A minute later, we broke apart and we were all breath and fluttering fingertips on sweaty skin.
I hummed and said, “It was, Sir. It doesn’t get more scorching, lengthy or beautiful than that.”
He seized a clump of my hair, turned toward me and planted a slow, sexy kiss on my cheek. “No, probably not. I love you, pretty Princess.”
I kissed him back, but I went for his gorgeous lips. “I love you, Sir. So much. Trust me. It blew all of my fantasies and ideas about my first time of the water. Thank you for claiming all of my fuckable holes for your pleasure.”
“You are most welcome. Pleasure indeed.”
“Man, you don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to ride a guy like that. You’d be shocked. I’m so bad.”
“I know you’re bad.”
“No, I’m bad, bad. When I was nine, I was playing outside, long after sunset. It was late, maybe 10:30 or so, I don’t know, I lost track of time. It was a gorgeous fall night, with the scent of fallen leaves tickling my nose. I love that kind of air and temp, when it’s balmy and cool at the same time, especially with that scent to go along with it. It’s so welcoming and fresh, with its whispers of winter around the corner.”
“I know what you mean. You described it perfectly. I love nights like that too. It’s the very first Christmas present.”
“Yes! Exactly. You know!” I beamed that he considered it the same thing and left a quick kiss on his cheek. “Anyway, I was creating this big gathering of rock people, a family reunion. I painted on faces and clothes and made a fancy tent out of trash bags and a lagoon pool out of a kidney bean bowl. I put together a playlist, had my radio ready to go. As I was stringing up Christmas lights, the dainty, white ones, I heard this squeaking. It was constant and rhythmic. The mystery of it formed a lump in my throat. Sweat started to bead on my forehead, and my mouth went dry. My first thought was killer. I remember my chest hurting and eyes burning with tears. If a killer were to spring out and slay me, I wondered how many days it would take my parents to notice. I guessed four.”
“Four? That’s crazy!”
“Nah, four was probably accurate, unfortunately. My nanny, Kara, was not a live-in, she left every day at 6. She would’ve noticed in the morning, no doubt, if it had been any other time, but she happened to be on a two-week vacation. So, four seemed about right. At that jab of truth, I stood there in utter sadness and stark terror, shaking, peering around, trying to determine the source of the pulsing squeak. Nothing leapt out of the bushes. It seemed to be coming from the right, past my property line. With my curiosity perked, I cautiously followed the noise into the neighbors’ backyard. It was coming from the house, and I gasped when I peered in a window. The lights were on, and the blinds were down but swiveled open at a slant. They may as well have been open, and I saw them in bed together. Their window was open, so I could hear every sound clearly. The squeaking stopped, three seconds after I got there. Naked Mr. Verlander launched off the bed and sat down in a straight-backed chair, then spun his giggling wife around so she was facing away from him. I’d never seen a naked dude before. He was not hot in face or body, but still mesmerizing to me anyway. She took him in hand and sank down on the whole thing, her legs spread apart over his thighs. He smacked the front of her bits, but she was so hairy, it probably cushioned the blow. She laughed at the slap. He scowled. In the moment, I thought that was a very weird reaction. I understood later. Then, she started bouncing. Oh my lord. Her boobs looked like bobbing melons as she slid up and down and bounced on that hunk of meat.”
“Ah, my little peeper. Even at nine, you probably got so hot and wet.”
“Oh, I did. I loved watching that hard stick disappear inside her, again and again and again. He was very well-endowed, at least twelve inches, it looked to my eyes. They looked and sounded so juicy sliding together. Hands on her waist, he jerked her down to go faster and harder. My core was clenching and my panties got damp.”
“No doubt.”
“I slid my hand over my crotch and squeezed. I should’ve run home. But I didn’t. I stayed. I kept watching the live, X-rated show, as she bounced and bounced and screamed. When they were both good and sweaty, he stayed in her but shoved her to the floor onto her knees and strove to finish her off from behind in a buck-wild fuck. Buzzy like a sparkler, I unzipped my jean shorts and tucked my fingers in. I started rubbing my button because it screamed for that. I had mashed and rolled on armrests and pillows, but this was a loud call for skin-to-skin contact. I obeyed. It was the first time I actually touched it directly for gratification. I was sticky wet. I dipped into my well to get more slickness on my fingertips, and that’s when I discovered that going inside felt good too. I embedded one, then two, then all my fingers and thumbed my clit furiously with a rocking motion.”
