SHORT AND SWEET
A COLLECTION OF FIVE EROTIC STORIES
Edited by Miranda Forbes
Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2011
ISBN 9781908192073
These stories have also been published in
Best of Both ISBN 9781907761669
Copyright © Xcite Books Ltd 2011
The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
Winner of Jade Erotic Awards:
Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010
"Xcite has delighted its readers with a wealth of superb titles and first class storytelling. Their titles have far outstripped the others for both quality of the product and sensual erotic content."
Contents
Short And Sweet Sommer Marsden
A Cut Above Izzy French
Barbecue Landon Dixon
The Window Cleaner Eva Hore
Dream World Tony Haynes
Short And Sweet
by Sommer Marsden
‘Take your break and make it fast,’ Mr Johnson said. ‘Make it short and sweet.’
I eyed Ryan and felt the small leap of blood in my veins. I held my breath – waited – as Ryan said to our boss, ‘Just Poppy or …’
‘Both of yas. Go on. Make it fast.’
Heat coursed through my veins. It had only been a few weeks that Ryan and I had been making the most of our breaks, so to speak, but much like Pavlov’s dog, I immediately warmed to hear the word break.
‘We will,’ I mumbled. I headed toward the ladies’ room and Ryan headed to the break room. We’d hook up in the teeny tiny anteroom that was only used to hold supplies. I fluffed my hair, smiled at myself in the mirror, felt my pussy grow slick and wet as my heart galloped in my chest.
‘Calm, Poppy,’ I told myself, applying deep red lipstick and using my fingertips to pull straight black bits of hair down to kiss my cheekbones. Better.
After I’d counted to 150, I sauntered to the break room, past the small tables and into the tiny back room that no one ever used. It was really just a glorified closet.
‘There she is. Get your pants down,’ Ryan growled so softly it was like a gritty whisper.
The tiny hairs on my nape tingled with excitement and I crushed myself to him, kissing him once for luck. A rough needy kiss that let him know I was desperate for him. The days since my break up had been too long, the days since his had been even longer. We were friend, confidante, drug of choice and emotion tamer for each other. A good set up, if you must know.
‘I will, I will. But why? What ya want to do to me?’ I teased, even as I ran my hand up the hard hump of his cock in his pants. I kissed his neck, inhaling the dark scent of him. Smoke and cold air and woody notes that made me think of camping.
‘Anything I can manage in 30 minutes.’
He spun me and my blood tingled in my veins, my stomach dipped and I sighed out a long breath, bracing myself on the small counter, mostly overloaded with paper napkins and boxes of plastic eating utensils for the café. I splayed my fingers, my black-red nail polish gleaming in the meagre light. He was yanking my pants down with brutish eager yanks. His fingers found my cunt and he thrust once and once was all it took for my knees to sag a bit.
‘Oh, jeeze,’ I breathed.
‘Oh jeeze, is right. You’re such a little whore. So, so wet, Poppy girl.’
I smiled, bit my lip, pressed my bottom back toward him to open my pussy for more of Ryan. God, how this man knew what he was doing. Fingers, tongue, cock – Ryan knew how to work me. Small strands of hair licked at my forehead, tickling me so I shivered. I brushed my bangs back as he slipped another finger into me, curling his digits slowly so he ignited that small bundle of nerves that made my nipples spike and my skin pebble with gooseflesh.
‘Wet little Poppy … needs to be fucked.’
It wasn’t a question but I said yes anyway. He chuckled darkly and his zipper purred in my ears.
‘Stop with the small talk and do me,’ I ordered, but there was laughter in my voice. I could never pull off the bad girl dirty talk.
‘Right. Let’s get on with the nasty stuff, then.’ Ryan’s fingers gripped my hips and he pushed the tip of his cock to my wet entrance. I put my head down, holding my breath, waiting for him to enter me – fill me up and take me under where I felt peaceful and wanted and alive.
‘Ry …’ I whispered, gripping the counter.
