Double-Crossed

by Barbra Novac

  As if reading his mind, she said, “Are you wondering at all what I was doing in that store tonight?”

  Peter glanced up at her and knew right away that this was a conversation to avoid, but that he was going to have it anyway.

  “You mean, do I have any idea what an extremely attractive woman would be doing in a sex store at night, alone?”

  “Well, that's sort of what I meant. Haven't you wondered why I was there?”

  Peter sensed that vulnerable apprehension in her voice again. Everything in him screamed to stop. If he climbed into this conversation with her, he'd never get himself out safely. Looking at her gave him a familiar power surge, and with a sigh, he let himself fall into temptation.

  “I believe I know already why you were there.”

  “You do?” She looked very surprised to hear this. “Tell me, then. Tell me why I go to that store.”

  Her coy fear gave way to defiance, challenging Peter to understand her. Despite all he knew she'd been through, an innocence of sorts permeated her. Peter warmed to her, entranced.

  “It feels safe there. It's the kind of protection that people usually flee from, but there is a deep sexual part of you that feeds your own fear, starting in your belly and working its way out. Sexually alive women have to express themselves, and there is very little permission for women to solicit sexual activity unless it is within the bounds of what society deems appropriate. Which usually means marriage. However, you are not married. Additionally, you still ache, and you burn beyond what is deemed normal for human beings. You need to find relief, and you need to feed what's deep inside you. You go there because they can't judge you for liking—I am guessing here, but I suppose—dirty films. You hide away in those little booths pushing fingers and toys into your body, pumping and searching for the thing inside that can't be satisfied.

  “No one will spy on you because the people who run the store look after you. You get to be brave because you are in public, but you also hide among the sleaze, so you're in no danger of losing your well-protected heart. Plus it reminds you that your wild sexuality is ugly, and that gives you comfort so you never have to embrace it to make it part of who you really are.”

  She looked shocked, and Peter guessed that he'd hit his mark. He knew he'd gotten it right, just as he knew he wouldn't be able to resist her any further. He hoped he hadn't revealed too much, that she could handle this level of truth.

  “Um, I guess that's one way to put it.”

  Peter smiled. “Did that make you feel too exposed?”

  Their food arrived, and for a full five minutes, they busied themselves with admiring their fine plates, ordering a bottle of red wine, and discussing the excellence of the wine Peter chose.

  There was a pause from the talk, and Peter could feel Marianne's sexual energy rise and reach over like a thick fog. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “You did make me feel exposed. However, you also make me feel understood.”

  “Have you felt that way before?”

  She laughed a little ruefully. “My only lover has been Joe. I never felt understood by him, or even seen, really.”

  She looked directly at him from across the table, her stare meeting his with determination.

  “I don't ask for pity, though. I've left him, and I did it with power. I wasn't ready for more than him before now.”

  Peter knew their conversation and their flirting had crossed the line, but it no longer mattered. He would deal with consequences tomorrow. This woman and this moment seemed terribly meaningful. Instantly, she'd become more important than all his trials and his career.

  “Am I right about the films? Do you go there to watch movies?”

  Still looking directly in his eye, she smiled a very slow smile that curled up into her eyes.

  “Yes. I like dirty movies. Aren't I bad?”

  Peter leaned forward, resting his chin on his half-curled hand. He made his speech a whisper so that they were completely in their own little world.

  “Yes, you are very bad. You are a hungry little sex-crazed woman, and there is only one way to treat a woman like that.”

  * * *

  As Marianne stared into the eyes of this man who seemed to know her soul, she could think of nothing but the overwhelming response to him from between her legs. With no rationality left, her pussy ran the production now. Her nipples were aching, the wetness between her legs seeped onto her thighs, and once in a little while, she smelled her own arousal. None of it caused her any embarrassment, however. To be crazed with lust in the presence of this man felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  She wasn't at all surprised when he said to her, “How far do you live from here?”

  “Two blocks. I'm just at the top of Victoria Street.”

  He paused, and Marianne believed her heart would explode. He seemed to be thinking things over.

  “I think I should walk you home.”

  This comment deflated her a little. Of course, he is worried about getting me home safely. Despite the obvious signs, Marianne's self-doubt still injected its poison at times. However, her mind played with her again, and again she remembered the line he'd said while staring seductively into her eyes, that there was only one way to treat a woman like her. She wanted to know what Peter would do, given free rein, to a woman like her. Somehow she felt sure he did know how to treat her. Seeing as, overall, she had no idea herself, she felt excited by the prospect of finding out what he might do. Peter called for the check and paid it. Marianne sat still through the process, fumbling with knives and forks and the tablecloth. She couldn't think of anything except the ache between her legs. It owned her, and that made her uncomfortable.

  “I believe I need to use the bathroom before we go.”

  “Can it wait?” Peter said to her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he signed the credit card slip.

  Marianne wanted to find relief. If she could make herself orgasm in the powder room, she might be able to focus on the way home and even handle it when he left her at her front door. However, his response surprised her.

  “Um, well, I don't think so.”

