by Ellen, Tracy
I moved my head slightly and kissed the palm of the hand rubbing my cheek. I kissed the inside of his wrist next and sucked lightly on the warm skin. Reaching up, I placed slow kisses across his cheekbone, until I licked near his ear.
“Luke, where? Here,” I sucked lightly on his ear lobe and ran my hands through his short hair. Traveling down, I nipped gently on his luscious lower lip, “or here on your beautiful lips?”
Not waiting for his answer, I slid my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately full on the mouth. We traded long kisses and mumbled words of praise in between angling our heads for closer, deeper contact. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I told him how wet he made me with only his kisses. He pulled me off the desk and into his arms while telling me how hard I made him the minute he looked into my beautiful blue eyes tonight. He mentioned sparkling sapphires or something, but I didn’t really hear over the blood pounding in my head. Breathlessly, I leaned back. I traced my finger around his lips while meeting his mesmerizing gaze.
“Maybe you’d like a kiss here, Luke, on your coccyx?” I lowered a hand and glided it along the length of his erection straining against the heavy fleece material of his sweats. I wriggled to be put down on my feet. “I choose a kiss on the coccyx.”
“I choose my turn,” he shot back, closing his eyes briefly when I didn’t stop gripping and stroking. He lightly swatted my butt over the thick trench coat and gobs of fabric currently riding on his hooked arm, “and I want to open my gift.”
I was feeling a little confused at his denial of the Bermuda Triangle getaway and the kiss on the coccyx. Luke’s iron control over his dick made me uncertain and excited at the same time. If I hadn’t felt how large and hard he was a moment ago, I would have been much unhappier. He merely had to talk about touching me and I lost my sanity. He seemed to be able to use his big head to make rational choices. I shrugged off my momentary envy and concentrated on making his turn at a fantasy what he dreamed.
“You’ll need to put me down first.”
“Don’t you want to know why I chose this as my turn, Anabel?” Luke’s voice was teasing. He didn’t put me down, but turned and leaned back on the desk. With his strong hands under my coat and gripping my hips, I was straddled on his lap and riding his erection.
“Oh, do I ever, but first can I tell you something?” If pushing my hair behind my shoulders caused my hips to wiggle and my butt to move up and down on his lap, it was beyond my control.
“Sure,” Luke replied readily, but his easy tone was belied by the tightening around his mouth at my wriggling.
Letting go of my hair, my hands smoothed across his shoulders and then I ran my nails down the front of his chest and over to his arms. We stared at each other seriously until I couldn’t hold the excitement inside a second longer and it bubbled out of me in a happy smile. The only emotion currently fluttering inside was pure anticipation, any confusion was gone.
I traced around his biceps with my fingertips. “My Devil, I know you didn’t expect Your Turn so soon after you texted tonight. Or that it would be,” I flipped a hand in the air towards the doorway, “out here in your barn. I promise you, though,” I paused to softly kiss his parted lips and then whispered fervently in his ear, “this is going to be the best turn of your life.”
I felt Luke swell even larger against my bottom at my words. This caused me to rub without thought on his lap. He made a noise deep in his throat and wrapped his arms tight around me. He kissed me hungrily on the throat above the open collar of my coat.
‘Now this is more like it!’ I thought as Luke continued to kiss my neck, my face, and finally my mouth with an urgency that mocked his usual calm control.
After a few moments, he pulled back. He shot me a grin that had me smiling back instantly because it was so mischievous. I continued rubbing his arms. The problem with this move was that anytime my hands come in contact with Luke’s incredible biceps my mind goes AWOL’ing. It’s probably weird to get so turned on by this particular musculature in a man’s body, but you try talking sense to what trips your cha-cha trigger. It wasn’t easy, but I forced myself to stay in reality, instead of drifting off into La La Land and envisioning riding his arm like a teeter-totter on my own personal playground.
I grinned, “Okay, tell me why this is your fantasy.”
