Striker
Page 13
I couldn’t have agreed more, so I turned the tube onto the Appetite Network and left her alone.
It took me about half an hour to complete the preparations for dinner. I had a tiny dining room, and rarely used it as I also had an eat-in kitchen. I debated over the two, but decided that a special dinner warranted the dining room, so I got everything set up there. I even found some emergency candles, and I put them in old beer bottles to set a tone. Homey, humble, but, I trusted romantic.
Angelica had nodded off during a reality cooking show, but I woke her gently and led her to the dining room. She smiled and her eyes twinkled in the candlelight. I seated her and took my chair and we began eating our Louie salads.
“Hey, this is good!”
“I’m glad you like it. If I cook regularly, you’ll be eating a lot of these.”
“Did you make the dressing from scratch?”
“Yeah. My mother taught me.”
“But she didn’t teach you how to cook more?”
“I’ll admit, I really didn’t have the patience or the interest growing up. I regret that. Especially when I have to heat prepared meals from the freezer.”
Her mouth was full, but she commented. “I can cook. I had to learn or go without food. I even enjoy it. Next dinner’s on me.”
I was awfully pleased that there would be a “next dinner” so I let that go.
We finished up our salads and each had a slice of strawberry cheesecake, procured at the grocery bakery department. Another glass of wine went with it, and although I wasn’t feeling it, I thought maybe Angelica was. Her whole demeanor had relaxed.
Throughout the cleanup we shared, she kept touching me. On the arm, the shoulder, twice a pat on the butt. I put the last dish away and pulled her into my arms. I wound her hair in my hands; it was thick and soft, smelled like flowers as I loosened it from its ponytail. At first our kiss was tender, but Angelica, always aggressive, encouraged me to much, much more. I ravaged her mouth toward the end, and we were both panting when we broke apart.
She leaned her forehead on my chest and whispered, “Can we fuck now?”
“Always the romantic,” I said with a chuckle. “I have a better idea: let’s make love.”
“Yeah, that too,” she said, looking up into my eyes. Her gaze was intense, gray eyes nearly smoky with what I hoped was desire. Certainly, I felt desire for her. In fact, my body was screaming for completion with her. I couldn’t remember my dick ever being so insistent before. But I had to think with the upper head, not the lower. This bout of love-making had to be just right.
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate for my plans, Angelica took that moment to reach down and rub the object that was frustrating my intentions. Her small hand on my cock was enough to trigger the crazy monkey-sex gene in me. I kissed her again, this time with little gentleness. She was my woman. I was going to take her. I was going to claim her and put her off-limits for any other man.
My hands went to her breasts, kneading them through her bra as she kneaded my stiff dick. She moaned softly, pressing herself into my hands, kissing me with raunchy enthusiasm.
I pulled off her blouse, her skirt, and her hose, but left her panties on. I loved the look of her there, innocent face and sensual body. Removing her hand from my raging hard-on, I dragged her into the bedroom. Thank Eros it wasn’t far away. I think I’d have thrown her down in the hall had it been even a few more feet distant.
She eagerly trotted next to me, giggling. Once we got into the room, her hands were all over me, unbuttoning my shirt, pulling off the rest of my clothes with complete disregard for the closures or the value of the items. I didn’t give a fuck. I wanted out of the garments that separated us. I wanted to feel her hot, naked skin against mine. I was burning up with need.
There was a long mirror on my closet door, and once naked, I pulled Angelica into my arms and positioned her with her back against my chest, facing the mirror. I pushed my hand into the front of her panties and slid a finger over her closed lips. Her moan was deep and eager and she squirmed against me. The movement of her ass against my cock nearly drove me insane, but at the same time, I loved the look of her reflected in the mirror. I cupped one of her breasts, and teased the nipple, my hand still working her wet pussy lips. I found her clit and rubbed it, gently at first, but at her whispered, “harder!” I applied a bit of pressure and speed and she groaned and squirmed.
I leaned down to breathe into her ear. “Sweet Angel wants to ride my cock, doesn’t she?”
“Yes!”
“Or should I fuck you from the front? Mount you and push deeply into your pussy?”
“Yes!”
“Did you want your legs around my waist or over my shoulders?”
“Jase!”
“Perhaps you’d rather I take your mouth. Shove my cock down your throat and let you lick it like a lollipop?”
She slugged me on the arm, and I chuckled. I wasn’t through teasing her, yet.
