by Thianna D
This is what you wanted, so stop acting like such a baby. She took another sip of liquid courage. Heat seeped into her sinuses. "You can kiss me if you like," she offered.
"Oh, I can?" His teeth flashed white, and his cheeks dimpled. "Why don't you kiss me?"
Holding her glass steady, she leaned close and brushed her lips against his mouth. With her free hand, she trailed her fingers along his jaw. Growing bolder, she teased the seam of his lips with her tongue. His groan infused her with daring, and when he opened his mouth, she ventured inside.
He tangled one hand in her hair, crushing her curls, but letting her set the pace of their kiss. "You taste like cannoli," he murmured against her mouth.
Abby smiled. "You do too." She traced the edge of his V-neck sweater, wrapped a whorl of hair around her finger.
They continued to kiss while holding their drinks, but as caresses became bolder and heated, it required acrobatic juggling to keep from spilling. But she had lost her nervousness and was game to experience whatever he wanted to show her.
Abruptly, Harris broke contact, lifted her drink from her unresisting fingers and set hers and his both on the coffee table. He hauled her into his arms and plundered her mouth in earnest. Abby kissed him back and then twisted her head away to press her lips along his jaw. "I'm, uh, okay now," she said.
"Good." The corner of his mouth twitched.
Did he understand what she meant? "I mean about sleeping with you." Abby paused. Inhaled. "With being spanked. And everything." She exhaled.
He slid his hand under her hair to cup her throat, then caressed her jaw with his thumb. "Everything would be a lot." His eyes smiled.
Abby jabbed his chest with her finger. "You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do." He teasingly poked her back, then covered her breast, located the nipple. The hardened tip beaded more.
His face sobered. "Give me a word that means no or stop."
"What's wrong with no or stop—oh, you mean, like a safeword."
"I doubt you'll need it, but in the heat of the moment no may not mean no. If something hurts more than you can take or makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell me. The word should be something you wouldn't say during sex."
Her stomach fluttered with scary thrilling excitement at the prospect that she could possibly need a safeword. Missionary position sexual intercourse with one's spouse after the eleven o'clock news rarely (never) required a safeword. Now when she needed a one, her vocabulary failed her. Perhaps it was good they were having this conversation.
"Matelassé," she said finally.
"Is that an antique?"
"It's a bed coverlet," she said. "But if it's not a good word…"
He chuckled. "No, it's good. I doubt it will come up in conversation."
Abby fluttered her lashes. "You don't think I would say, 'I'm naked and cold, pull up the matelassé?'"
"Naked. I like that part," he said. "But you won't need a matelassé. I'll keep you warm." Harris pulled her close and tight and kissed her.
He was right. Chest to chest, his mouth on hers, they produced more than enough heat. She squeaked when he scooped her up and cradled her on his lap. Definitely no need for a matelassé. Harris made full use of the opportunity, spreading heady kisses from her mouth to her jaw, her throat. He caressed her body, stroking her neck, her shoulder, her breast through her clothing. With the sundress, she'd been unable to wear a bra, and the peak of her nipple tented the fabric. He circled the bud with his thumb, igniting an ache that tugged at her core.
Abby snaked a hand underneath his sweater, reveled in the contrast to her body. Hard instead of soft, rough rather than smooth. She curled her fingers into his chest hair and dragged her lips across his throat, his shadow causing her mouth to tingle.
Harris ran his hand along her thigh over her dress, then slipped under the hem. Awareness skittered, and her breath caught in her throat as he moved his hand higher. He cupped her ass over her panties. Squeezed.
A moan of pleasure trembled on her lips.
A smile lit his face with traces of devilment and lust, but also affection. He was so damned cute. And sexy. The combination of boyish fun and masculine intent ignited flutters of excitement, and the indecision melted. While kissing her, he continued to caress her buttocks and legs, kneading and stroking, creating a heated throb between her thighs.
"You have a nice ass," he whispered.
"Mm," she murmured. "Glad you like it."