“My parents both have full-time careers. When I was around eleven, they decided I still needed a babysitter for the summer, regardless of how I pleaded.” Luke’s eyes went faraway like people do when remembering a long ago story, as if they were back in time and reliving it. He shook his head slightly and refocused on my face. Chuckling he added, “I was pissed, but it was a good decision. I probably would have done something incredibly idiotic if left on my own. As it stood, I was plenty stupid even with supervision and needed stitches three different times from bike crashes.” I smiled in sympathy while imagining a fierce, little Luke riding his bike like a speed demon and wiping out. “The babysitter they chose was Barbara Anne Wrigley. She was seventeen; nothing special when I look back on it, but man,” Luke’s lips curled in happy remembrance, “the girl was stacked. All summer she practiced dancing to this one band of female singers. She’d play the same CD repeatedly. She’d do the dance moves in the middle of the living room while I’d be pretending to play on my new Game Boy. I watched her like a hawk.” He smiled at my laughter, and the expression was both seductive and endearingly sweet. I felt that weird melting again in my chest and firmly ignored it. “There was one slow song in particular that she would shake her tits and ass to that had me spanking the monkey in my bunk bed most nights.” I giggled and rolled my eyes at his crude, boy lingo. He went on in an aggrieved voice, “You laugh, but if that wasn’t torture enough, she had her girlfriends come over, too. There I’d sit in a horny stupor and pretend to play Nintendo while they all practiced that one song for hours. We had a pool, so they were often wearing only bikinis. I walked around that entire summer with permanent wood.” He touched my cheek and grinned, “Like how it’s been since I’ve met you.”
I laughed and felt my eyes widen at his teasing comment, but I didn’t reply. I flattened my hands on his bare chest and lay my head against his heart. As I listened to the steady, strong beat, maybe my sapphire eyes were sparkling, but I couldn’t be blamed.
‘I made Luke Drake, my own Dark Knight, walk around with permanent wood! I could die a complete woman.’
I was a lot younger than the busty Barbara Ann, but I was doing the same thing she was that summer in the apartment living room. I intimately knew the female band Luke referenced. Me and my girls performed many songs from that CD, along with all the corresponding dance moves. I practiced every sensuous body motion they made for hours on end. I knew them like the back of my hand. We’d put on various “shows” throughout the years. All of us girls uninhibitedly danced liked depraved strippers without our poles while Reg and his friends performed break dancing moves on the hardwood floor in front of us.
I had worn out the original CD years ago, but replaced it promptly. I loved the particular song inspiring Luke’s boyhood babysitter to strut her stuff and a frenzied Luke to stroke his stuff. When older, I must confess to having an interlude or two while in my own bunk bed. I imagined dancing for a room full of excited men inspired by that music video. I don’t know if it’s an odd coincidence that Luke and I had the same childhood fantasies, or if this was a common theme in bunk beds throughout the United States. I do know twenty-odd years later; I still think En Vogue’s “Giving Him Something He Can Feel” was a seductive dance song that was hotter than hell.
I shared none of this with Luke. Instead, I handed him the gift bag off the desk. “Open.”
He stood up and let me down off his lap. Barefoot on the chilly cement floor, I smoothed out the bunched up trench coat and watched Luke carefully untie the red bow. He kept giving me small, pleased glances and it hit home he was not used to receiving presents. I love to give presents even more than I love to rece
ive them. Okay, maybe it was a tie.
He took off the tissue paper and pulled out the black bow tie. It was loosely tied to go over his head easily and then be tightened. His smile was genuine and he slipped it over his head immediately. I came forward and pulled it snug. Luke held obediently still while I fussed with it, until it hung straight on his tanned neck.
Stepping away and waving off his thanks with a grin, I said, “My pleasure. It was the closest I could come to a tailored suit with ten minutes notice. I knew you’d want to be dressed appropriately for Your Turn.” I looked him over and clapped with delight. “You are so yummy that I want to bite you!”
Shirtless, and wearing his mouth-watering muscles and the black bow tie; he was a Chippendale dancer in the flesh--minus the creepiness. Luke raised his brows and flexed his biceps for me while chuckling and preening cockily at my compliment. Laughing in admiration, I picked up the backpack while Luke grabbed his clothes off the chair.