“My god, Addison. You do know you’re driving me wild with this story, right? Hot. Damn.”
“I’m sure, but I’m trying to tell you how I got so bad and lusty. She came hard, squealing like a piglet that got stepped on, repeatedly. It wasn’t a sexy sound exactly, but it was so unrestrained and guttural, it made me drip more. Still in his kneel, Mr. V. yanked her head up with a tight clasp on her hair, and he thrust up hard. He grunted and his lips formed a rectangle around his clenched teeth. Her sweaty hair was everywhere and plastered down in places, but her face, oh, her face was pure ecstasy, full of absolute joy. I was still rubbing my clit, and when she was forcibly straightened up like that, looking like a disaster, yet blaring of satiation, I came so hard too, I swear I waved around my buried digits a hundred times. Her moans and hard breaths were sweet, sweet music to me. I forgot all about my rock party. I ran back to my room, stayed up most of the night and masturbated three more times, bringing myself to climax each time. That was the first time I spied. Within the coming weeks, I saw them fuck in their heated pool, and right at the edge of it, in the hot tub, in the car, in different rooms of their house. I was obsessed with this couple. I didn’t watch TV or play with friends. I didn’t care if I missed baths or wore mismatched clothes. I ate, slept, hid and spied. But, after a while, I started itching for them to do something more, but I wasn’t sure what. I didn’t know. I couldn’t pinpoint it. I just wanted to see more. Here I was watching live sex as a kid, and it wasn’t enough. They did do a little oral exchange, which was shocking and gross to me at the time, but I wanted them to get wilder or rougher or something. I did like watching them strip and dig into each other’s clothes and all the foreplay, but even that was starting to bore me. The occasional spanking would’ve been hot. I can’t even say for sure how young I was when spanking started turning me on. Three or four at most. I’d squeeze my legs together if I saw a parent sternly warn their kid of what they’d be getting at home.”
“Oh, me too. My nuts were always achy and blue. I wasn’t quite that young. Maybe eight or nine. But I loved even hints of it like that. When I was older, I use to surf the web for all the spanking clips or stories I could find.”
“Ooo, how delightful, Logan. I love hearing about your spanko lust.”
“As much as I loved it, I did not like getting strapped myself, not the way my father did it, up until I was fifteen. Fifteen! Did the Verlanders ever spank?”
“Nope. But I don’t even think spankings or more oral would’ve been enough for poor Mr. Verlander. His face, no matter how many times he came in front of me, never ever matched hers. I knew he was missing something huge. I could tangibly feel his frustration and entrapment. Though they got busy a lot because she was an easy lay and ready at the drop of a hat, he was clearly miserable. She’d crow and tell him to stop if he crossed certain lines. Like, she stopped sex cold once when he stuck a finger up her butt. I knew at nine that I didn’t want to end up with his face, and that the only way for me to get hers would be to chase after what I really wanted. And what I really wanted was the thing I could tell he ached to give, that something more that unleashed animalistic energy. I used to be like, “What the heck is your proble
m, lady? Bend over and spread those cheeks apart for his stupid finger. He should make you do it. Make you. With words alone. And spank you if you don’t.” I craved to have a guy who’d be real with me and not clamp his desires like that, and I knew with all my might, I wanted to be under said guy’s boot or across his lap. For some screwed up reason, I knew that that’s where my wholeness was. I knew so early on, that in submission—though I didn’t know that word then—I’d thrive and come alive with bright colors and stop being a nothing. I knew I’d finally be cherished and adored.” Sobs creaked out, and I covered my face and clenched my lips shut. “I was so tired of being a nothing.”
“You are not ‘a nothing’. And I’m so sorry you’ve felt like that.” He stroked my hair and planted sweet kisses on my face. “With or without submission, you are important, Addison. You matter. In three jam-packed days, you’ve become my everything. You’re my girlfriend, my lover, my princess, my friend … and my wonderful, glorious sub.”
