The Strong, Silent Type

by Patricia Green

  She was blubbering and gasping. "Okay! Oh, God, Dom, you're hurting me!"

  "I hope I'm hurting you, Virginia. That's your problem, I haven't hurt you this way enough. No one has. You've had this coming for years."

  "I'm sorry! Oh!" She cried deeply.

  Dom stopped for a moment and looked over at Drake. "Enough?"

  "Well..."

  His smile wasn't one of pleasure. "A few more, in that case."

  Dom applied his hand again and again, until Virginia was exhausted, a limp rag doll in her husband's lap. Her tears were copious, her sniffles and gasps abject. When he stopped, he gave her a little shove and she plopped down on the floor.

  "Pull up your pants and tell Drake you're sorry."

  She stood quickly and pulled up her panties and slacks.

  "I'm sorry, Drake. It was nasty of me."

  She looked sincere, and Drake figured she'd learned a lesson and wouldn't be inclined to risk the same punishment again. He grunted his acceptance.

  Satisfied with the exchange, Dom spoke up."Now, get out of my office, Virginia. I don't want to see you until dinner time. And dinner will be on time, tonight. No excuses. I don't want to hear about how you broke a fingernail or stubbed your toe."

  "Y-yes, Dom."

  "Out." The men watched her hurry out of the office, eyes still streaming, nose almost as red as her bottom. Once she'd closed the door behind her, Dom sank back in his chair.

  "I'm sorry you had to see that," he told Drake.

  "No apologies necessary. I'd have done the same thing."

  "You would, would you?"

  Drake nodded. "Gotta do what works."

  "It was too long in coming, which is entirely my fault." He pressed two fingers to his temple and rubbed. "Say, if you need any help with the town council regarding this thing you've begun with Mae, you let me know. Several of the council members owe me favors."

  Drake smiled and rose. "Thanks. I'll take you up on that offer if it's needed."

  Dominic led Drake out of the house, where the only sign of Virginia was the clattering of implements in the kitchen.

  Chapter Six

  "Dinner tonight, babe?"

  Mae looked around the convenience store. A few tourists were scattered amongst the shelves and cooler cases, but no one from town was there to overhear her phone conversation.

  "Should we risk it, Drake?"

  "The Virginia thing is resolved."

  "It is?" Virginia was tenacious; did Drake realize how much so? "How'd you do it?"

  "I talked man-to-man with Dominic."

  Ah. So Dominic did wear the pants in that family. Mae had been wondering for years as Virginia seemed to stray more and more visibly at community events. "He tole her ta cut it out, huh?"

  "Sure did. She learned a lesson. I don't think either of us will have problems with her."

  "Good! Thank you, Drake!"

  "You're welcome, Mae. So...dinner?"

  He was eager to see her which delighted Mae through-and-through. "Okay. But aren't you tired? You said you were up all night. If I was up all night, I'd be pretty tired by now. They say some people don't need that much sleep, but I'm not one of them. What I mean ta say is..." She got flustered. "You know, I forgot what I was getting at."

  He laughed. "How does eight o'clock sound? That'll give me a few hours to take a nap."

  "Okay. Where?"

  "You know where my house is?"

  "Yeah, I think I do."

  He gave her the address anyway and she wrote it down. "I'll cook for you. Stuffed zucchini flowers."

  "Wow. I had no idea you were a gourmet chef. You watch those cooking shows on TV? I watch them sometimes, and in fact I just got this terrific lasagna recipe from...oh who is that chef? You know, the guy with the dyed blond hair and the pointy chin...Um..."

  "Mae. Eight o'clock, okay?"

  She felt her cheeks heat. She'd gone off track again. "Right. Eight. Should I bring anything? Like wine or pretzels or, maybe some of those little--"

  "How about that box of condoms?"

  Now her face really flamed. A tourist walked up to pay for some chips and gave her a strange look. "Okay. I'll bring...that. Hafta go now. See ya then!"

  * * *

  Mae parked in front of Drake's little house precisely at seven fifty-eight and sat there admiring it for a minute. The yard was so tidy, xeriscaped carefully to use as little water as possible. Healthy cacti were sprinkled in with some low mesquite and rosemary.

