by Amy Brent
“Wait here,” I commanded her.
Although there wasn’t really any need. The way Kathryn’s head drooped back into the bed, she was practically overtaken with desire already.
When I took out the handcuffs, the shine in Kathryn’s eyes was greater than that on the cuffs. I closed one handcuff around her wrist and the other around the tall wooden bedpost. I arranged her so that her back was to me.
The curved concave of her back was both tensed and slack, awaiting what I would do next.
Reaching over, I withdrew the whip from my bedside table. I fingered it excitedly. This was going to be good.
When I finally lashed Kathryn with the whip, a shiver ran down her spine. I kissed the base of it, right above her ass.
“You like that?”
I whipped her ass again before she could answer.
“What was that?” I hissed as I lay my entire body over hers.
“Yes,” she groaned, her body shaking with the truth of her answer.
Angling my cock, I squeezed it between her ass cheeks, teasing her with my boner. In response, Kathryn hoisted up her ass so that I had easy access to the other hole that needed attention.
At first, I only slid my hard rod against her wet hole, not actually inserting it.
In vain, Kathryn tried getting her wet walls around my pole. I moved back. Her whole body jerked back uselessly. The bed creaked its victory. Kathryn was handcuffed in place. She would have to endure my taunting, and there wasn’t a thing in the world she could do about it.
“We’re going at my pace,” I growled as I smacked her with my rock-hard boner. “Remember that.”
A desperate cry spilled out of Kathryn.
“Please.”
Finally, I took pity on her. I ground my dick into her deeper so that just the tip peaked in. Both of our bodies shook with gratification at the entrance. As Kathryn’s pussy desperately clasped at the already retreating dick, I gave her ass another rough smack.
“When are you going to learn to follow the rules?”
After one last desperate flail of her body, Kathryn collapsed onto the bed hopelessly.
Then, my hand intertwining in her hair, I eased myself in.
As I swept my dick into her, I yanked her head back so I could whisper in her ear. “Good girl.”
My words, or maybe it was my dick, sent another tremor through her.
When my cock finally hit the back of her pussy, both of us clenched ourselves there, shaking with the power of it. Aroused irritation coiled within me. How was it that five minutes into fucking this woman I could already blow my load if I wanted to?
I swirled out and then back into her. Kathryn’s body responded eagerly. The woman fucked like it was the last time she’d get to in her life, as if thought had been completely extinguished, given way to whatever instinct ordered. She was just as into this is I was, maybe even more.
The next sweet, slow thrust of my throbbing dick wrung more weak cries out of her throat.
Already, it felt like my dick was swimming in a tight glove. Could Kathryn come right now too if I pushed her a little?
To test my theory, I rapped the underside of her ass with the whip. Simultaneously, I increased the pace of my thrusts ten times over. As expected, Kathryn’s whole body wriggled with an oncoming orgasm.
I froze.
“No!” Kathryn cried, her pussy clasping around my dick defiantly.
I peeled myself out, kissed her shaking shoulder.
Raking my fingers through her hair, I brought my lips to her ear.
“What did I say about us going at my pace?”
Furiously, Kathryn thrust out her ass, grinding it onto my boner. The woman wasn’t making this easy on me. If she wanted to play the game, fine. She was soon going to find out there were no winners but me.
As I shoved my raging erection back into her, her body reacted joyously. Slumping onto the bed, all her motion was focused on that gleefully clasping and rotating pelvis. For every one of my pussy-shattering slams, she angled herself a bit differently so that each thrust was refreshingly transformed.
I gritted my teeth. Clearly, Kathryn was trying to speed things along, but I hadn’t had my fill of her. Not yet.
When our different-angled, rough body smearing got Kathryn trembling again, I eased myself out.
“Eric!” she sputtered in fury.
I smirked as she twisted her head to glare at me. As my dick played around the outer lips of her pussy, I gave her angrily jiggling ass a nice big whack.
“Not yet, bitch.”
My blow only seemed to drill Kathryn’s pleasure deeper. A newfound moan rolled out of her throat.
As she lay there, utterly helpless, I ran my raging erection down the length of her, from the base of her neck all the way down to the trembling hollow of her back until, finally, I reached it: the wet hole that was franticly waiting for me.
With one brutal ram, I stuffed her. An almost choking sound of gratification rolled out of her. I ground my dick in deeper.
“It’s time.”
My dick aching for what I was about to do, I threw myself into thrusting with abandon. Giving her ass a resounding smack, I drilled her. In and out. A bit to the left, a bit to the right. Fast and faster.
My body was looped in motion, and it was harder to stop than to keep on going. For her part, Kathryn’s body was wracked with groaning sobs of sensation. Shakes joined and took over her entire flailing form.
I came in her. As my dick finally, gloriously, spurted out its ecstasy, so too did she shriek with her own release. Even after I emptied myself, my dick twitched a few times more in the remembered motion, sending a finale of another slighter orgasm through her.
Afterward, wrapped around her unconscious form, it occurred to me that something wasn’t right. But I had no idea what it was.
Chapter 11
Kathryn
Oh, shit.