After another hard kiss, he shifted her again so that she lay butt up over his lap, elbows on one side, knees on the other. What a strategist. By having her sit in the middle of the sofa, he'd plotted ahead to this moment. Devious.
Is he going to spank me now? Her heart hammered with returning trepidation.
But his hand, when he brought it down, did not strike, but caressed, drawing slow circles over her clothing. His sensual massage calmed her ruffled nerves, yet cranked up her libido. Of course, his erection, digging into her hip had its effect too.
A breath of cool air wafted across her bare legs when he flipped her dress over her waist.
Thank goodness she'd worn decent panties. She'd wavered between a thong and bikinis, and ended up opting for the latter, not sure she wanted her naked ass to be the first thing he saw. But then he slipped a finger underneath the elastic band.
"These need to come off."
The moment of truth. She swallowed. "Okay." She counted as one woman among Harris's many playmates. One small step for him, but one giant leap for her. Her participation in this sexual spanking escapade meant she was leaving behind her loss and the trauma of her divorce to sail forth into unchartered territory. Fortunately, a very capable captain had his hands on the helm.
And her panties.
At his tug, she raised her hips, and he pulled her underwear down her legs and over her sandaled feet. Equal parts embarrassment and excitement flooded her body with heat—and moisture. She hoped she didn't leave a huge wet spot on his slacks. From her position on the sofa, she could spy the spanking bench. He'd kind of implied they wouldn't be using that, hadn't he? But if he asked her to, she would.
She jumped when Harris palmed her ass cheek: He chuckled. Her pussy quivered.
Almost like she had the flu, her sensitive skin registered each stroke, each squeeze. Fever consumed her, yet his hand felt hotter still as he kneaded her bottom.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
Aside from being caught in a tangle of confusion and lust? "Fine," she answered. "I mean, I like what you're doing," she amended. 'Fine' sufficed when a grocery store checker who didn't care asked how you were. When a sexy, hot guy squeezed your naked ass causing your pussy to shudder, 'fine' didn't cut the mustard.
He continued to massage and knead, alternating soft squeezes with harder ones bordering on pain, but that suffused her body with pleasure and yearning. More. She needed more, and began to wiggle. He clamped his arm across her waist, holding her steady, and then smacked her ass.
"Oh!" Abby jerked.
The spank had been light—even in her inexperience she could tell that—but a jolt of pure electricity skipped through her.
With the same lack of force, he struck the other cheek. Abby sucked in a breath. This is it. Oh god. Oh god. Her pulse raced with anticipation. Her pussy let down a surge of moisture.
Thwack! A swat kissed her behind. Another. Then two more.
"Okay?" he asked.
Abby wiggled. "Don't stop."
Light strokes firmed as he peppered her cheeks. She arched under the stingy blows, trying to avoid them, yet enjoying each one. When one particularly sharp slap seared her behind, her hands flew to protect her ass from bombardment.
"None of that, Abby," he scolded.
She loved his stern commanding tone and the strength enabling him to capture both her wrists in one hand and secure them against her back. The secret thrill of lying ass-up over a man's lap and being spanked filled her with rapture. How wicked. How naugh
ty.
"Sweet girl," he praised her in a hoarse tone.
His room filled with sharp cracks, her moans and his masculine rumbles of praise.
Over and over, his hand came down, delivering the sweet, searing kisses. Just when pain began to edge out the pleasure, he stopped, and slipped his fingers between her thighs. His growl of satisfaction confirmed she was soaked. Harris stroked her folds, her clit, and penetrated her needy pussy. She raised her hips to take him deeper.
"Oh god, please, Harris," she moaned when he withdrew and proceeded to tease her clit. She bucked, trying to rub against his finger.
He dragged her off his lap and into a sitting position. He yanked on the bows that kept the spaghetti straps of her dress together, and pulled the garment over her head. Slipping off the sofa, he sank to his knees.
Abby's breath caught in her throat. Her heart beat a fast rhythm accompanied by a throb in her ass cheeks.
How a man with such cute dimples could appear so rakish when he smiled, she couldn't fathom, but he flashed another wicked grin and lifted her legs over his shoulders. Inside, Abby squirmed with bashfulness, but then he lowered his head and covered her pussy with his mouth and a wanton desire coursed through her.