  The house was freshly painted white, with green shutters, and a shade-awning over the green front door. White vertical blinds hung open in the windows. It looked well-cared for and homey.

  She fluffed her hair, grabbed her purse and plastic bag, and made her way to the front door.

  Drake greeted her with a big smile. He looked so handsome, wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt with the football logo for UNLV. He had an oven-mitt on his right hand, which he left on when he hugged her.

  It felt right being in his arms with her head pressed against his broad chest.

  When they broke, Mae got a chance to look around. It was a pleasant house, open and airy, with pale, butter yellow leather seating and glass tables. A pair of torchieres stood sentinel near cushy chairs, just right for reading. He had a large-screen TV across from the couch, and a satellite stereo setup beneath it. The glass coffee table was shiny clean, with a Sports Illustrated and--of all things--the latest issue of Hunka Chunka. Mae looked from the magazine glaring there to Drake's face and he grinned. She got hot all over and knew that she must be blushing to the roots of her red hair.

  "You're proud of yourself, aren't you?" she said with a sniff.

  "Hey, I got the idea from you!"

  "I never...I mean ta say...I was bored, and I found it somewhere...and..."

  "You found it somewhere: in your mailbox."

  She bit her lower lip wondering if she should go on denying it. Heck, he already knew she liked spanking, why not admit to being curious about other things as well? "Okay, you got me. I'm a pervert."

  He laughed. "You're my pervert."

  She grinned. That declaration felt mighty nice. "What smells so good?"

  "Chicken mousse-stuffed zucchini flowers, fresh green beans and salad."

  "Oh, I almost forgot!" She held out the plastic bag. He took it with his oven mitted hand and opened it.

  "Condoms and wine." He smiled devilishly. "Well, I don't drink, but I do use condoms. Thank you."

  "You don't drink? I'm sorry. I should have brought something else. I didn't know."

  "My dad was an alcoholic. I don't drink; never have."

  "Oh! Well, gosh." She thought highly of him for being so restrained. Alcoholism ran in some families. "I'll take it back ta the store."

  "I can use it for cooking. A little at a time. And the alcohol burns off while things cook. It won't be wasted." He gestured to the dining room. "Come in and sit down. Things are about ready."

  She sat at the modest, maple dining table. The settings were somewhat utilitarian, but there were bright blue paper napkins and a vase of daisies on the table. It was pretty, but masculine.

  Dinner was wonderful. He was a superb cook. And while they ate, they got to know each other a little better. He was more forthcoming than ever before, offering more than grunts most of the time. He would never be called a chatterbox, as she sometimes was, but he did have a story or two to tell. Mae tried not to monopolize the conversation or make too many verbal faux pas, but she felt like he accepted her just the way she was, even if she did talk too much.

  After dinner, she helped him clean up, and they retired to the living room couch. He used a remote to put on some music, and they snuggled up together, quiet and warm.

  He stroked her hair and held a few locks to his nose. "You smell like mint."

  "Shampoo is a wonderful thing," she teased.

  He grunted.

  "Can I kiss you?"

  "Yes."

  She pressed up a litt
le and captured his chiseled face in her hands, bringing her lips up to meet his. He wasn't shy about returning her kiss, allowing her to explore a little first, but then deepening their intimacy with vigor. Mae felt his evening stubble on her chin, but she didn't mind. It was masculine and all Drake. As they paused to take a breath, she glided her fingertips over his lips and up the plane of his face toward his hairline. When she cupped his cheek, he turned and kissed her palm.

  Mae felt her nipples hardening and a buzz beginning in her core. When he leaned toward her to press kisses on her ear and down the side of her neck, she sighed with pleasure. Little bites traveling down toward her shoulder made her moan softly and squirm.

  He smelled like soap and shaving lotion. No cologne for Drake, just a light, spicy clean scent.

  Her heart swelled with love and lusty attraction. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but she was afraid to ruin the moment or make him uncomfortable with her.