  Peter leaned in to the folds of her ear, so that his warm breath tickled and licked at her.

  “I know what you want to do, and I want to have you before you come.”

  Marianne's eyes flew open, and she let out a small sigh that would have been panting had she been able to suck in more air. She froze, not wanting to break the spell.

  Peter continued, “You'll have to trust me. I told you I know how to treat women like you.”

  At this point, Peter stood up and moved behind Marianne's chair to help her up. She stood and immediately felt the wetness, in a small, thick slipperiness, seep down to the tops of her thighs. She couldn't remember being this wet ever before.

  She stepped out from behind the table, feeling Peter's protective hand on her back as they worked their way through the restaurant to the front door. Peter opened the door for her, and immediately, in the hot, wet air, she felt the coolness between her legs. Her skin tingled and thrilled to get the air swirling around it.

  Moving in next to her, Peter placed an arm about her shoulders in an untroubled manner, as if he did not care who saw them. They turned left into Darlinghurst Road and crossed under the large Coke sign. The city sprawled out to the right with all its bustling lights and midnight beauty. Marianne drank in the moist night air and reveled in Peter's arm over her. We look like those couples, she mused, one of those couples I've always envied.

  Crossing to the start of Victoria Street, Peter slid his hand down Marianne's back and brought it around to her hand. Then moving off to the right, he pulled her respectfully, but firmly into the doorway of a closed shop.

  Marianne felt the hard wall behind her. Although difficult to see Peter in the dark, she could feel his eyes on her. Her arms were straight down on either side of her body, and Peter held each of her fingertips in his palms. He leaned in, his lips moving toward hers,
pausing with just the smallest distance to go. Marianne moved forward into his mouth and kissed him very lightly on the lips. Peter opened his mouth slightly and came back, bending into her with a firmer kiss. At the start of the third kiss, he brushed his tongue, featherlight, against the skin of her lip that pressed against him.

  Marianne felt a rising anticipation tight above her rib cage as she opened her mouth more and released her own tongue to meet his. They dissolved into full, open-mouthed kisses, their tongues exploring each other's mouth, their bodies pressing hard into one another.

  Peter let go of her fingers and slid his hands up and down the sides of her body over the top of her clothes. He ran his hands down easily to grasp her hands, and while still kissing her with passion and intensity, he grabbed at her wrists and pulled them behind her back. He held her slender arms with one of his hands and lifted his other hand to her hair. Twirling it about his fist, he suddenly grabbed the full length, and firmly pulled her head to her left, exposing her throat to the streetlight. He panted hard, and her wrists hurt ever so slightly. Marianne's heart began to beat fast as a small amount of fear mingled with the lust.

  “Tell me what you watched tonight. Tell me what you saw that made you wet,” Peter said with his lips pressed hard against her ear. His voice, though breathless, filled the space between them, deep and commanding. There was no nonsense in this game. Marianne felt she had to comply.

  “I saw… I saw…” Her pussy ached, and she longed to have his fingers explore her there. She felt the hard brick of the wall against her head and her hands as he held her locked tight.

  “Yes, tell me,” he said with more ferocity.

  “I watched two women. I watched two women kissing each other and sucking each other's pussies. I saw the cum dripping from one woman and the other one on her knees sucking it out of her with her long tongue.”

  Peter said nothing but groaned softly into her neck as he licked and kissed her firmly. Then, driving against her body, he pushed one of her legs to the right to make a gap between her thighs and worked his knee directly against her clitoris. Marianne groaned as he slowly circled his knee into her, massaging her with skill and experience.

  “What made you come? What scene had you play with your pretty pussy till you came?” His words came out like groans into her. She could feel his erection hard against her left thigh as he massaged the knee of his right leg into her dark wetness.

  “I saw a woman fucking a man on his lap, but she faced away from him. On her knees in front of her, another woman licked her clitoris while another man fucked her from behind. That made me come.”

  Peter let go of her hair, and she automatically lifted her head back to face him. Still holding her wrists hard, he pressed his face into hers and kissed her forcefully, his tongue getting every piece of her, demanding everything.

  Slowly, he released her wrists and pulled back, kissing her softly as he moved away. Marianne stared at him with her eyes open wide. The throbbing between her legs grew so intense that she almost felt she would die without coming soon. Peter lifted his hands to her face and cupped her chin as he planted light, delicate kisses on her lips.

  “I told you I knew what you need,” was all he said.

  Marianne shifted, straightened her dress, and smoothed her hair. Peter held his palm out to her again, and she took it, stepping out into the streetlight. They walked the next block in silence, looking like any other couple in the street.

  Marianne felt immersed in some kind of fog. She couldn't possibly imagine how he could top that when he got her home.

  Chapter Four

  Marianne's legs and her fingers on the keys turned to jelly as she fumbled at the front door. Refusing to go into the lock, the keys appeared to have a mind of their own, tripping, sliding, and falling out of place at every opportunity.

  The facts presented rationally didn't say much for the situation: opening the door to her home, a man on her heels she'd met that day, in a sex shop. On their way home, he'd played rough with her in the street. You couldn't get a more worrying scenario.