‘Impatience,’ he sighed, but he thrust harder like I needed and filled me with his hard length. ‘There. Better?’ His fingers tripped softly up the knobs of my spine and then he smoothed circles with the palm of his hand. The sound of his skin on mine was a secretive sound.
‘Yes, better.’ I rocked back to take him deeper, my fingers, slick and fumbling, found my clit and I discovered my rhythm. The first orgasm was rushing toward me like a fireball. It had been a few days, I was so eager. I’d been anticipating time alone all day. My body was ready and warm for him the moment our boss had ordered a break.
‘Come on, I can feel it. Give it to me,’ Ryan said. He feathered both hands along the small of my back and then gripped me hard and shoved deep. I came with a rush of air and a shiver that rocked my body like a small quake.
‘Good girl. That was nice. What a tight little cunt you have.’ The words alone had me back on the edge of another release. Ryan was hypnotic. Were I not so down on love right now, I thought I could love him. Maybe one day. He was dirty and he was crass and he could be a bit scary even – so big and lumbering with a mane of dark brown hair and a beard that hid half his face. If angered he resembled a bear. But under it all was a brilliant awesome man who touched me like I was made of glass or steel depending on my mood.
The door opened and we froze. I felt my heart stagger and spots bloomed in my vision. It was Meredith and she was almost all the way in the tiny room before she registered what was going on.
‘Oh – my – oh! I’m so sorry. Oh God I …’
‘Get in here and shut the fucking door,’ I growled, Ryan’s cock still buried deep inside me. Still hard. Still welcome. Though he hadn’t moved, he was holding me in a death grip like I might float off.
The door snicked shut and Ryan started to move imperceptibly. He laughed. He knew me so well. We’d need to share more than fucking if we ever moved forward in the future he’d told me one night that we went out for beers.
And now here she was – Meredith – pretty, brown haired, skittish little girl. I’d liked her from the get-go. I’d wondered about kissing her more than once. Ever since Joelle and I split, I’d been lusting after the kiss of feminine lips. I grabbed her by her white uniform blouse and tugged her in. She stumbled and sputtered but when I got her close and kissed her, she sighed. Even as her small white hands hovered in the air like pale butterflies. She didn’t try and pull away. She didn’t scream and run.
She kissed me back.
‘On the counter, pants off,’ I ordered and Ryan grunted, moving slow – delaying his orgasm, no doubt.
‘But I…I mean, I don’t want to interru … and I’m not sure if …’ The words tumbled out of her mouth, tripping over one another. She wasn’t making any sense.
I shook her once. ‘Do you want to join us or no?’
It was an easy question.
Her big blue eyes darted to me a
nd then Ryan, finally settled on my mouth. I watched her watching me, feeling the small aftershocks of my orgasm firing off in my pussy. I licked my lips and she nodded once. ‘Yes.’
That’s how we got her on the counter with her pants off. The door had been blocked with a chair and I shivered at the smell of us all in the tiny room. Pure, unadulterated sex. I inhaled the scent of sweet Meredith before I even touched her. When I touched her it got even better. Smooth pale skin under my fingertips as I traced her labia and kissed her inner thighs. My lipstick leaving little red ghost images of my mouth on her skin.
‘Jesus, I’m a dead man,’ Ryan said, gripping me tight, thrusting slow but deep inside of me where my muscles gripped him with a slippery kind of greed.
‘Hang on, big boy.’
I kissed her outer lips until she gripped the edge of the counter and her trim hips shot up to meet me in little blips and jerks. I tsked teasingly but licked a wet split along her sex and found the tiny knot of her clit. Her fingers threaded in my hair and she tugged.
The pain shot through my scalp but my cunt clenched up around Ryan from the pain. He sighed and I sighed and the warmth and wetness on Miss Meredith made her sigh. I nibbled her until she wiggled and then I started to lick her in earnest, finding her slippery pussy with my finger and fucking her slowly until she gasped.