  Instead, she arched back and offered her hard-tipped breasts. He reached behind her neck and untied the straps to her halter dress, peeling the bodice down until her breasts were free. His fingers roamed over them slowly, in gentle circles before he cupped them and gave them a squeeze.

  His big hands were warm on her heated flesh; the pressure of his squeeze was almost painful, but not quite. When his thumbs found her nipples and began to worry them, Mae felt the buzz in her womb become a growing riptide of need that was ready to pull her under.

  She moaned and whispered his name. His answer was to take her mouth again and unzip the short zipper on her backless dress. "I like this dress."

  "I have two like this. The other one is blue with yellow flowers. Although, I like this one with the blue flowers better. I think it goes with my eyes better, but the other one goes with my--"

  "Mae," he said on a soft laugh. "Shh."

  "Sorry." Mae let her hands roam over his broad chest, her palms finding and testing his hard nipples poking his t-shirt.

  "Slip out of your dress and I'll forgive you."

  She grinned and stood, shimmying out of the dress with sexy undulations of her hips.

  He grunted when she revealed her blue cotton bikini panties.

  Suddenly, she was shy. Did he think she was unattractive, standing there in her boring panties, with her big butt showing? "Drake, I--"

  "Hush." He reached for her panties and slowly peeled them off until they lay on the floor at her feet. "Perfect," he said.

  Although he'd seen her naked before, she felt a little uncomfortable. What was she supposed to do with her hands? Should she stand there, or sit again? Maybe she needed to level the playing field.

  "Why don't you get naked, too, Drake?"

  His eyes roved over her again, then he stood and pulled his t-shirt off. Muscles rippled in his biceps and hairless chest. His abs were firm. Mae wanted to touch him, but she wanted to see him out of his pants, first.

  As he reached for his belt buckle, Mae covered his hands. "Let me. You undressed me, now let me undress you."

  His response was an affirmative noise.

  Carefully, Mae divested him of his jeans, and every inch of him that was revealed made her body anxious to see more. He was going commando, which made him that much sexier. Her pussy was wet, eager, screaming for attention. When Drake's big erection sprang free, she felt like she might drown from the liquid sensation deep inside.

  Once he was naked, she knelt at his feet and slid her hands up his thighs toward his dick. She stroked it gently, then more firmly, and reveled in the soft exhalation of air that signaled his pleasure. Mae looked up at his face and found him watching her, his black eyes inscrutable. She wasn't sure if she should take him in her mouth or not.

  It felt so good to touch him. She watched his face as she pumped slowly and steadily.

  "Do it, Mae."

  She nodded and, starting at the base of his rod, she licked one long stroke until she got to the tip of its bulbous head. Her tongue went 'round the knob and then back down. Drake put his hands in her hair and encouraged her with little tugs to go faster.

  When she'd worked up to a rhythm, she caught him panting, and her heart expanded with the knowledge that she was pleasing him. He was under her spell. Temporarily, to be sure, but for these few moments, he needed her, wanted what she had to give.

  She took him into her mouth and he groaned, pressing his hips forward so that he sank across her tongue and into her throat. His grip on her hair helped her learn the rhythm he wanted, and she plied her tongue and mouth mercilessly.

  "Enough," he said on a low-throated gasp. He tugged on her hair and then pushed her face away gently. "I want to be inside you when I come, Mae."

  She'd like that, too. Her chin was wet, so she wiped it with his t-shirt.

  He held out his hand. "Into the bedroom."

  "Alright."

  He drew her with him into the master bedroom. It was a simple room, with a king-sized iron bedstead and some white-painted chests of drawers. The bed was draped in a hand-made quilt in a basket weave pattern.

  Mae pressed her hand on the beautiful cover and looked up at him, asking a silent question.

  "My mother made it. It's based on a Paiute basket pattern."

  "It's so pretty."

  He pulled it off the bed carefully. "I don't want to stain it with come."

  Mae's cheeks flamed at the idea of a wet spot from their joining. Of course there would be one. She was being silly, she decided. It's not like she was a virgin or anything. None of this should embarrass her.

  She crawled onto the blue fleece blanket.

