Authors: Patricia Pellicane
Tags: #sexual fantasy, #short story erotica, #contemporary erotica, #BDSM erotica
Culver City, CA
Copyright © 2010 by Patricia Pellicane
Editor: Teresa Rozich
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
This book may contain graphic sexual material and/or profanity and is not meant to be read by any person under the age of 18.
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P.O. Box 4897
Culver City, CA 90231-4897
It was dark. Meg Carson sighed and, with a weary step, exited the airport taxi. She hoped Jack was home. She’d left five days ago and was anxious to once again feel the comfort of her own bed. She needed to breathe in the familiar scent of her soft sheets, luxuriate in a hot tub of soothing bath salts. And she wanted to do it all with Jack. With her suitcase and purse in hand, she made her way up the lit walkway to her front door.
Inside, the balcony doors at the back of the house stood open. Gossamer thin drapes billowed in the night’s gentle breeze. Maggie took a moment to breathe its scent, and allow the soothing sounds of a gently rolling ocean to ease her travel stress. Thank God, she and Jack had managed to find this house. The long, sometimes blistering days under the Texas summer sun were easily managed by comfortable breezes off cooler waters. But tonight, like most nights, the two of them needed only an open window to bring them relief from a day’s heat.
She loved it.
“Jack? I’m home,” she called out, only to receive silence as a response.
A quick glance told her the terrace and all the rooms downstairs were empty. She left her bag and purse in the front hallway and made her way upstairs. In her bedroom, at the base of a fresh vase of white Carnations, her favorite flowers, she found a note.
Look in the bath. Enjoy. I’ll be right back.
Jack had a particular liking for moonlight swims, and Meg supposed he was enjoying one at the moment.
She smiled when she entered their bathroom. The tub, easily big enough for two, was surrounded with the soft light of scented candles and filled with steamy water. On its wide rim stood a glass of white wine. The scene was deliciously seductive. It lacked only the principal players. She laughed, dropping her wrinkled skirt and blouse into a basket meant for the dry cleaners, and her under things into the hamper. Meg slid into the warm, silky water and sighed her pleasure. It was beyond luxury. Heat soaked into her achy muscles, softening and relaxing them. She couldn’t imagine anything better, unless it was sharing this luscious moment with Jack.
She leaned back and sipped from the cold, crisp liquid, and waited. Her heart fluttered in anticipation at the sound of the glass door sliding closed. The click of a lock was clear in the silent house.
He was back.
Her body hummed with excitement. She’d been married almost two years and just the thought of the man, and what they would be doing in the next few minutes, had the power to make her cream.
Damn, but she needed to feel his hands on her, his mouth stealing her breath. A pulse throbbed in her throat at the faint sound of footsteps. He was coming into their room.
And then, only silence filled the night.
Where was he? Why hadn’t he come to join her in the tub?
“Jack,” she called out. “Did you have a good swim? The flight home was a horror. I think we hit every available pocket of turbulence.” She frowned when he didn't reply. “What are you doing?” Still there was no response. She invited, “Want to warm up? The water’s still hot.” Nothing.
The lights in the bedroom and hallway went out. She smiled. He was waiting for her.
She left the tub, and with a fluffy towel knotted above her breasts, padded with wet feet to her carpeted bedroom. He stood near the door. Barely a shadow, as silent as the night.
“Jack, don’t try to scare me. You know I hate it.”
She reached for a lamp. “I thought we could have shared the bath. You usually like that.”
“Don’t turn it on. We can share a bath later. I’m not trying to scare you. But I thought we might play a game.”
Meg grinned, knowing what was on his mind. “Did you? What kind of game? Parcheesi? Checkers?”
He laughed. “We left the checkers outside and the board got wet. Remember?”
Meg chuckled. She did. They had played strip checkers. Every time either of them lost a game piece to the other, they had to hand over something they wore with it. It didn’t take long before they were both naked and seconds later, the game forgotten, they moved to one of the lounges. Thankfully, their patio was private. No one could see over the line of trailing flowers and shrubs edging it.
“You already have all the parts needed for the game I’ve got in mind.”
She shook her head, pretending ignorance. “Do I? I’m not sure.”
“I’ll give you a hint. We’ve played it before, and you liked it well enough.”
