What Wendy Wants
Authors: Nikki Sex
What
Wendy Wants
By
Nikki
Sex
Copyright
2013 by Nikki Sex
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United
States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material
or artwork herein is prohibited.
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
To Michelle, my snarky, heavily medicated Goodreads
fan who inspired this story.
The tall man was commanding and demanding. He had that
perfect edge of sexy and rough that could only add to Wendy's erotic thrill.
Fast and unexpected, he grabbed both of Wendy's wrists,
twisting them behind her back and pushing her against the wall. Wendy
struggled, but only for a moment. Taken by surprise, she swallowed nervously.
Lust and anxiety warred for supremacy in her mind.
Oh, God, he smells and feels so good, she thought as
sensation overtook logic.
The man's large body pressed close against her, from his
thighs, his narrow hips and groin, to her breasts. He was big and warm and hard
all over. Evidence of his interest prodded firmly against her stomach. Arms
secured behind her back, Wendy was utterly off balance, and slightly
uncomfortable.
So why the hell, am I so damn turned on?
Her body flared to life in response to his scent, his
strength and his domineering behavior. Wendy's pulse pounded in her ears and
she strained toward him. Wanton and needy, she ached for more.
"You just keep still, now," he ordered in that
low, slow, Kentucky accent.
His deep voice rolled over her flesh while the feel of
his potent male strength made her knees buckle. His heated breath caressed her
skin carrying a sweet bite of Scotch.
Wendy was naked.
The U.S. Marshal was fully dressed in cowboy boots, blue
jeans, a blue button down shirt and tie. Then there was that large wide-brimmed
Stetson hat. His eyes drank her in and his powerful male energy overwhelmed her
- a potent force. She felt vulnerable, yet strangely powerful, too. This strong
dominant man wanted her.
God damn he looked fine.
He transferred her captured wrists that were behind her
back into his left hand, then pulled his right hand out and flung off his hat.
It landed on the hotel bed. His attention moved to her lips, a flare of lust in
his eyes. Putting his face against her neck, the Marshal inhaled deeply. Then h
e nuzzled and kissed her exposed throat.
The whiskers of his 5
o'clock shadow brushed against her, trailing heated fire.
"You smell so good… I might just eat you right up,"
he drawled, pressing one denim clad thigh in between her legs. That hard male
leg rocked against her, rubbing her tender cleft.
Wendy moaned as she struggled to absorb the spike of
pleasure that rolled through her. It was just as well that the Marshall had a
good hold of her because otherwise she would have sunk right to the floor at
that point. She felt boneless after that seductive touch.
Melting, Wendy surrendered completely.
There was no need for choice or decision. This man had all
the power and control, while she had none. Why did that send a joyous thrill of
happiness through her? Captured, constrained, all Wendy could do was feel.
Surrendering completely, a delicious sensation of freedom
moved her.
Hand cupping her jaw, he pulled her face toward him. He
held Wendy there for a moment, his shrewd brown eyes looking right through her.
What did he see, looking at her so intimately? Did he have any idea just how
much he turned her on? How much she wanted him?
"Spread your legs," he bit out the command, his
voice harsh with lust.
Wendy complied instantly. The Marshal
cupped and squeezed her ass, pulling her into him. H
e moved in between
her thighs, notching his big cock against her sex and pressing hip to hip. The
man radiated heat. Tilting his pelvis, he pushed against her most sensitive
flesh. His buttocks clenched as he rocked just slightly. This seductive tease
ratcheted her arousal, creating a warm pulse below the waist.
"Oh, God," she whispered, mesmerized. The only
sound in the silence of the room was her whimpers and heavy breathing.
The Marshal leaned forward that last small distance. The
hand that cupped her jaw moved to her hair, his fingers running through it and
then winding tight. Tension pulled her scalp as he bowed her head to the side.
It only added to her overload of sensual pleasure.
With Wendy firmly possessed and in the exact position he
wanted her, the Marshal's soft lips closed on hers.
Wendy gave a strangled moan from somewhere deep in the
back of her throat. Wired, wet and totally aroused, she opened her mouth,
accepting and welcoming that kiss. His large frame held her fast against the
wall, the hard male thickness of his denim clad cock stroking the sensitive
lips of her sex.
With his sensuous lips against her, he never loosened
control. As much as she willingly stretched toward him, this was his kiss,
exactly as he wanted it. His lips were soft and firm – creating a hungry spike
of heated desire.
Wendy yielded completely as his tongue slipped into her
mouth. With determined intent he explored her from the inside. Wendy's tongue
found his, and she cried out with the euphoric joy of it. As he p
lundered her mouth, s
he joined in as they licked and sucked
each other.