“Or maybe I should bend you over a chair and fuck your ass?”
“Stop asking your goddamned questions!”
“Now, now,” I said, nipping her earlobe. “Don’t get testy or you’ll get a spanking.”
Her pussy flooded with wetness, and her body flushed. Arousal was clear in nearly every aspect in her body, as seen in her reflection. So, spanking it would be, and then I’d give her the ride of her life.
I pulled her back toward the bed, our reflection getting smaller and smaller as we moved away. I tore her panties off, tossing the ruined garment onto the floor near my torn shirt. I sat on the bed and pulled her over my lap. My dick poked her in the belly, but she didn’t complain. Her breath came hard, but she didn’t struggle at all. She wanted this, every fiber of my being felt it. She wanted the hot ass I could—would—provide.
Once I got her positioned, I started off with a few gentle swats. She wriggled and arched her spine, encouraging me to make a greater impression. So I spanked. I concentrated all my efforts on one cheek until it was reddened, then moved to the other to make the colors match. Every few strokes, I’d smack the area where her thighs and bottom made a cross and those swats got a reaction, a moan and hiss, every time. As I progressed, I could smell her arousal, and saw the glistening moisture on that part of her pussy I could see. I applied more spanks, and more, until her ass was bright red and hot to the touch. When my hand got tired, I lifted her onto the bed, bottom up, and hurried to my desk to get a ruler. I made a mental note to keep the ruler closer to the bed in the future.
I manhandled her back onto my lap. The ruler made a much noisier impression. Not noise from the striking of her buttocks—although the whish in the air was satisfying—but the noises that came out of her mouth. She cried out with every stroke. Her bottom, already raw from my hand, got brighter yet, but, what I found amazing was that she didn’t try to get away, didn’t put her hands up to cover her ass, didn’t tell me to stop. Not once did I have the impression that she wanted me to quit. But, of course, I wasn’t going to bruise her, and continuing much more would do that, so I quit after a few wooden “kisses” to her thighs. The stripes were livid for a moment, but faded pretty quickly.
She was breathing hard, and I saw wet paths on her cheeks when I pulled her into my arms.
“Ouch,” she murmured.
“Maybe you should lie down,” I suggested. “On your belly.”
“No, I like it here on your lap. My ass hurts, but—pervert that I am—I like the burn.”
“You’re not a pervert, Angel. You like what you like, and so long as it doesn’t actually harm you, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I guess. Where did you learn to spank like that?”
“A gentleman never tells.”
She snorted. “My imagination will fill in the rest in much more sordid detail than anything you could tell me.”
I didn’t want to bring up past girlfriends, internet porn, or spanking magazines. So I let her comment go. I drew us both back o
nto the mattress fully and lay there beside her. My hard-on hadn’t decreased one iota, but some of the energy had been drawn into the redness of her ass. I felt it coming back, re-charging as I touched her, lying next to me. Her nipples were hard little candies and I played with them as she threw her leg over mine. I could feel the heat of her pussy against my thigh and once again, any desire I had to maintain control went out the window.
I rolled her onto my body as I lay there flat on the bed, and gave her one command. “Ride.”
Angelica didn’t need to be told twice. She mounted up quickly, her body sliding me into place as though I was made to be there. Maybe I was. It felt so right to be in her. I bucked when she came down fully and began to rock on my cock. I slid in and out of her, never quite leaving her pussy. Things got hot between us; I was burning, breathing hard, unable to quit bucking my encouragement for faster and harder movements from her. My hands, previously guiding her hips, moved to spread the pussy lips that I could see above our connection. Her clit was rosy and swollen. I took it between forefinger and thumb and gave it a squeeze. Angelica threw back her head and called out my name. She was on the edge; I’d have had to be a fool to miss it. As I worked her clit, I pulled one nipple. But it was hard to concentrate. I could feel the semen gathering, getting ready to fill her.
“I’m going to come,” she said on a moan.
“Do it,” I suggested. “Fuck me hard and then come.”
Incredibly, her movements sped up, and then I felt her pussy contract. It was my cue to let all the pressure of my balls release. I don’t think I could have held it back any longer. We both cried out guttural noises. I encouraged her to a few more finishing strokes and then she collapsed on my chest, both of us breathing hard with effort and satisfaction.
“I guess that’s what making love is really about, huh, Jase?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Can we do it again?”
“You’re ready for another spanking, I take it.”
“Well, maybe we can leave that part out for a few hours. My ass is still on fire.”
