It'll Be Fun

by Tymber Dalton

  “Aw. Sorry, buddy.”

  He made fish lips at her. “I can still take care of you.”

  “Uh, one ER trip in a day is enough, thank you.”

  “No.” He shifted his hips. “You can ride me.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and then licked his lips.

  “You sure?”

  “Oooh, baby, am I.”

  She stripped off her T-shirt and straddled his head. He grabbed her ass and pulled her down where he wanted her, and when his lips touched her clit her eyes dropped closed.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  No, she didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty. Sometimes, what her sweet barbarian needed was this kind of domination, not the hard-ass Domme to beat his ass.

  He already had the pain.

  Now, he needed the pleasure.

  She braced one hand on the headboard and with the other reached down to stroke his hair. “That’s it, baby,” she softly said. “You always take care of me so good.”

  His talented tongue swirled around her clit, knowing exactly where and how to flick and stroke, just how much to suck, every perfect motion.

  This was them at their best.

  Over thirty years married had taught them both little shortcuts about each other’s bodies. She knew exactly how to get him over fast if she needed to, or how to drag it out and leave him panting and begging for as long as she wanted to keep him hovering on that edge.

  Likewise, Rusty had that same power with her.

  She loved it, and him.

  She rode his face, knowing he needed this time as much as she was enjoying it. He wasn’t truly happy unless he was serving her, the knight and his Lady, a dynamic that fulfilled him and made him happy.

  The way they’d been ever since they were kids and first met and she learned his dark secrets that fueled the way he was.

  When she felt her climb start, he knew it, too, because his hands grabbed her and held on, keeping her in place and preventing her from wiggling free.

  Her eager barbarian loved having her come all over him like this, and he wasn’t satisfied until he’d drawn every last ounce of pleasure out of her.

  * * * *

  The pain in Rusty’s foot faded to nothing with his focus on eating out Eliza. He could—and had, in the past—do this for hours. As long as she’d tolerate him doing it. Once she started coming, he focused on her clit, on keeping her climax going as long as possible, listening to her moans to guess where she was. Sometimes she’d let him keep going until she couldn’t handle the intensity any longer, and sometimes she was done after only a little bit.

  Tonight she let him keep her going, easing up and then pulling her cunt tight against his mouth again, over and over, until the fingers in his hair turned into patting the top of his head to get him to let go of her, and he did.

  She slumped onto the bed, resting her head against his chest as she caught her breath.

  “Better, baby?” he asked.

  She laughed and finally sat up to look at him. “You’re the one with the gimpy foot, and you’re asking me if I’m better?”

  He shrugged. “You put up with a lot with me. I know that.”

  She rolled her eyes but straddled him, his cock effortlessly gliding along her pussy where she was wet from her juices and his mouth. “And what do you want now, hmm?”

  He felt the subspace hit him. “Anything Ma’am wants to give me,” he softly said, shivering under her touch.

  She teased him, rising up with just the head of his cock pressing against the entrance to her pussy. “Is this what the barbarian wants?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Please?”

  “Hmm. You were a good boy for me just now.”

  His hands settled on her thighs. “Please, Ma’am?”

  She dropped onto him, making him groan as he struggled to hold back and not shoot too soon. He wanted to savor this for a few minutes, at least.

  She slowly rode him, hips rolling in a sexy grind he knew in his dreams and felt like he’d never not known. “You want it?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, please, Ma’am.”

  Like this she knew him, too, but tonight she took pity on him and didn’t make him beg too much. She rode him, building him up and finally letting him tip over, staying with him until she knew he’d finished and he pulled her in for a long, sweet kiss.

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” he whispered, sleep already tugging at him again despite his long nap.

  She snuggled next to him. “You’re very welcome, barbarian. Let’s try to make it through the rest of this weekend with no more ER trips.”

  “Amen to that, Ma’am.”

  Chapter Ten

  June fought the irritating mix of relief, fear, and frustration rolling through her as she sat in the ER cube with Maren and waited for discharge papers.

  Relief? Thank goodness Maren and Sonya weren’t seriously injured. There would likely be chiropractic sessions in their future, and she was seriously considering paying Nate to come up one evening to work on both of them at their apartment to help with the pain they would no doubt have.

  Fear, that her babies could have died, both of them, at the same time, without a chance to tell them one more time that she loved them.

  An old, ancient fear she’d never be able to rid herself of, because of the way she’d lost July. It was a fear that nearly crippled her when it came to her loved ones.

  And frustration that her daughters were once again living on their own and still managing to cock-block her and Mark. Not just cock-block, but rope-block. They didn’t have to teach or present at the club tonight, they were supposed to volunteer, but he’d planned to do a suspension scene with her later in the evening, before closing time, when they’d be the least busy.

  So much for that plan. Scrye the rigger would have to stay in his box tonight while Mark the husband and dad took care of business up here.

  She’d reeeeeally wanted a scene to help clear her mind. Hell, she’d needed it.

  Now, she needed one more than ever.