Pushing back to Ryan, welcoming him to move, we began our short and sweet break. He fucked me, rocking me hard, driving me forward. The motions of him moving into me, shoved me between Meredith’s pretty legs, making me half crazy with lust. I sealed my mouth to Meredith, licking and sucking until she came with a short cry, adrenaline fuelling a speedy finish.
‘Fuck,’ Ryan said and gripped me so hard I knew I’d wear his fingerprints for days – a thought that turned me on no end.
I came when he stuck his finger in my arse – that sharp bite of pain mingled with my pleasure. He was right behind me, coming with a throaty groan and then time stood still – just for an instant. We hovered there for those stolen moments, three people in various stages of release.
‘I did not expect that,’ Meredith whispered.
‘Me neither,’ I said.
‘Ditto,’ Ryan said.
From out in the café we heard, ‘Where are my staff!’
‘He’s going to have my hide!’ Meredith grabbed a packet of napkins and hopped down. Her fingers tangled in her pants as she tried to fasten them. She was so adorably flustered I couldn’t help but laugh. She almost made it out before I snagged her and hauled her in for a final kiss.
‘You’ll have to join us again.’
She looked stunned but satisfied. She smiled, her cheeks two rosy splotches from all the excitement.
When the door shut, Ryan smoothed my stupid red uniform tie even as I buckled my belt. We had to look presentable, after all. ‘Now that was something nice we just shared.’ His lips touched mine where Meredith’s had just been. I sucked his tongue as it pushed past my lips and let him kiss me deeply.
‘Nice doesn’t cover what we just shared.’
‘There might be a future for us, after all,’ he teased, but something in me warmed at the statement.
‘Better get back or he’ll have my hide, too,’ I said.
Ryan kissed me once more, artfully arranging my bangs across my forehead the way he knew I liked. ‘And what a nice hide it is to have,’ he chuckled.
‘You’d know,’ I said and scurried out to get back to work.
A Cut Above
by Izzy French
They always seem to know exactly what you want don’t they, the good ones? Hairdressers, that is. I prefer mine to be male. Gay, straight, that doesn’t matter. Or it hasn’t until now. Marcus was an enigma. Hard to tell which way he played it. He worked out, that was clear from the tight pink T-shirt highlighting the abs and biceps. And he was well-groomed. But wasn’t almost every man a bit metrosexual these days? Sean, my ex, certainly had been. I’d popped in, just for a consultation, on the off-chance they could give me a new look. He’d offered me five minutes; that was all he had time for right then. I could make an appointment if we could agree on a style, he said.
‘So, you’re looking for a complete change? Drop the uber-babe look. Let’s aim for uber-bitch instead?’
He was running his fingers through my smooth blonde hair. I shivered as he rested his hands on my shoulders. It was as though he knew. Like he had some kind of weird sixth sense. Uber-babe had suited me whilst Sean and I had been together. In fact he encouraged, almost demanded it – a trim, blonde version of himself. A trophy girlfriend to show off and be proud of, publicly, at least. But uber-bitch would suit me so much more, right now.
‘I can fit you in later, say sevenish?’
I was surprised, expecting the salon to be closed by then. But I nodded. I had an appointment later that evening, but sevenish would be fine.
‘It’ll be just me by then,’ he said. ‘And my … partner, Monique. We offer a complete package. You could call it pampering.’
Pampering sounded good to me. He nodded in the direction of the woman at the far end of the salon. Long black hair, pale skin, sharp chin, no smile. Tiny waist, round hips. His partner, he said. I wondered. She looked like a right ice maiden.
‘She’ll be in charge of your colour. It will be red. A vibrant, cherry red.’ It was as though I had little say in the matter. As if I wasn’t the customer? He smiled as he led me to the door, pressing his hand in the small of my back. Another shiver.
‘See you later, Clara.’
‘Yes,’ I replied. I was quite happy with that. I thought Marcus and Monique could help me renew myself.