He pointed out through the Dutch door. “I’ll go wait for you in the main part of the barn. You’ll see why in a minute.” He walked over to me and tipped up my chin to place a quick, hard kiss on my lips. He nodded towards a door on the opposite wall of the small office. “There’s a bathroom through there.”
I watched him walk over to the Dutch door. From the back, his broad shoulders and slim waist did that V thing. His ass was firm and round under his sweatpants. All that exposed brown skin, flexing muscles, and commanding air of confidence as he walked away combined for a breathtaking work of living art. Luke was only average in height, but he was perfectly proportioned and moved with the grace of a jungle cat.
His voice shook me from my trance when he said over his shoulder, “Don’t make me wait too much longer, Anabel, you hear?”
“Oh, I hear, Master Luke, I hear.”
He gave me a long look at my cheekiness and then left me to get ready for performing His Turn.
Grinning at his intimidation attempt, I was already dashing to the bathroom door. Inside the bathroom, I checked it out while peeling off the trench coat. It was clean and utilitarian. Men and women that have served our country make great roommates. There was a full-size shower stall with a glass door and a sizeable vanity and sink.
I unzipped the bag and got out the sparkling high-heels, the black, satin gloves that miraculously fit my small hands and reached to above my elbows, and the glittering chandelier earrings and matching wide bracelet.
Luckily, the spandex blend of bright red fabric did not wrinkle, not that it would have mattered. Fitting like a second skin glued tightly over my entire body, the silky dress lovingly hugged every hill and dale down to the floor. There was a knee-high slit off center in front that showed off my diamond heels with every step. I was still shocked at the fact the length of the red dress was perfect. This just does not happen in my five-foot-one-inch life. The shelf bra built into the brief bodice of the dress exposed more of my full breasts than I usually put up for public display. There was a real possibility my nipples may pop out when I danced. Since the rest of my costume fit to perfection, I could only conclude Mr. Tricky was counting on this wardrobe malfunction taking place.
‘Cheers, Barbie Ann!’ I giggled.
Everything I needed for a clean-up and touch-up was in the backpack. In no time I was ready. I somehow managed to buckle the delicate ankle straps of the gorgeously simple sandals without too much difficulty. Flexing my foot to admire their sparkling brilliance, I was falling completely in shoe love when there was a loud banging of a door. The disturbance in the air pressure caused the partially open bathroom door to noticeably move.
A little unsteadily on my super-sexy heels, I walked slowly out into the office. I didn’t see anyone, but then I heard what sounded like the grating, lisping voice of a young girl.
“Luke? Luke, are you in here?”
‘Yep, it was Comrade Slaphappy, alright.’
I froze in place with my head cocked. It sounded like she had already passed the Dutch door and was heading towards the gated area leading into the barn where I knew Luke had gone to wait for me.
It wasn’t a second later I heard her crying, “Oh, there you are! I have been so frightened all alone in the house and vaiting for you!”
I raised my brows at this and moved forward another step. I found myself mouthing the word “frightened”. It sounded so alluring with that Natasha accent, even with the lisp.
I heard Luke’s deep voice and realized they weren’t far outside the Dutch door.
His voice sounded sharp when he demanded, “Why? Has something happened?”
I heard a loud sniffing noise and rolled my eyes in disbelief. ‘The baby was still crying? What the hell did she have to cry over? I was the one sucker slapped in the chops!’
“Oh, nothing like that has happened.” She started crying louder. The woman was really turning on the water works.
‘What the heck was the seal-barker up to?’ I unconsciously took a step closer.
“I have been so frightened ven you did not answer cell. I vanted to tell you a voman came to the door looking for you some time ago. I vas so afraid! She vas so mean, so full of anger. She struck me and called me names, Luke!”
I heard weeping, and I heard Luke making comforting noises, and then I heard bells going off in my head. I may be sobered up now, but that never stops me from reacting when those bells and whistles start blowing.
All of Team Anabel in my head started yelling at once, ‘What the…? That lying lisper! Do something, girl!’
