Always Enough by Molly McLain
Mine In Dreams by Olivia Hardin
Like Home by Mira Bailee
Unshakeable by JC Valentine
Yearning to Yield by Pavarti K Tyler
First-Class Scoundrel by Liv Morris
Mated in Bearfield by Jacqueline Sweet
Le Moulin by JC Andrijeski
Jesse's Girl by Alison Foster
Dude by Gillian Cherry
Biker Billionaire's Bitch by Layla Wilcox
Swaying Fate by Irma Geddon
Gender Studies 101 by Dani Dundee
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
SWAYING FATE
by Irma Geddon
SWAYING FATE
by Irma Geddon
SWAYING FATE © Irma Geddon 2015
Atropos, the Fate who ends lives, never expected to walk one night into Old Cupid's bar and fall in love with the one person she can't bear to kill.
CHAPTER ONE
I walk into the LoveSick, trying to ignore for a while the presence of the shears in my pocket, weighing on my mind. Tonight I’m not working—I’ve ignored Sis’s texts trying to get me to obey her wishes. I’m not getting along with my sisters, sadly, and the fact that I want to do my own thing is not helping.
My eyes dart to the counter, where my friend is sitting on a stool, overseeing everything. Only a few patrons are already here—the crowd will be bigger in a few hours, after people get out of their day jobs and go home to look their best for a night out.
The LoveSick is a singles bar, very classy, where every kind of person is accepted—even people like me. And my friend—the small man sitting over there behind the bar, with the blond curls and chubby cheeks? His name is Cupid, and yes, he’s that Cupid.
I sit in front of him, reaching to touch his hand and draw his attention. “Hey, Cupsy. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Aisa, babe. It’s so good to see you.” A smile lightens his face. “I missed you last week at my birthday party. It was fucking great, bitch! You should have come!”
“I promise I’ll be there next year,” I say, contrite. “I had a burial to attend to.”
“Another one? Shit.” He doesn’t even seem surprised anymore, and I don’t even bother to answer.
“How’s retirement?” I ask. Cupid stopped working a while back, not that anyone noticed.
“Meh. I keep wondering what the fuck happened. I shouldn�
��t have grown fucking older—I’m a fucking god, for fuck’s sake! Look at me! I have fucking wrinkles. I am appalled.”
I reach to touch his chubby cheek. “You still look great,” I say, obtaining a crooked smile.
“I can’t figure out what to do. People don’t seem to need me anymore. If you want my opinion, it’s this goddamn digital age! People don’t go out anymore. They meet online and get to know each other on the inside before I can intervene. There’s no fucking need for love at first sight anymore—the web has made me obsolete,” he rants.
I look down, not knowing what to say to make him feel better. Maybe no one can help anymore—he has become bitter, and I can’t say I blame him, I understand where he is coming from. The difficulty of having one job all your life is more than people usually realize—believe me, I know.
“The LoveSick looks great. You’ve done a terrific job.” It’s hard to change the subject when your friend’s life is all about love—even now that he can’t have it the way he did for centuries. I’m sick of love—I can’t seem to be able to get love, or give love. I’m pathetic.
“I had to do something, I was bored out of my mind. At least this way I can still see my fucking friends, and I also get to see those random, technologically challenged fuckers mingling and falling in love … well, in lust, mostly, but sometimes some of them get their happily ever fucking after. Too bad it’s not thanks to me. They don’t even come back here after they get it. Fucking fuckwads.”
A tall guy with a perfect figure sets a drink in front of me—one of those gigantic cocktails with exotic fruits I can’t even name and a little umbrella on the side of the glass—and smiles at me sweetly before going back to his work.