“You might need to refresh my memory. Did I tell you I liked it?”
He chuckled. “There are times when words are superfluous.”
“Meaning what? A game without words?”
“Turn around,” he said as he moved toward her.
She couldn’t hold back a soft moan of anticipation of the pleasure to come. He pressed her back against his chest and pinned her arms to her sides, pulling her firmly against his cool, damp, naked body.
His breath teased her skin as he whispered menacingly near her ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
She played at trying to free herself of his hold. With her arms still held, she managed a breathless, “Oh please, don’t hurt me.”
“Do what I tell you, and no one gets hurt.”
He drew her backward toward the bed.
She blinked a dozen times trying to see, but the room was too dark. The door to the bath was almost closed, allowing only a sliver of light through the gap. In the mirrors lining the wall behind the bed, their shadowy reflections appeared to struggle, one taller than the other, both with dark hair, but nothing was clear. She couldn’t make out his features. There was no need. She knew well enough his scent, his touch and his low sexy Texan drawl.
She took a deep trembling breath, caught up in her desire for his touch. “My husband will be back in a minute.”
“He won’t be bothering us.”
“You didn’t hurt him, did you? Tell me you didn’t hurt him.”
“Why? You trying to tell me you love the guy?”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything.”
“He’s an ugly bastard. What the hell did you ever see in him?”
The truth of the matter was, Jack was far from ugly, and he knew it. In fact he turned heads wherever he went.
No need to add to his already healthy ego.
She shrugged. “Looks aren’t everything.”
Jack laughed. “You really are a brat.”
He spun her to face him. Her arms finally free, she hit him and heard his startled gasp. He grabbed her arms and her hands were forced behind her. Her heart pounded, stifling her ability to breathe. Every time they did this, she hit him, and when she did, he became just rough enough to drive her wild. He tore the towel away and pushed her back. She fell on the bed. In a second he was upon her, trapping her beneath him.
He was naked, his cock hard and ready, though past experience told her it would be some time yet before she’d feel the pleasure of it deep inside her. She shivered in anticipation. “Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered softly. “Please. Take anything you want, just don’t hurt me.”
“What I want is you.” She moaned softly. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. I’ve seen you swing these huge tits, tempting your man to play with them.” As he spoke, he ran his hands over her breasts.
She shivered and only half-heartedly tried to buck him off.
“And that pretty little cunt, damn, I’ve been waiting forever for a taste of that. Tonight it’s my turn.”
She tried to free her hands, but he held her firmly. On his knees, he dragged her toward the center of the bed. He let go of one hand as he circled the other with a silky bit of yarn and tied it securely to the bedpost. She struggled, fighting the ropes, fighting him. Despite the ecstasy that awaited them, she wouldn’t make this easy for him. For an instant she forgot it was a game. She hit him again, and bucked her hips trying to throw him off. Her efforts were for naught. A moment later her hands were tied securely to the bedposts.
She gasped for every breath, her fogged brain reminding her who he was, what he was to her. The fear disappeared while excitement and arousal grew, burning, teasing her senses, leaving her trembling with need.
Through clenched teeth she gritted a low feral growl, provoking his laughter.
“You’re a tough little piece, all right, but it doesn’t matter how many classes you take. I’ll always be able to fuck you. And tonight I’m going to fuck you until we’re both damn near mindless with pleasure.”
He chuckled at her frustration and ran one hand slowly down the length of her. Then, with agonizingly slow precision, his fingers reversed their course and slid up the length of her legs to tease and taunt, to drive her to the edge of madness. They brushed over her pussy and she trembled while emitting a low groan of yearning. He suddenly left her side and she cursed. “We need to slow up a bit. I want this to last some.” Seconds later, he stood at the door to the bedroom watching her. The light behind him cast his face in shadows. He stood leaning for a moment against the doorjamb, positioned at an angle that allowed just enough light to escape from the side of the doorway. She could see the long lean length of him. Her gaze took in his cock and the longer she looked, the harder, the hungrier it grew. She shivered with the need to feel it inside her and felt her pussy grow helplessly heavy and wet with longing.
He left the door open, allowing light to fall across the bed, illuminating her body. “I like the bath salts you use. Smells like a French whorehouse. Sets a man’s dick a tinglin’.”
“How nice for you,” she said dryly.