So I did.
Reaching down, I picked up one of Jazy’s heavy boots from the floor where they had fallen off my feet. At the Dutch door, I leaned over the shelf that topped the closed bottom half. Svettie was standing only a couple of feet past the door and in the middle of the entry. The Russian had her back to me. Her hands covered her face and she sobbed dramatically while resting her tragic, furry head on Luke’s shoulder.
She really was covered in white fur, from head to toe. She wore a white coat trimmed in white fur, knee-high white fur boots, and she had a white fur hat perched on her head. It was shaped like a marshmallow. I blinked at the White Palace outfit and wondered if she thought her ancestress was possibly the controversial, presumably assassinated Anastasia Romanovna.
‘Weren’t those royals severely inbred back then?’ I pictured a rabbit punch to the nose to definitively answer that question. If Svettie bled out to her death, then she was an inbred. Her pitiful wails reached new levels of piercing shrillness to interrupt my daydream.
‘Holy Hannah, the woman is nuts!’
My Hero had put on his jacket over his bare chest and bow tie. Luke rarely looked awkward doing anything, but tonight he came close. Watching him pat Svettie on the back with one hand and hold her lightly around the waist with his other, the level of patience displayed on Luke’s face and in his calming voice amazed me. He must feel a connection of some sort with this woman. With detached interest, I watched the show and speculated at their relationship. It’s true; most guys were suckered in by a blubbering, helpless woman sniffing on their shoulder because they liked playing the big, strong hero. If they like the girl at all, they rarely see the manipulation behind the tears. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have much tolerance for such an overplayed performance.
I know I didn’t.
When I heard her hiccupping something about Anabel the Cow any reservations I had about interfering flew out the Dutch door. I wound up and threw the boot at the abominable snowwoman, missing royal Romanov descendant or not. The heavy boot hit her square in the ass and she twirled around, her hands now covering her butt instead of her weeping face.
It worked to shut her up. She stared at me in stunned astonishment, her mouth hanging open and her tiny teeth showing. I was resting my arms on the shelf and enjoying her gaping expression of shock. She knew that I had witnessed her little display of theatrics.
My narrowed eyes and knowing nod clearly said, ‘You’ve got it, siste
r. I heard every twisted thing you said.’
At least, I could only hope my expression conveyed the mean, cold anger I was feeling at her outright lies. There’s a special type of disdain in my heart for women that lie out of sheer viciousness, laziness, or lack of imagination. It’s very easy to get your point across without ever telling a falsehood, if you only try.
I looked past Svettie to see Luke observing me with raised brows. He wore his usual default expression of cool amusement that seemed to be the prevalent look when in my vicinity. He showed no reaction that I threw a boot at the nut, but he had to be relieved that she was quiet and no longer pitching a fit. My original impressions of his care and concern for the Russian remained imprinted on my brain to think about later. Right now, I noticed that Luke’s eyes had traveled lower and stopped, arrested.
The shelf on the bottom door hit me right below chest level. My indecently exposed breasts couldn’t be more on public display. Dismissing the sniffing Russian, I knocked sharply on the door to get Luke’s attention off the boob-loop. He took his sweet time, but when he finally brought his glinting eyes back up to mine, I raised my brows in return and tapped my wrist in the universal code that said, “Time Check”.
Before this unwelcome interruption, a glance at my phone verified it was 1:45 AM. Luke needed to decide his priorities and he didn’t need me as an audience. I was surprisingly uninterested in Svetlana’s motives for throwing her lying, tizzy fit. I don’t like dealing with dramatic, hysterical women I like, much less the ones I’ve just thrown a boot at to shut up. I went back to the bathroom.
I am first and foremost a female, so the door was left open for me to hear.
It was only a moment later that Luke appeared in the bathroom doorway. I was applying a second coat of red lip gloss. I gave him a level look through the mirror over the sink.
“I’ll be right back.” His eyes swept up and down the tight red dress of his fantasies and lingered on my breasts. He then met my gaze once more and spoke quietly, “You are beautiful.”