“Angel, you burn all of me up. I’m a cinder.”
“You’re my cinder, right?”
“Yours and always yours.”
“My Striker,” she mused. “I like that.”
“If you like it well enough, maybe you’ll move in?”
“Mmm. I could be persuaded.”
“Do you need to be coaxed?”
“You’re asking questions again, asshole.”
“Is that the way you talk to the man you love?”
“Yeah, seems like it. I’ve never been in love before.”
I swatted her hot ass and rolled her over onto her back. “I’ll teach you how it’s done, rookie.”
The End
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More Stormy Night Books by Patricia Green
Correcting Kathy
Kathy would never have imagined that one of the most embarrassing moments of her life could make her the envy of every girl at her small university, but after a stumble in the cafeteria leaves her blushing and Hal Emory drenched in soup, she is stunned when the incident ends with her meeting the young, handsome professor for dinner.
She is even more taken aback by the fact that he does not hesitate to lecture her over dinner about her smoking—a habit she has tried many times to break without success. When he offers to help her quit by means of ‘aversion therapy,’ she cannot resist the urge to learn more, and almost before she knows it she finds herself bent over the desk of this stern professor for a good, hard spanking.
After a subsequent chastisement leads to lovemaking that is as hard and hot as it is unexpected, both Kathy and Hal must decide if they want to pursue a romance. Can Hal leave the pain of the tragic death of his wife in the past and allow himself to fall in love with Kathy? Even if he does, will she be able to accept not only his love but also his guidance and, from time to time, his firm hand applied to her bare bottom?
The Princess and the Huntsman
Though she was once as sweet as she is beautiful, since her mother’s untimely passing Princess Brandywyn seems to grow brattier with every passing year… until the day she is waylaid by a band of ruffians and dragged away into the forest. She is taken far from her home, but at last she is rescued from the outlaws by a simple huntsman named Tom and her life is changed forever.
Neither Tom nor anyone else will believe that a girl dressed in rags could be a princess, and without the slightest idea of how to get home, Brandywyn finds herself with no choice but to accept Tom’s offer to share his cottage. The feisty nineteen-year-old princess soon learns, however, that Tom will not stand for being treated as a servant. To her horror, Brandywyn discovers that arrogance will earn her a good, hard spanking on her bare bottom, and that more serious misbehavior will result in even more humiliating punishment.
In spite of his strict discipline, Brandywyn begins to feel things for Tom that she has never felt before… things that make her blush with shame. A princess should not dream of being stripped bare and taken long and hard by a commoner, yet dream of it she does. But what will her answer be if he asks for her hand, and what will come of them if her father finds her and returns her to the palace? Can a princess not only lust for a huntsman, but love him as well?
Discipline Down Under
When her mother tires of supporting her during one half-hearted career pursuit after another, twenty-year-old Peggy Fisk is left with only one choice… to seek support from her father instead. He lives in Australia, but that fits just fine with her brand new plan for a career in nature photography. After running off two guides in her first month, however, Peggy is left with one last hope for a trip to the outback—a rancher-turned-bush-guide named Tripp Ruf.
Within seconds of laying eyes on Peggy, Tripp finds himself acting in the nick of time to prevent a snake bite. He is pretty sure things will only go downhill from there unless he puts his foot down and puts it down fast, and Tripp lets Peggy know that he will be the only boss on this trip. He also warns the beautiful, sassy American that careless behavior will earn her a sound spanking, but if her cute little behind ends up bared over his lap, Tripp fears that his biggest problem won’t be the dangers of the outback, it will be keeping his desire for her in check.
It isn’t long before Peggy puts Tripp’s word to the test and learns that a hard spanking delivered by a work-roughened hand is nothing to be taken lightly, but in spite of his strict discipline and his brash arrogance, Peggy grows more and more attracted to her rugged, handsome protector as the days pass. Can she dare to hope that her time with Tripp will leave her with more than just memories, or will it all end in heartbreak for the feisty American and the firm-handed Aussie?
Patricia Green Links
You can find author interviews, excerpts of upcoming books, and general thoughts from Patricia Green via her blog, her Facebook and Twitter pages, and her Goodreads profile, using the following links:
http://patriciagreenauthor.com/
http://www.facebook.com/Patricia.Green.Romance
https://twitter.com/PatriciaIGreen
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541511.Patricia_Green
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
&nbs
p; Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
More Stormy Night Books by Patricia Green
Patricia Green Links