“I know. You make me feel like I matter, Logan, like I’m real and tangible and appreciated. You give me wings and breath and roar up my flames of desire and might. I used to feel so crazy and messed up for craving spankings and roughness and the edgy world of BDSM, and I used to feel intense shame for my strong desire to bow and bend to a male with Western society telling me that it’s all wrong to want that. But I don’t feel like that fuck-up, twisted little freak anymore. I finally, finally feel like me, and like I can be me without being judged or despised. I have confidence in my submission. It is so empowering to own my sexuality and dive into it.”
“You are definitely not despised or judged, not in this bed, or these arms. I’m sorry, baby, but your parents suck. Maybe more than mine. I hate how they crushed my pretty angel and made her feel worthless.” He sighed and pulled my into a tighter hold. His fingers fluttered along my hot skin. “You’re not. I love you so much. You’re so good and kind-hearted and bold and precious. You fight hard to win at whatever you desire and push yourself hard, so you can leave others in your clouds of dust and laughter. I admire your guts and spunk and determination. I love your sweet, eager-to-please soul, and those eyes, so beseeching of praise and often, filled with the yummiest, dirtiest lust.”
“Thank you for saying that. But I’m not that good. I was so bad for spying like that.”
“Yes, you were a bad girl for watching, but I’m not upset or surprised you stayed. I sure would have. At least it helped you become self-aware. Did you end up with her face, Luscious?”
“Yes, I most certainly did. And not just now. I’ve had it since you first spanked me. I’m so, so happy with you, Logan. I’m in a bliss I doubted I’d ever find.”
“Mmm, me too. I feel the exact same way.”
“If you’ve daydreamed and longed to spank a girl, Logan, then how on earth did you wait so long? And why did you wait? You’ve had sex already, but not that? Not until Halloween. Wouldn’t that be at the top of your bucket list or whatever?”
“It was at the top of my list, yes. But I wanted it to be special. And I’ll try to explain what I mean. When I was a young teen, I often fantasized about getting laid in a car, right? I had the license and the car, I just needed the girl. So when I got a girlfriend at the end of sophomore year, I planned to lose it that way. The thought of it drove me insane, and I set out to make it happen. I scoped around and found a good place at the lake to park beforehand, and I had her wear a skirt. I packed us some stolen wine and chocolate-covered strawberries in a picnic basket and stuck condoms—the whole box!—into my glove compartment, along with special lube I bought because the commercials said ladies get more zing. I wanted the extra boost for her pleasure, in case I was less than great. With the zing juice playing wingman, maybe she wouldn’t even know I bombed.”
I cracked up so hard my gut hurt and tears streamed down my face. “Zing juice playing wingman! Haha. You are so cute, Logan.” I wiped my cheeks.
“Lame is more like it. I even had battery-op candles under the seat. But, not until I was smack in the middle of the moment did I realize, it was not the car sex I wanted; it was the urgency, the feeling of being out somewhere and literally not able to make it home because you just have to do it. You know, you just exchange a look that screams I have to have you now. So you pull over, wherever the hell it is, tear off each other’s clothes and go at in the car because you’re in such a frenzy to fuck. I wanted that. Like that feeling we had when we were wrestling around. All this time, I thought it was the car part that excited me, and it wasn’t. I wasn’t aroused in the slightest. I couldn’t get up to save my life and pretended a sexy makeout session was my plan all along. I fingered her ’til she came, also something I’d always fantasized about, but I only felt frustration, disappointment and anger that I misread and bombed my own fantasy. That’s all that happened. She never knew about the condoms or the zing juice or even the wine. Car sex was one of my lower-rung fantasies. Spanking, on the other hand, that just sings to my soul. I wanted to get it right. Over time, I broke down and dissected exactly what I wanted, and discovered, it wasn’t just to spread on some pink. I wanted a reason to spank, something on-the-spot, almost a spanking romance scenario, where I’d spank a girl because she’s truly naughty and deserving of it. And I wanted to scold her and spank her until she was red hot and sobbing her eyes out. But that’s fiction. In reality, that’ll get you slapped or sued. As much as I ached to deliver such a thing, I knew it would likely never happen. And then … and then … aahhh, you showed up.” He looked me in the eye with a barbaric gaze that made my stomach drop.