  "Stop."

  She looked back over her shoulder.

  "Stay like that, on your hands and knees."

  Was he going to spank her? Should she ask? The thought added to the tension in her pussy. She wanted to feel his calloused palm on her ass. She wanted the sting and the heat. She decided that a little encouragement was okay, and she wiggled her butt in invitation.

  He laughed and gave her a swat. "Hold on." Drake turned and left the room, but came back quickly.

  "Put your face down, and leave your ass up, babe."

  She obeyed, though she couldn't see him at all from this position. He was behind her, kneeling on the bed a moment later. Once again he swatted her. It stung and her breath caught, but she wanted more. A little wriggling was rewarded by several more slaps. Her bottom was beginning to get warm.

  "More. Please, more."

  His answer was to spank her harder, building up a rhythm on her ass cheeks and thighs. After a few minutes, she felt like her butt was on fire. Tears wet the blanket under her face and she was panting and mewling, unable to vocalize more than animal sounds.

  "Your ass is bright red, Mae." He spanked it more, and in between her cries of pleasure-pain, she could hear him breathing hard.

  When he stopped she moaned her disappointment. She thought if he'd just keep spanking, just another minute, she'd come like a firecracker explosion.

  A foil crackle came from behind her, and a moment later she felt his hardness rubbing along her sopping pussy lips. He slid over her swollen folds until she began to whimper. She wanted more!

  He spanked her again several times and then slowly slid his prick into her hot sheath. She knew she was tight; she could feel her body's effort to expand to accommodate him. It had been quite a while since she felt the fullness of a man in her quim. It was wonderful, sensual, exciting.

  Drake sighed deeply when he'd filled her. "Mae."

  "It feels good, Drake. Really good."

  He spanked her again and matched the spanks to the quickening rhythm of his thrusts. Mae pressed her face into the blanket and sobbed, so anxious to reach her peak, and so close.

  She felt like her ass had a phosphorus burn, a burn so hot that her skin would melt, painful and yet, somehow it excited her more than she'd ever been excited before. This was Drake inside her, Drake smacking her with his hard hand, Drake panting as he thrust.

  "Oh, Go
d, Drake..." The bottom seemed to drop out from under her while her whole body burst and flew into a thousand pieces. The orgasm cascaded over her and she screamed.

  Drake held her hips with both hands and pistoned hard and fast, finally thrusting deep enough to encounter her cervix. His groan brought on another orgasmic surge from Mae, something rounder and softer, but still quite strong. She could feel his pulsing in her, even through the latex glove. The rhythm was like a sexy heartbeat deep inside her.

  They panted together, Mae's tears drying on the fleece, Drake's fingers loosening on her hips.

  Slowly, he pulled out of her, and Mae couldn't help but collapse on the bed.

  He left her for a moment, but when he came back he lay on the bed beside her and took her in his arms.

  "We may have ta buy another box of condoms," she pointed out.

  He laughed softly and hugged her tight.

  * * *

  They dozed for a few minutes, not really asleep, but comfortable with each other now that the worst of their tension had been relieved. As Drake became more alert he stroked Mae's side and her breast. She was so sexy, with her pert breasts and full hips. Her ass was ripe, round and she wasn't hesitant about wanting it spanked. He had encountered more than a few women over the years, but Mae was exceptional. As he tickled the hardening tip of her breast, she sighed and opened her eyes. Her emotions were written all over her face, in the soft pout of her lips, the warm directness of her gaze, the gentle curve of her cheeks in a sleepy smile. She was a little bit in love with him.

  His heart surged at the thought that she might return his deep feelings. It made him much less self-conscious about telling her how he felt. He weighed the risks. He might be wrong about how she felt. She might grow uncomfortable with his revelation and break off their relationship. She might laugh at him, though that seemed very unlike Mae. She might tell him that she was flattered, but she'd rather they just be friends and casual fuck-buddies. That last would be the worst, he thought. But, on the other hand, she might just tell him that she loved him too. Her face might light up with joy. She might sigh with relief that he had the courage to say it first when she had been shy about it. It might be words that bonded them together.