I was back before seven. The blinds were half-closed, and only the rear of the salon was lit. I wondered if we were visible to passers-by. Marcus showed me to a seat facing a mirror. I watched his reflection. He made a quick phone call, then pulled scissors, a brush and a comb from a concealed space. I hoped I wasn’t rushing him. I rarely run late. That had always been one of the problems between me and Sean. And had, ultimately, been our downfall. He expected everyone else to run to his timetable. And he never learnt. So maybe he wasn’t expecting me home that day from work, not right then, like he claimed afterwards. I’d heard giggles as I dropped my handbag in the hallway. All I wanted to do was flop on the sofa with a large glass of red wine and work my way towards a nice slow fuck once I’d wound down. The last thing I wanted to hear was women’s voices coming from the bedroom. I tiptoed down the hallway and listened outside the door for a while, quite certain I wouldn’t hear anything to my advantage. Eavesdroppers rarely do.
Sean was groaning. And I heard one woman laugh, another cajole.
‘Come on, Sean,’ the cajoler was saying. ‘Fuck me. She’s had her fun. It’s my turn. And won’t that bitch of yours be home soon?’
Laughter from the other one.
Looking back, with some sense of perspective and a firmer grip on reality than I had at the time, I knew he wanted me to find them, but never had any intention of inviting me to join in. Bastard. But still, I don’t think he was planning for it all to be over between us. I think he was just showing off, to them and me. And I was mighty disappointed. If I’d known I’d have been up for it, especially with those two. It wasn’t just Sean who liked no-strings-attached fucking. Nor was it just him who was curious, liked a bit of experimentation. I just didn’t want to come home after a long day and find someone else enjoying my boyfriend, with no option or invitation to join in.
And it was also the element of complete surprise that got me. I like feeling in control of a situation. And Sean had disappointed me. There’d been no signs that anything was wrong between us up until now. We fucked often, and, I thought, to each other’s mutual satisfaction. We communicated as well as any couple. We could have planned this together. When we fought our reconciliations left us panting and glistening. But obviously that just hadn’t been enough.
I opened our bedroom door. The curtains were drawn, so it w
as hard to untangle the three sets of limbs immediately. I thought Sean was sitting in our leather armchair. Slowly it became clearer, and I’d been right. He was sitting there. With a woman grinding away on his lap, and a second sitting on the arm, kissing Sean and cupping the other woman’s full breast, twisting and turning her nipple between her finger and forefinger. My stomach tightened. I loved fucking right there, and I loved my breasts being played with. I could have stayed there and watched. I could feel myself moisten and there was a tingle between my thighs. He’d certainly chosen a couple of fine-figured women to play with. And I liked looking at women’s bodies as much as men’s. On the whole, they’re far more sensual.
‘Clara,’ he grinned. ‘Welcome home. We’re nearly done.’
‘Glass of wine, Clara? White or red?’
Monique’s voice broke right into my reminiscence. Her voice was cool, off-hand.
‘Red, please.’ That was one of my last memories of that day, picking up a full glass of red wine and throwing it in Sean’s face. And it was also the last time we’d seen each other. We’d spoken, of course, to sort out the practicalities, but we hadn’t met since.
‘So, I was thinking, a lot shorter. A geometric bob.’
Marcus was there now and he wasn’t asking my opinion. He was telling me that was what he was going to do. And that was a relief. I’d had to make too many decisions lately, not least deciding where I would live.
‘Colour first,’ he said, leading me over to Monique. She didn’t say a word as she combed the colour through my hair. I watched her in the mirror. Useful, these mirrors. She worked carefully, precisely and quickly.
She was dressed in hairdresser’s black. Short tight black skirt, loose silk blouse with several buttons open, revealing a lacy black bra. I watched her breasts lift as she combed. They were small and looked firm. I wondered how they’d feel. Her skin was like porcelain. Her thighs were creamy against the tiny skirt. A beautiful contrast, in my opinion. I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of her looked like. How she moved when unclothed.
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