Her head fell back, and her eyes closed in surrender to the sensation.
"No." Harris lifted his mouth so that only his breath touched her. "Look at me."
Abby forced herself to focus. His molten gaze locked on hers. He dipped his chin and licked her clit. He eased a finger, then a second, into her channel and pumped. She enjoyed oral sex, receiving and giving. Watching Harris do it and having him watch her watch him do it drove her over the top. Every lick burned like a kiss from a candle flame.
She could read his emotions in his eyes, the teasing, the lust, his approval. Damn, but she wanted to please this man.
Abby tried to keep her eyes open, but she was so fucking turned on, her orgasm exploded without warning. Her eyes shuttered so tight she saw stars.
How fierce and beautiful she was in ecstasy. He almost wished he could claim her for the long term. But after witnessing the repeated debacles of his parents' multiple failed marriages, Harris had learned forever was a fantasy, but Abby tempted him. Oh, how she tempted him.
She'd flung her head back and thrashed against his face with such force he would not have been surprised if she'd broken his nose. He loved how she abandoned herself to pleasure, surrendered to it, and most all, trusted him. He'd predicted correctly her pale skin would blush like a rose. With the first swat, a mere tap, she'd colored pink. The flush faded as quickly as it had bloomed, but when he laid several more slaps upon her, she maintained her color. Her entire ass glowed an even hue.
And didn't it make his balls blue.
He'd sensed her withdrawal in the parking garage and guessed she was getting cold feet. He'd backed off to give her the space she needed, to ensure her comfort. He'd learned in poker to bide his time. He ached like a motherfucker, but her pleasure was worth his discomfort. And what a payoff.
Her pussy had contracted around his fingers, and she had thrust her sex against his mouth. She jabbed his back with the heels of her sandals. He waited until the shudders subsided then withdrew his fingers.
As if emerging from a trance, Abby shook her head. He laid an intimate lip lock on her, letting her taste herself on his lips. She did not resist the kiss but moaned and sucked his tongue deeper.
From her mouth, he moved to her tits. Her stiff pink nipples begged for his attention. How could he resist such an enchanting plea? While palming one, he sucked the other. She combed her fingers in his hair, and arched her back, offering herself.
Fuck, she made him want.
He licked and sucked both tits until her nipples grew stone hard and red. Gorgeous. Pulling back, he drank in the sight before surrendering to another addictive taste. By the time he lifted his head, both of them were breathing like they'd run a race.
"Sexy Abby," he whispered. "Feel what you do to me." Harris placed her hand on his crotch. She gripped his bulge and stroked the length with firm pressure. Pleasure sang in his blood.
"Let's go to bedroom," he said.
"Okay." She tugged at his belt buckle. It resisted her efforts at first, but caved to her insistence.
"Sorry about your pants," she said.
Huh? He followed her gaze to the large stain on one thigh and partially on other. He grinned. He'd felt her desire wetting his leg when he'd spanked her. Her arousal had heightened the sexual need spanking her had stirred. "Maybe I should discipline you for that," he teased.
"Maybe you should." She lowered her lashes and his zipper at the same time. Heat surged. He liked her femininity, her shyness, but loved the flashes of femme fatale that winked in and out. She skirted her small hand under the waistband of his jockeys and captured his cock. Mother of god! Harris sucked in a gasp of pleasure.
She stroked and squeezed, escalating his hunger. He needed to move them to the other room before he embarrassed himself. She gave a little cry when he stood and yanked her to her feet in one motion. "Bedroom. That way." He pointed toward the corridor. "To the right." He smacked her cherry ass to hasten her along.
With the cutest squeal she scampered for the hall, her hair flouncing in a wild tangle over her shoulders, her rosy bottom wiggling. A growl of need erupted in his throat. He couldn't wait to spank her again, test drive the bench, employ some of those vintage spanking implements.
Harris glanced at the apparatus. Next time.