As I gazed into Eric’s half-open blue eyes, I wondered when the judge’s mallet would fall—when he would realize I had slept over, which he’d expressly forbade me from doing.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, seeing my face.
Scrambling upright, I turned my head to search for my dress before remembering that Eric had stripped me downstairs.
“I’m really sorry about sleeping over,” I said quickly. “It won’t happen again.”
When I glanced at Eric, he didn’t look mad, only amused.
“Hmmm. I thought something was a bit off about this.”
“Seriously,” I said, getting up. “I can just leave now.”
Eric cocked his head at me, as if he were considering my proposition.
“You know what?” he said. “Don’t bother. I’m hungry. We can have breakfast together.”
I made for the door.
“Want me to cook? I can make a mean bacon and eggs.”
Again, Eric cocked his head at me. He rose.
“No. It’s fine.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “I forgot that billionaires have cooks. Though I still better get my clothes on before your cook shows up.”
Eric laughed.
“I do have a cook, but it’s his day off. I was thinking I could make you something.” His eyes swept down my bare body, obvious enjoying what they saw.
“No clothes required.”
Smiling in spite of myself, I sighed.
“Is that an order?”
Eric walked up to me, looking down into my face with fire smoldering in his icy eyes.
“Do you want it to be?”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I’m most at home when I’m wearing clothes believe it or not.”
Eric started walking down the hallway, waving at me to follow him.
“I guess I can believe that. Although your behavior last night”—a greedy smile swept over his lips—“suggested otherwise.”
“I had a good time too,” I said simply.
Eric didn’t say anything more, only continued leading me to the kitchen. From behind, I got to take in his great man ass. Toned and shapely, I couldn’t resist reaching out to squeeze it.
Eric paused to laugh.
“You’re an ass girl?”
“I am,” I admitted. “My best friend, Sadie, always teases me about it.”
Eric’s lips curled with a slightly perturbed expression.
“It does make me wonder if you’ve just been using me all this time for my ass.”
Laughing, I spanked it.
“Got me.”
Eric stooped down to give me a smacking kiss.
“Knew it.”
By now, we had reached the kitchen, which looked even cleaner and more impressive than I remembered it being. The blue-tiled marble countertop looked like something out of a Martha Stewart catalog, while his fridge looked like it was some futuristic year 3000 prototype. Nevertheless, I tore myself away and headed toward the door where we’d flung off my clothes.
There was no way I’d be able to think even half clearly unless I was dressed. Once I’d pulled the fancy thing on and gone to the bathroom, I returned to find Eric already a good way through breakfast.
“Feels a bit weird,” I admitted, gesturing to the skintight velvet dress, “wearing this in the early morning.”
“Come here,” Eric said abruptly.
A bit taken aback, I complied nevertheless. As he tended to the bacon sizzling lusciously in a frying pan, he ran his hand over the velvet fabric over my breasts.
“You’re right,” he declared. “Totally weird.”
As he chuckled, I elbowed him in the side.
“In a more serious vein,” he continued, throwing a smile my way, “do you have any plans today? I’m supposed to stop by my parents. They’re always bothering me about not having settled down with anyone. We could visit them and they wouldn’t have to know you’re my mistress. That should get them off my case for a few months at least.”
I paused, my gaze going to the space between the blue tiles at the base of Eric’s kitchen counter. Should I say yes? This could be an opportunity to find out more about Eric, to dig deeper. Because frankly, my in-depth undercover search was uncovering less than I’d like.
But something was holding me back from saying “yes” as automatically and as easily as I’d initially wanted to. Perhaps it was that fact itself, that immediately upon hearing Eric’s invitation, I had wanted to say yes.
“No pressure,” Eric said quickly. “I know it seems like a big deal, but really it isn’t. My parents are pretty laid back. They won’t bother you with a million questions or anything.”
“All right,” I said, smiling back at him. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“Which is?” Eric asked, turning to me with one raised brow.
“That you let me go home, shower, and change.”
Eric pouted moodily.
“Oh, but I was so looking forward to them secretly wondering if my girlfriend was a mistress.”
Glaring at him, I stuck out my tongue.
“This dress does not make me look like a mistress!”
“When you wear it without a bra and your nipples and ass are poking out, it kinda does,” Eric said, tapping my one velvet-covered, poked-out nipple with his finger.
“All right,” I conceded, backing away, “but with a bra and underwear…”
“Come on,” Eric said, transferring the bacon to a round glass plate, “it is pretty fancy for just a casual day meeting my parents.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I agree one hundred percent. I should wear what I wore for our first date.”
Locking eyes, remembering the skintight, ass-short dress I’d worn, Eric and I cracked up.
“Anyway, of course it is fine if you want to stop by your place to get freshened up,” Eric said, extending the plate of bacon to me. “But first, eat.”
“Yes, sir,” I said cheekily, conveying the plate to the table.
There, we made quick work of the tasty, crispy bacon as well as the succulent eggs Eric had cooked a few minutes earlier.