  Mark was sitting with Sonya in her cube right next door. No doubt by the time they finally returned home, it’d be after midnight, and the last thing he’d be in the mood for would be play or sex.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Maren said for about the umpteenth time that evening.

  June stood and walked over to her. “Honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. Please stop apologizing.” She smoothed her daughter’s hair away from her neck. Both girls would be wearing cervical collars for a few days, at least. “Dad and I are just relieved you’re both okay. Stop apologizing.”

  And they’d be driving back up here several times over the next few days. Or, June would, while Mark had to work. Because June knew damn well the girls would barely be able to walk tomorrow, much less drive themselves anywhere. If their apartment was bigger, June would pack a bag and stay with them.

  I guess I get a new car out of the deal.

  That was a bonus. Not that this was how she’d wanted to get one.

  Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

  No, that wasn’t fair, either. She loved her daughters, would kill—literally—for them if need be.

  Would die to protect them.

  Still, it’d be nice if she could finally reach a point she didn’t have to panic over them.

  Or, maybe she’d never reach that point.

  A nurse returned to the cube. “Mrs. Jarette? We have your daughters’ discharge papers. I’ve already given Sonya hers.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  June paid attention while the nurse went over the paperwork with her. She’d definitely be up here again on Monday, to take the girls to a doctor. The little asshole who’d run into them was also here in the hospital, but Mark the Master had stepped in and not only made sure June wasn’t carrying before they left the house, he’d ordered her not to figure out where the kid was so she could give him a piece of her mind.

  The seventeen-year-old was apparently lucky he hadn
’t been killed, because of course he hadn’t been wearing his seatbelt, either. He’d received serious injuries, including head and facial lacerations where he’d hit the windshield, but somehow hadn’t flown all the way through it.

  His parents had insurance on the practically new Mustang he’d been driving, though, so another of Mark’s calls tomorrow would be to Ed, since they were friends, to ask him about starting the lawsuit immediately.

  Hopefully the girls wouldn’t have serious lasting injuries from the accident. June knew from her years coaching and participating in gymnastics that injuries which looked superficial at the start could have long-lasting consequences.

  They helped the girls load into June’s car for the drive back to their apartment while Mark drove his truck and took their prescriptions to a drugstore to get them filled, and to get them some groceries. Because that’s where the girls had been heading—grocery shopping.

  At least their apartment was clean. She’d taught them well in that respect. Perfect? No, but their apartment didn’t need to be. They didn’t have the time she did to devote to housekeeping. They were both in school. That it was as clean and tidy as it was honestly surprised June.

  “At least we got this place clean this morning,” Sonya griped as they walked in. “If I’d known this was going to happen, we would’ve done more.”

  “Yeah,” Maren agreed. She slowly sank to the couch with a pained grunt. “This freaking suuuucks.”

  “Hey, you guys are alive,” June said. “We’ll sue that little asshole and his parents for as much as we can, Maren can have my car, so you two aren’t out transportation, and whatever we get from the lawsuit that isn’t paid out in doctor bills, we can use that to upgrade Sonya’s car, or put it into a savings account for both of you for a rainy-day fund.”

  The girls looked at each other. “Savings account,” they both said at the same time, then laughed, which made June laugh—finally.

  Her smart girls. Their father had instilled financial skills in them at an early age. One of the benefits of being the daughters of a CPA.

  June went through the kitchen, checked the fridge, emptied the clean dishes from their dishwasher and loaded what was in the sink in there, and then cleaned their bathroom for them by the time Mark had made it there and started bringing in groceries. She walked outside to help him.

  “So much for ropey fun,” she whispered to him.

  He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Maybe we can still have a little fun when we get home tonight. Daddy will try to save his sweet little slut some energy.”

  She shivered in good ways despite the heat and looked up into his green eyes to see him smiling down at her. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered back.

  He kissed her, this one full of heat and desire, and had the girls seen it they would have been making the obnoxious gagging and ew noises they always did. “Hey, Daddy’s little slut needs to earn her brand new car, you know.”

  June felt her clit throb in her jeans and bit down on her lower lip to hold back her throaty moan. She wanted to climb him and hump him right there in the apartment complex’s parking lot. “Yes, Daddy,” she said, earning herself a smile from her big bear of a man.

  “And when we go car shopping,” he said, keeping his voice low, “I’m going with you, because I want to make sure it’s comfortable enough for me to fuck you in.”

  Okay, now she was squirming and fighting the urge not to rub her thighs together. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  He dropped her a wink and headed for the apartment, his hands full of grocery bags.

  Oh, focus! They were supposed to be unloading groceries. She could tell he’d bought way more than had been on their list, but that was Mark. He was a great dad, and always had been. He was the disciplinarian in their house, but their daughters also knew he’d fight to the death to defend them and take care of them. If this had been their fault, sure, he would have gone shopping, but he wouldn’t have spoiled them rotten by getting them the two packages of Oreos she spotted in one bag, an item that hadn’t even been on their list but that he knew from being a good dad was their favorite.

  She grabbed another load and followed him inside.

  When she opened the door, she heard him fussing at them to not get up and let him and June put everything away.