The feel of his long, lean body against her, the smell of
him, the way he
thrust against her cleft
and his
possessive kiss was all too much. This was carnal overload. She was captured,
unable to move… and she wanted to move. Wendy struggled, seeking shamelessly to
thrust and hump against him. He had claimed her, dominating her in a way that
made her want to give him everything she had.
So many sensations! They all combined to send her right
to the edge.
As his kisses delved deeper they also grew rougher.
Pulling her head to the side by the hair, he began to suck and bite the
sensitive skin of her neck. Wendy gasped, her breathing ragged. His every touch
sent echoes of pleasure to every intimate area of her body. It wouldn’t take
much to climax.
"Oh, God, please!" she moaned with fierce
lust.
His hand moved down to caress the underside of one
breast, and then his palm smoothed over it, cupping her fully. Her pussy
tightened. Frissons of awareness sparked through her heated flesh. Her erect
nipples begged for more as he
rolled and tugged. Wendy moaned,
straining toward him.
She was aching with desire.
"Please, please!" she gasped.
He gazed at her with hard eyes, his lips
firm as he ran his hand lower, across her stomach and toward her sex.
"What do you want?" he asked in a rough voice, his body taut with
desire.
Wendy was so turned on that she knew
that she would orgasm with barely a caress, as long as it was lower.
"Please," she pleaded. "I need more. Touch me."
"Say my name," he ordered
firmly. "Say my name and I'll give you what you crave."
Breathless, she said, "Raylan.
Raylan Givens!"
"Yes," he said lowering his rough fingers down
to touch her clit. "I want to feel you come."
BUZZ - BUZZ - BUZZ - BUZZ
Holy shit!
Wendy's alarm rang at 7:30am Wednesday morning, just at
the best part of her erotic dream.
Damn, it had been so real. Why couldn't that alarm have
buzzed a couple of minutes later? So close yet so far away!
Wendy had been watching the television drama,
Justified
last night, and for the love of God, that actor Timothy Olyphant was seriously
hot. Was it any wonder he carried over into her dreams?
"You okay, honey?" her husband Frank said, resting
a comforting hand on her back and shoulder, further shocking her back to
reality.
Wendy rolled over and looked at her husband. His soft
brown eyes reflected his concern. Frank was a tall man, about 6'2", brown-haired,
and ruggedly handsome. He was almost forty years old, and like most men, the
aging process only made him more attractive.
Frank was big and strong and Wendy loved him dearly.
Their sex life had been passionate and perfect when they first married. At one
time just the thought of him made her wet. So why they hell was it that he just
didn't do it for her anymore?
She cleared her throat. "Er…why do you ask?"
"You were talking in your sleep and kind of moaning."
Wendy felt her cheeks heat. "What did I say?"
"Nothing I could understand. What were you dreaming?"
"I don't remember," she lied, relieved.
Whew!
Wendy thought
, close
call.
She would have been embarrassed to have to explain. How could she
tell him? Lots of things turned her on, but unfortunately her husband didn't.
Not anymore.
Wednesday morning Frank Hayward was running late for
work. As a consequence when he picked up his Kindle in a rush and threw it into
his briefcase, he had no idea that
the Kindle he had
grabbed belonged to his wife, Wendy.
Unknown to Frank, his wife liked reading romance.
Not just romance,
erotic
romance.
Well actually, smut.
Sexy, dirty, kinky, delicious, and utterly sexually arousing,
smut.
It was the kind of smut that would make anyone totally rethink
their sex life. A steamy type of book that would make a woman wonder:
Just how
many orgasms can I have before I pass out from sexual overload?
Wendy was right in the middle of a steaming hot story
that made her want to discover that exact number for herself.
How much in life depends on tiny, little day-to-day
choices? Or in Frank's case, not even a choice? On an error? On one careless
oversight, a tiny goof that every human being is capable of?
Neither Wendy nor Frank had any idea of the consequences of
that one little mistake.
~~~
"MOM! WHERE ARE YOU?" her little dude, Jeff,
the youngest, screamed.
Wendy sighed. For a six year old-he had a mighty set of
lungs. She could hear his screeching voice from all the way downstairs, even when
she was in an upstairs bathroom.
The sound of little pounding feet vibrated up the stairs
and down the hall, and then a voice through the door. "Are you in
there?"
"Yes, you little monster," Wendy growled while
sitting on the toilet with her Kindle in one hand. Wendy had hoped to have a
tiny bit of peace, and maybe even read some of that juicy erotica that she had
gotten half way through. The bathroom was the safest place… usually.
"What are you doing?" Jeff said in a curious
and slightly plaintive whine.
"I came in here to have a nap and then maybe play
some piano," she said wryly. "But now, since I'm here, I thought I
may as well go to the bathroom."
There was a couple of long heavy beats of silence as Jeff
processed her snarky sarcasm.
"No you're not," Jeff said." You're hiding
in there reading again, aren't you?"
Crap!