Abby disappeared around the corner, and Harris caught up with her and hustled her into his bedroom. "I wasn't sure if you intended to join me or not," she joked.
"Oh I intend to join you," he said, and divested himself of his clothing.
Abby's gaze riveted on his cock. Her eyes widened for a moment, and her lips curved into a smile. "Very impressive," she said, and drew her finger along the underside of his erection from his balls to his cockhead. Scraped with her fingernail.
Stupid, but her comment pleased him. Not so stupid, but so did her touch. She swirled her thumb over the head, spreading the precum. Then she bent and took him into her mouth.
A bolt of pure electricity shot through him. "Fuck, Abby!"
It wasn't her thumb, but her tongue this time that swiped over the glans, painting his cock with liquid heat. Then her cheeks hollowed, and she sucked him deep as if trying to pull the cum from his body.
Hair hid her face, but in the mirrored closet doors he could view a bigger picture—her bowing over his groin, her backside scarlet, her sex pink and glistening.
Pressure built. "Lie down," he ordered hoarsely. Fuck, his goddamn legs shook. He pushed her away and yanked back the covers. While she crawled onto his king bed, he grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and rolled it on.
The mattress bounced as he flung himself next to her. He plundered her mouth before kissing his way down her body. Using his mouth and fingers, he brought her to the brink of orgasm, and hauled her to her knees. She rested on her elbows so her nipples brushed the mattress, and raised her glowing ass high. He growled and smacked her cheek. She squealed. Lifted her butt even higher.
Did she have any idea how provocative her behavior was? He slapped the other side, reveling in the crack, the sting, her moan. He delivered a quick volley of smacks to deepen her blush. Nothing could be as sexy as her poised, wet and ready for him. Palms tingling, he grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip against her wet opening, pushing inside. Sweet bliss.
He sucked in a hiss of air through his teeth as sensation shot from his groin throughout his body. The urge to thrust pounded in his blood, but he held himself immobile afraid the pleasure would undermine his control. For her and for him, he preferred to draw out their passion. Have her come one more time while he fucked her. He wanted her tight, muscled pussy to convulse around him.
Gritting his teeth, he eased back then drove forward. Fuck. So good. Once more. Fuck. "Touch yourself," he ordered. "Rub your clit."
He swiveled his pelvis as he thrust, control slipping despite his firm grip on her hips that left white impressions in her reddened flesh. So acute the sensation, he could have been riding bareback. As he fucked her, he focused on her snugness, her glistening pink wetness. In the mirror he caught sight of her face, contorted with impending ecstasy.
"Harris, Harris," she cried, hips bucking, her fingers flying. Her channel convulsed in ripples. She came, and he followed, bellowing her name in a shudder of rapture.
Panting, he stared at their joined bodies, disoriented by the swirl of pleasure. Gripping the condom, he pulled out. "Be right back," he said. He padded to the bathroom to dispose of the rubber.
When he returned, Abby had sprawled across the bed. She lifted her face from the pillow at his approach, then ducked her head. Shy. Tenderness fluttered in his chest. He guessed her ex-husband had been her first and only, and in a possessive way, her inexperience pleased him. He and he alone had introduced her to the intimacies and joys of spanking. And he had so much more to teach her.
He knelt on the bed, and nudged her thighs. "Spread your legs." She eyed the washcloth in his hand, and a hint of pink crept across her cheeks. "I can do that," she protested huskily.
"Or you can let me," he replied in a stern tone, stifling an amused chuckle. She'd sucked his cock and let him spank her, eat her and fuck her, but to have him wipe away the residue of her desire and condom lube caused a bout of shyness.
She muttered something that sounded like "bossy," but spread her legs, and Harris blotted her flesh with the wet cloth.
"Is my ass very red?"
"Beautifully," he answered. "Do you want to see?" He motioned toward the mirror. She should look so he could calm any fears she might have. When she was more comfortable with spanking, he would take pictures of her rosy ass.
"Yes, I would." She sat up, and winced as her bottom connected with the bed. "My butt is tingly. With like a deeper ache. But… pleasant somehow."