  “Listen to your father, both of you,” she playfully scolded. “We don’t get to spoil you very often, so let us.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both said.

  June caught the way Mark had to turn his back to them because he was trying not to laugh at that.

  No, they didn’t mean it that way—they’d raised their Southern daughters with manners. But it was still funny.

  It was close to eight p.m. by the time June and Mark got out of there that night and were headed home to Sarasota in his truck. They’d have to do the paperwork transfer on the car next week, but for now it was still registered and insured to them, meaning it was drivable.

  Mark rested his right hand on her thigh while he drove. “So what kind of car are you thinking about?”

  Oh, right, that delicious image was still bubbling in her mind, his earlier promise. “An SUV, probably. I think I’m over cars now, Daddy.” She rested her hand on his and curled her fingers around it.

  “No arguments from me, baby.”

  When they returned home, they headed straight for their bedroom to take a shower. With that finished, she could tell Scrye was back in the house, Mark the dad tucked safely away, for now.

  He sat on the bed. When he pointed at the floor, she slid to her knees. “Say it.”

  She smiled. “I belong to Sir, mind, body, heart, soul, cunt, and ass. I serve Sir at His wishes, at His whim, whenever and wherever He demands. Everything I have and am belongs to Sir, to give to Him when He demands.”

  “Such a good girl for Daddy.” He crooked a finger at her and she climbed into his lap, straddling him, loving that his cock was hard for her. Her big bear of a man, a broad and brawny six-four to her five-two gymnast frame.

  She draped her arms around his neck. “Can we please do rope tonight, Daddy?”

  He smiled. “Oh we are soooo doing rope tonight, baby.” He kissed her, his neatly trimmed beard and mustache soft against her cheeks. “Daddy’s going to tie you up into a pretzel and fuck you until you beg to come.”

  June rose a little to wiggle her pussy against his cock. “Can I start the begging now?”

  He laughed. “Someone’s a horny little slut for Daddy tonight.”

  “Yes, Sir, I am.”

  He smacked her ass. “Then get up so I can get my rope bags.”

  She climbed off him and he went and dug the bag out of the spare bedroom that was now their playroom, complete with their own pole for her pole-dancing.

  That she could explain away, because she now taught classes in it at the yoga and gymnastics studio she helped her older sister May run.

  Everyone knew it, too.

  What wouldn’t be as explainable would be the folding spanking bench that was in there, and the bag of implements, like paddles, riding crops, and floggers.

  They’d gone to extreme lengths while the girls were growing up to never expose them to their kinky pursuits. Their daughters knew they had a dynamic where Mark was in charge, and June was happiest with it that way, but they’d also taught their daughters that it didn’t mean they had to have that kind of dynamic, or that their dynamic was the only way to have a relationship or marriage.

  Of course, now that Fifty Shades was a phenomenon, the girls had probably figured out a few things on their own about their parents’ relationship.

  But if they had, they hadn’t mentioned it to June.

  Thankfully.

  While she’d always been honest and open with her daughters, and while she’d touched on kink as a valid choice, and that there was nothing wrong with it, she’d deliberately left out the part that she enjoyed it when Mark tied her up and spanked her. If they ever outright asked her about it, she would
n’t lie.

  She was just hoping that particular question never came up with either daughter.

  Mark returned with the rope bag. Within twenty minutes, he had her trussed in a tie that left her thighs spread wide and her unable to squirm free. Around her chest, her breasts were pushed out and he leaned in, sucking first one nipple, then the other.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said with an evil smile.

  She loved this about him, this side of him. She totally trusted him, knew how safety conscious he was, so she had little to worry about except lying there and enjoying—or enduring, or enjoying and enduring—whatever he was about to dish out.

  He settled between her thighs. “First, I want to make sure someone gets her fair share of joy tonight.”

  She moaned as she felt his beard and mustache between her thighs, and the way his warm, sweet tongue swept up her pussy, circled her clit, and traveled down again to dip inside her cunt and taste her. Over and over, back and forth, easily making her come once, twice—and then she lost count as each wave sort of started rolling together into one big ball of pleasure.

  He reached up and pinched her nipples as he did, adding spice to the sweet ecstasy turning her into a compliant lump of need and nerve endings.

  He never had trouble making her come. Ever.

  Finally, when he was satisfied he’d made her come enough, he sat up and notched the head of his cock against her pussy, where he easily slid home. No trouble whatsoever, because she knew if it hadn’t been for the towel he’d put under her before they started, they’d be changing the sheets from the wet spot on the bed.

  Not a bad problem to have, either.

  He slowly fucked her, taking his time and staring down at her with those green eyes that had seen the best and worst in her and still loved her all these years later.

  He’d held her, helped her, hid her crimes, and never once betrayed her.

  Ever.

  All the years he’d kept her secrets and she’d never known it.

  This man was the love of her life, the only man she’d ever loved, the only man she’d ever been with—that perfect kind of storybook love, if you left out the revenge murder, illegal disposal of a body, and obstruction of a police investigation.