Wendy thought, realizing
that she hadn't even gotten as far as turning her Kindle on.
Busted! That
kid is too damn smart for his own good.
"Go away, Jeff," she said. "I'll be out in
a second."
Wendy put her Kindle down with a sigh, got up, flushed
and began to wash her hands.
She looked in the mirror. Hazel eyes, shoulder length
brown hair. Nice figure, a few extra pounds, but no big. Well, maybe more than
a few extra pounds. Unless it was wishful thinking, those boobs of hers had
gotten bigger after having children. It was one advantage of motherhood.
After three kids I still look good,
she thought.
But I'm only thirty-eight after all.
Wendy's Kindle rested on the counter, beckoning her
enticingly.
"I'll get back to you later," she told it, and
decided to leave it where it was.
The erotic romance she had read a few days ago had been incomprehensible
in some parts. It was a sexy BDSM story, but it had a lot of humiliation in it.
Women crawling on all fours on the floor, wearing collars with leashes, and
acting like furniture so that men could use them as objects.
Wendy couldn't understand that aspect of dominance and
submission.
What in the hell could be the attraction to that? Particularly
when humiliation was nothing new for her! Wendy got on all fours all the time
trying to pick up junk under the couch or the dining table. Objectified daily, she
often stood like a human coat rack, offering clothes and lunch boxes while
getting the kids out the door for school. And as for a collar! Wendy had prescription
reading glasses since year eight. She had lost them so many times that she
often had them on a string around her neck.
Collared indeed.
Besides, she was a mom with twin teenage boys and a six
year old. It was
their
duty to regularly mortify her and make her feel
like an idiot. She didn’t need to read about humiliation in a book when she
experienced it on a daily basis.
Yet those other aspects of BDSM - the spankings and
bondage, not to mention fantastic multiple orgasms….well. That was a different
matter. Wendy
really
wanted to try all that. Who knew what might happen?
Maybe her love life would reach a whole new level. God knows, the level it was
at now was an all time low.
The truth was she had become seriously bored with sex.
She could climax more easily alone and with her vibrator than she could with
Frank.
Wendy had recently read an article by Daniel Bergner in
the New York Times. He asserted that it is
women
and
not men
who
get bored with monogamy. It said that women are far more likely to lose
interest in sex with their partners. It seemed that spouse-weary women often simply
avoid making love altogether, and that they needed novelty to get them in the
mood.
Now how could she explain all that to Frank?
Looking at herself in the mirror again, Wendy struck a sexy
pose. Then her brows furrowed and she sighed.
As much as Wendy adored her husband Frank, she had fallen
in love with and married Mr. Vanilla. He'd only been with three women in his
life – and she had been one of them. Frank
could be
inventive, but he hadn't
been for some time. He also traveled out of town for work quite often, which
didn't help.
My Kindle and my battery operated boyfriend are my best
friends.
True, a large part of it was her fault. She just couldn’t
figure out how to broach the subject more than she had. Hints had gone straight
over Frank's head. It was embarrassing. On the subject of sex, her husband was
so
slow.
For a high IQ, successful forensic accountant with astute attention
to detail, he sure was missing her cues.
She remembered her latest attempt to spice things up in
bed: "Honey, sometimes I think that you should pretend I'm your sex toy,
like a little game. Wouldn’t that be fun?"
"Hum? Oh. Of course," he had said, hopping on
top of her missionary style. "You know I love you, and sex is the best
game in town."
At the time Wendy thought she could almost hear a whoosh
of wind as her latest hint flew right over his head.
Of course that rush of air could have been just her own
disappointed sigh.
Raising her eyebrows up and down in the mirror, Wendy
smirked. No, she would just have to be bluntly truthful. Toughen up and be more
frank
to poor Frank. How would that conversation go? Wendy could just
imagine it.
How about, "Frank, can you grab my hands, hold them
above my head, and then slam me against a wall and fuck me hard?"
Frank was so big and so strong – he could really take
control if he wanted to. Wendy frowned. As much as she would like to say that
to him, she just couldn't.
"Honey, er…are your palms twitching?" she said
out loud to herself in the mirror. Her lips curled up into a big ironic half smile.
Frank would so
never
get that.
She bit her lower lip and thought it over. Maybe
something like: "Sweetheart, can you spank me? I've always wanted to know
what that feels like - it seems kind of sexy. It may be fun to be bossed around
a bit in bed, or tied up, too. Can you go all alpha male and exert your will
over me? Make me submit to your sexual pleasure?"
Just how would Frank react to any of that? Would he
get
it
then?
Just once Wendy wished she had the nerve to
really
tell him what she wanted. Until then she would go along with the status quo. Wendy
did love him. They got on so well, why couldn't she just be happy with that? She
didn't want to jeopardize the good relationship that they did have.
At least I have my Kindle,
she
thought.
And my vibrator!