At my place, luckily Sadie wasn’t there, as usual. The guy she was seeing, Marlow, lived right near the tattoo parlor, and she’d been spending more nights there than not lately. It made sense since she was working almost 24/7 at this point.
In this case, her absence was particularly convenient. With the first step into my apartment, I almost sighed outright in relief. It was one thing to lie to Eric myself, but to see my best friend try to dance around the truth? It was risky at best.
While I took a shower, Eric kept banging on the door until I let him in the bathroom. There, he couldn’t resist coming into the little glass-walled shower with me.
“Isn’t there a set time you were supposed to be over at your parents?” I asked him as he kissed the beads of water that had fallen on my shoulders.
“Good point,” he said, backing away. “One hour ago now that you mention it, although my parents aren’t sticklers for being on time like I am.”
After my comment, Eric thankfully left me mostly alone as I buzzed around, drying myself off and getting my things in order. When I emerged in a plain black T-shirt and some snug-fitting light wash jeans, Eric stared at me a good long while before speaking.
“What have you done with Kathryn?”
“Killed her and stashed the body underneath the bed. Want to look?”
Dumbly, Eric nodded his head. Hand-in-hand, I led him into my bedroom. Then, crouching on the floor, I lifted the black bed skirt to reveal below my bed.
“You turned her into a police badge?” Eric said, his eyes adjusting to the dark faster than mine.
Shit. On the floor under my bed was my forgotten old police badge. I’d kept it in my room as a happy keepsake and had wondered where it had gotten to during my latest cleaning spree.
A strangled laugh came out of my lips.
“My Halloween costume,” I explained hurriedly.
Eric seemed to accept my excuse without any further comment. Looking me up and down again, he said, “Seriously, though, are you sure your outfit isn’t too sexy for my parents?”
For a minute, I eyed myself dubiously. After all, the T-shirt I was wearing wasn’t exactly loose. I paused to hear Eric snickering.
“The most gullible person in the world,” he said with obvious amusement.
“I am not,” I argued. “If you had any idea—” I cut myself off, cursing inwardly again.
A few nights of less-than-stellar sleep and I was practically blowing my whole cover with this man? Chill, Kathryn.
“If I had any idea what?” Eric said, eyeing me curiously.
“I’ll have you know that I won the most realistic liar award in 6th grade,” I informed him.
An even more amused smile played on his face.
“What school did you go to?”
“An art school,” I said helpfully.
“Figures,” Eric said, patting my shoulder. “Of course you did. You are a writer after all.”
“Yes,” I echoed, softly, “a writer.”
Eric’s parents lived in a nice area of New York City in the suburbs, where the roads were long and meandering and every house was a different architectural style. Theirs was hometown American hospitality at its finest in the colonial style. The bricks were gray while the white shutters were adorned with flourishing blue hyacinths. It took me a minute before I joined Eric walking up the sidewalk.
“People always tell me my parents’ place belongs in a magazine, and it was featured in one once,” Eric said thoughtlessly, “but to me it’s just home.”
We were on the first step of the stone porch when the ivory front door flew open.
“Eric!” an ecstatic blond lady cried. She stood on her tiptoes to throw her hands around his upper arms since he was a good head taller than her at least. While they greeted and grinned at each other, I quickly surveyed her. Her chin-length, blunt-cut hair and slightly crinkled blu
e eyes oozed “well-bred housewife,” and her gingham apron sealed the deal.
“And there is our speech-making son,” a tall man from behind her said, raising his arms to Eric. “We heard all about it from the Stevensons.”
As Eric embraced his dad, who had the exact same hair and chiseled chin as he did. Eric’s mom turned her attention to me.
“Is this—?”
“This is Kathryn,” Eric said, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
My stuck-out hand was enveloped as Eric’s mom threw her arms around me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eileen and my husband is Joe.”
As soon as I was released from her rose-smelling hug, I was enveloped by another, a strong one with harder arms. Joe, Eric’s dad, smelled like Old Spice.
Afterward, we all stood there awkwardly for a minute. Eric’s parents were eyeing me like I could be the second coming of Christ—or Satan.
“We can help paint,” Eric broke in abruptly.
Bird-like laughter fluttered out of his mother’s pink lips.
“Oh, don’t worry about that!” she said, hooking her arm in his. “First, let’s have lunch.”
Over a meal of roast beef and mashed potatoes, Eric, his parents, and I all chatted about a variety of topics. Once we finished our meals, his mom strode in with a platter of brownies and what looked to be a photo book tucked under her arm.
“Thought you might want to see this,” she said to me, although her wink was directed at Eric.
“Mom,” Eric groaned, sounding exasperated.
Setting the metal platter on the table and doling out one brownie to each of us, his mother’s patrician features remained nonplussed.
“Kathryn probably wants to see these, Eric,” she said in a slightly scolding tone. “Don’t be so selfish.”
Eric said nothing as she opened the album to a random page.
“Now what do you think of that one!” Eric’s dad crowed, flicking his thumb at one picture in particular.
My heart burst. There, in the far right photograph in the album, was Eric. He must have been all of two years old. He was buck naked and wearing a blue and gold policeman’s hat.