  Intuition said, you're safe, but common sense declared anyone who heard this story would say only an insane woman would let this man into her apartment. Yet here she stood, doing just that.

  The door fell open, and Marianne stepped into her small home, with Peter right behind. He turned and locked the door as she walked into the middle of the room.

  “Uhm, do you want a…?”

  Peter interrupted with a finger pressed against her lips.

  Taking the keys from her hand and setting them on the side table, Peter stared directly into her eyes. Reaching around behind her, his insistent hand slid up her side and found the tip to the delicate zipper at the back of the dress. As if caressing her back, he slid the zipper down its full length. He glided his hands over warm, bare skin. Then with a deft movement, he slid the straps of the dress from her shoulders down her arms. The dress bunched at the waist; her hands remained trapped against her body. The flimsy material acted as a kind of binding as Peter dropped his gaze to stare with vampirish hunger at her breasts in their lace bra.

  “Don't say anything. Stand as you are for a minute,” Peter said.

  The professional voice in Peter's head barked at him to stop, but he refused to comply. His integrity and his relationship with Joe melted into nothing compared to the fundamental drive he felt to take this woman the way he knew she needed to be taken.

  To get a good hard look at her, he took a step back. Under his gaze, she'd turned her head away, as if shy. The blush in her cheeks added to the intensity of the moment. Peter's cock filled with pulsing blood as he continued to stare at her breasts nestled in their black lace bra. She kept perfectly still.

  She's a natural, he thought. As I knew she would be.

  The surge of power, all too familiar to Peter, welled up in a tidal wave, consuming him. The force between them had her quivering, but Peter knew something extreme moved between them that shook them both. He needed to explore this potency, this connection. Now, however, they both needed action.

  He stepped forward, again moving in deliciously close, so their lips were almost touching. Reaching around behind her, he unclasped her bra at the back. Holding both ends tight, pulling them around to the front of her body, sliding the black straps from her shoulders, he lowered the bra to her wrists. Her exposed breasts looked vulnerable and enticing; large, creamy mounds of erotic flesh moved in a sensual manner with her gasping breath. Her face turned slightly to the side as she looked down, but Peter recognized the faint flush in her cheeks.

  Lifting his hands to her breasts, he tugged on each nipple. They grew in his hands as if reaching for him, responding beautifully to his masterful caresses.

  “How do you like your nipples pinched, Marianne? Soft or with more strength?” At first, only her swallows around her gentle panting constituted her response. When she spoke, it was in a ragged whisper.

  “I don't know. I think hard. How much will it hurt?”

  Gently caressing her breasts, Peter pulled again on the taut nipples, pinching them with a pressure lighter than he planned to use in the future. No need to give away all the surprises. As her head rolled back and she let out a moan, Peter knew he had her exactly where he wanted. He decided to push a little further.

  “I know you, Marianne. I see you. I know you're a good woman, but deep inside, you're also an insatiable slut who needs feeding.” She lifted her head a little to listen to his words. “Don't be afraid of what I'm saying. Let it wash over you.” He continued to work her breasts gently while tugging a little harder and pinching her nipples. Wrapped up in the ecstasy of the moment, Marianne's head fell back again.

  “You fear the power of the whore inside you and what she'd ask of you, but don't be worried with me. I admire the whore. I want to lure her out while I am in control. I'm going to use dirty talk with you now, Marianne. Is that okay with you?”

  Marianne let out another groan. She lifted her he
ad toward him, her eyes glazed over with lust. She attempted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

  “I will expect you to answer me when we play like this, Marianne. I'm taking over and giving you what you need, but I want feedback, and I will not proceed without it.”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I can handle dirty talk.”

  “Can I call you a slut? Will that offend you?”

  “No.”

  “Can I call you a whore? Will that offend you?”

  Peter watched her looking at him, a man she barely knew, lust pouring out of her, still frozen to the spot, her clothes acting to hold her arms to her side. No wonder she feared bringing this to the surface. In her previous environment, who knew where it would have taken her. Under the right kind of domination, she emerged, defenses down. “No, it won't offend me. I know it's part of sex.”

  Tendrils of her compliant spirit reached out for Peter with such insistence he felt compelled to push her further. Pounding waves of lust rose and rolled within, forcing him to take deep breaths to gain some control over himself. The issue of his emotional response and the intensity of connection could be tomorrow's problem. Tonight was only about feeding her through the tumult and gently handling the precious thing in his grasp. Patience, Peter. Look after her first. We'll play harder later.

  Peter took his hands off her breasts and pulled her dress down to her ankles, peeling the bra from her hands. Carefully, he draped the dress and the bra over the back of a chair. Without turning back, he added, “Play with your nipples, Marianne. I want them to stay long, and you'll need to keep them that way.”

  It looked as though she'd never done this before, but Peter thrilled to her obvious desire to impress him. Hesitatingly, Marianne moved her hands to her breasts and began to tug hard on her nipples. Peter turned to her and continued his instruction.