“But … you didn’t even know me, and yet, you came downstairs prepared to spank me specifically. Wouldn’t you want to give it someone you cared about? How did I end up being that special?”
“You deserved it. That’s all the special you needed. When my dad called, I asked if you had dark red hair. When he said yes, it sparked my hope that it was you. And it was you, on my couch, the naughty, dirt-kicking kitten from the Quad. Oh my gosh, the heartbreak and upset on your devil face when I made you think a spanking was not what I meant totally did me in. You looked so shattered, like I just killed your dog or something, and then you flared up to red when you realized how full of irritation you sounded. I was just kind of egging you on, no pun intended, seeing what you’d say and how you’d react to my notion of spank, but I knew for sure in that moment, little subbie, that you wanted to get it as much as I wanted to give it. No way was I about to let you go home with white cheeks. You were my perfect in, my fantasy spank.
“And, ah, you were special indeed, the perfect spankee, in every way. The audience only made it sweeter, and your wobbling hips, and the air seeping through your teeth, not because I was giving you too much pain and heat, but not enough. You wanted real punishment, a real, hard, dirty, rough spanking. Perfect, absolutely perfect. I got to lay into your ass and make you cry. I was so glad I waited for that. Everything about it was better than what I’d ever dreamed because of where you brought me with your reactions and your simmering lust. It doesn’t get better than that. It just doesn’t. When you fell on my thighs, I whooshed to Heaven, but I had no idea how horny you’d get. God, Addison. Those moans and that wet, wet…uhhh. I was so ready to burst when I brought you into the gallery and glided up your skirt and into your slit. I was a breath away from hurling you over my shoulder and rushing you up to my bed so I could really make you scream. As fun as that would have been, surely, I’m glad I didn’t. Because then I got to see you shine like a diamond through the hard cuts of suffering and humiliation. It was the most beautiful sight ever. You, lying panty-free on your back, holding yourself open for nasty gazes and untold pain, just because I said so.”
“I made you my Dom right then. That secured you.”
“And I made you my sub. You were mine, mine. You are mine. I tried to deny it and suppress it and ignore it. But I couldn’t. I’m still not sure I’m the best Dom for you, but I had to have you for myself.”
&nb
sp; “You are the best for me. I’m so glad you changed your mind.”
“You changed it. With your bad girl ways that are always begging for spanks and domination.”
After we laid there silently for several minutes stroking each other, he said, “My arms are itching to fly. Are you ready, Babydoll?”
“More than ever, Sir.”
“Good. Scene on. Get up.”
CHAPTER 3
My pussy was still buzzing at those five glorious words he said upstairs as he took hold of my hand in the living room of the carriage house. The lights were back off, and shadows groped one another on the walls and floor from the waves of candlelight.
Electricity shot up my arm with a fizz and tingle each time he made a complete circle on my palm with his thumb. We danced light, fluttering fingers together just before he pulled my hand up above my head and secured my wrist into a leather cuff that he’d latched to a hook in the wall. I shivered as I watched him buckle it up. This felt like edgier bondage than anything we’d previously used and my cunt responded with moisture.
“I don’t want to slice up your wrists or make it too tight. How’s that?”
“Fine. Perfect, Sir.”
“Grab the peg next to it, fingers curling around the top and thumb tucking under.”
As he asked, I took hold of the 6” peg sticking out of the wall near the hook. It looked to be for coats. No, it was for me. Such a benign-looking thing was really a contraption for kink.
He did the same with the other hand, securing me upright into a Y. He ran a tickly stroke down my back, eliciting a chill. “I’m not going to be binding your feet, Princess. I want your legs spread and that ass out. Push your pelvis away from the wall a bit.”
My legs trembled as I obeyed his command. I felt a draft when he walked away from me. “Yes, Sir. The crop was almost too much to take. Please don’t hurt me too much. Please.”
Red Hot Obsessions: Ten Contemporary Hot Alpha Male Romance Novels Boxed Set Page 230