A moment later he was at her side with two glasses and the bottle of wine. He sat on the edge of the bed and grinned. He poured the golden liquid into the crystal. “Want a sip?”
She ignored his question. Even as she lay helpless at his side, she managed, “I’m going to kill you for this.”
“You think so? You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I think you’re going to love it so much that the next time I’m in town you’ll beg me to join you in bed.”
“Not likely,” she scoffed. “Besides, it’s hard to beg a dead man to join you in bed, don’t you think?”
He snickered in ridicule. “Like I said, you’re a tough little piece, but I’ll always be stronger.”
“How strong you figure you’ll be, once I put a bullet between your eyes?”
“Aw, honey, this love talk is makin’ me all hot and ready for a go at you.”
She struggled in vain. “Untie me.”
He chuckled. “You sure are a fine lookin’ woman. I like the way your tits wiggle when you try to fight the ties.”
He grinned at her glare. “Are you sure you don’t want any?” he nodded toward the wine glass he held. “This stuff sure is somethin’. Your husband has some mighty fine taste in women and wine.”
She nodded, suddenly still, her gaze narrowing slightly. “I do, but I can’t drink it if I’m tied up, now can I?”
He bit his lip harnessing a laugh. “Now you wouldn’t be thinkin’ to fool this ole cowboy, would ya, baby?”
She blinked, all innocence. “What does that mean?”
“I mean, you actin’ all soft and cozy like. Could be you’re waitin’ for me to relax my guard.”
“I’m not. Truly, I’m not.”
He chuckled again. “Too bad I don’t believe you.” He moved to the top of the bed and lifted her shoulders, and held the glass to her lips.
She took two huge sips. Her struggles had left her parched. Then, the glass was magically gone and her lips were suddenly against his finger and they both moaned as she sucked it into her mouth and ran her tongue over it, around it and gently bit the soft padding at its tip.
“Jesus,” he whispered, sliding to her side. “I have to touch you. My God, I have to.”
She tugged at her ties unable to hold back her moan of longing. “Don’t do this, please,” she begged. “You’re a good looking man. You wouldn’t have a problem finding a woman who would love this.”
He moved to kneel between her legs. “How do you know I’m good looking? You haven’t seen my face.”
The light from the bathroom allowed her to see clearly enough. Still she hesitated. “Your body is…” She wanted to say gorgeous, because he was, but it didn’t fit the scenario.
“Good. I’d imagine your face is equally as good.”“So you think my body is good?”
“I do. I really do.”
“Would you like to touch me?”
“If you untie my hands, I could touch you all you like. All we both like.”
He grinned and then shook his head. “Sounds interestin’. Maybe later.”
She raised her foot to shove him away.
He caught it against his chest, and pressed his mouth to her ankle. “Don’t do it, baby,” his fingers tightened around her ankle, “I wouldn’t want to tie your legs too.”
Meg thought better of the notion. She wouldn’t kick him, not even in play. She didn’t mind having her hands tied, but knew she’d hate it if he tied her legs. “I won’t,” she said, even as he pressed opened mouth kisses along the length of her calf.
His mouth slid slowly up her leg toward her pussy. She couldn’t hold back the deep, needy sounds in her throat. God, he was finally touching her. She trembled. Her body vibrated, desperate with the need to feel his mouth on pussy.
“Don’t, please,” she murmured.
He gave a soft chuckle. “You don’t like this? Is that it?”
“Yes, you’re right.” She could hardly breathe, so frantic was her need for him to continue. “I don’t like it.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen your husband eating this sweet cunt. Out on the balcony, when you thought the beach was empty. I watched him, and you were nearly out of your mind, you liked it so much. Damn, I’m just about dying for a taste myself.”
She shivered as his mouth lowered. She could feel his breath against her moist heat. “I like it that you keep it clean, with only a little line of hair. Jesus, it’s so beautiful. And I’ve waited forever.”
His mouth moved over her skin, his breath, hot and moist, his words muffled against her warmth. He sent shivers of desire racing through her, every sound, every movement, intensifying her pleasure. His tongue slid between the trimmed hair. Penetrating, thick and hot—oh, God, it was lusciously, burning hot. She couldn’t hold back a whimper of pleasure.
“Sounds to me like you favor this a bit.”