by Lynn LaFleur
Unable to resist the lure of her wet flesh, he stooped between them and leaned forward to smell her pussy. He inhaled, drawing her scent deep into his lungs. His cock jerked. God, he wanted to fuck her, had wanted to fuck her for ten years.
Ignoring his needs, he slid his thumb over the slick folds, her clit. She shivered and stifled a moan by biting her lower lip.
He moved his thumb faster over her clit and added his fingers to the foreplay. “Is this what you need?”
“I need… Oh!” She gasped and arched her hips. “I need you inside me.”
“Didn’t some dude named de Sade say there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain?” He dropped to his knees, slid his hands under her buttocks and pulled her forward. He knew by her trembling that she felt his breath, warm and demanding, against her pussy. She was where he wanted her, with a need so great she could no longer stop herself from moaning.
He draped her legs over his shoulders and tunneled his hand beneath her T-shirt. He blew soft little breaths along her labia while his fingers tugged and squeezed her breasts and pinched the sharp little pebbles her nipples had become.
“Rico, please…”
“You invited me to dinner, Mary Beth. Now I’m going to eat some nice fresh pussy for dessert.” He lapped at her clit. Her taste exploded on his tongue…that sweet-salty taste of an aroused woman. She threaded her hands through his hair and snapped the cord that held his ponytail in place. She was trembling so hard, he thought she might come before he took a second taste. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I want more.”
“I’ll give you more than you can handle, but don’t you fuckin’ come before I say you can.”
Despite his harsh command, her body bucked against his mouth. “I can’t stop… Ohhhhhhhhhh.”
Rico watched Mary Beth’s eyes drift closed. He loved watching a woman climax, the way her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths. He saw the flush of satisfaction spread on her skin in the light of the fire. Her clit retreated back inside its hood.
Rico had listened to a sixth sense that told him underneath the toughness, Mary Beth was a woman who at times craved domination. She’d reacted just as he hoped she would, with a climax stronger than any he’d ever coaxed from a woman.
He watched until her breath slowed to normal. He wasn’t done with her. With one hand still under her shirt, he began drawing light circles around her tummy. She grimaced at what he knew tickled and tried to push his hand away.
“You came before I said okay.” He took her wrist in his other hand.
She opened one eye. He saw a hint of curiosity as well as fear mixed with renewing desire. “You knew I would. You made me do it.”
“What am I supposed to do about that?”
Her eyes opened wide. He grabbed hold of her ankles and pulled her legs farther apart. “If I ignored what the guards told me to do, they punished me.”
She didn’t answer, but he felt the shiver that ran through her.
“Don’t you think you deserve to be punished?”
She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “No…well, maybe—just a little.”
“What type of punishment do you think you deserve?”
She gnawed on the tip of her thumbnail. She looked so damn sexy with her hair in tangles and her beautiful pussy sending the message that she was eager to play this little game, he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep from coming in his pants.
“Maybe…um…a spanking,” she said in a tiny voice.
“I didn’t hear that.” He pulled her thumb away from her lips. “Tell me what you deserve.”
“Maybe…you know, if you spa—”
It happened so quickly, Mary Beth didn’t know how to react. One moment she lay with her legs draped over Rico’s shoulders. The next, and with as little effort as turning a pillow, he’d lifted her and turned her over his knees. She couldn’t believe it. She shook again…not with fear this time, but eagerness to see what he’d do next.
Whack!
The slap stung, but there was no real pain. Her pussy thrummed. She wanted more.
“Tell me you’re sorry you didn’t obey me.” His words sounded controlled, but his voice had gone hoarse. He held her with one hand resting lightly on the small of her back while he massaged her tingling cheeks with the other.
She looked over her shoulder at him. Her breath caught. His hair had fallen in gentle waves to below his shoulders. He shook an errant hank out of his eyes without taking his hands off her. Even dressed he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. The thought of where this could go frightened her. She’d never had the courage to do this before.
“Tell me you’re sorry, or…”
“No!”
“No?”
“You heard me.”
Whack!
This time, it stung a little more. And her pussy thrummed even harder. If they kept this up, she’d come again…in seconds.
She held out through two more strikes before she apologized for coming too soon. She dropped her head to the cushion and lay there, so many thoughts racing through her mind. She’d just trod into the dark side. And she loved it.
She closed her eyes and went with the mellow feeling of his hand massaging the sting away. She smiled, and if he continued to do what he was doing…ohmygod!
He’d slipped a finger into her channel while he bent over and began to lick her cheeks. Heat built inside her, cream oozed from her pussy. She felt his finger gently pry her cheeks open and his tongue circled the delicate opening of her anus.
He pushed a finger farther inside her pussy. She whimpered and spread her legs a bit more.
A second finger joined the first, then a third. Rico drove them in and out of her channel but it wasn’t until he licked her anus again that she thought she’d come apart.
She moaned as he fucked her with his fingers yet never missed a stroke with his tongue. A powerful release began building inside her. It exploded into a shower of fireworks and stars behind her eyes when Rico thrust his tongue into her ass.
She didn’t think she could take more until she heard his strangled words, “My turn.”
He set her on her feet and as quickly as he’d turned her over his knee, he’d unzipped his fly and pulled his shaft from his shorts. He pushed her onto the cushions of the loveseat on her hands and knees. Mary Beth barely had time to inhale when he thrust inside her to his balls.
She clutched the loveseat and moaned. “Oh, yes, yes! That feels so good.” She arched her hips and pushed back, trying to get even more of his cock inside her.
“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet.”
“And you’re huge.”
“Are you complaining?”
“And risk another spanking? Hell no.”
Mary Beth gasped and her body jerked when his hand delivered another stinging smack. “Rico!”
“You want more?”
Pleasure built and threatened to take over her body. “If you spank me again, I’ll come.”
He moved faster, thrust harder. Mary Beth clutched the loveseat tighter. She was close. One more slap, one more thrust, and she’d…
A hard smack landed on her right cheek. She tensed, the walls of her channel contracted around his rod. Her climax rushed through her as Rico released a fierce growl and dug his fingers into her hips.
Seconds passed as their breathing slowed. Finally Mary Beth asked, “Are we still alive?”
“You’re askin’ the wrong guy.”
He lay beside her and tugged her into his arms. Neither spoke until the fire began to die and a chill settled over the room. When gooseflesh broke out on Mary Beth’s arms, she pushed up on one elbow and swept away the hair that had fallen in her eyes.
“Are you awake?”
Rico nodded.
“I think I’d better throw on some clothes. It’s a little chilly in here.”
Rico stood and helped her to her feet. “Should I let them in?” He pointed to the door where the cats s
at in a group.
“If you don’t mind.”
Mary Beth heard the door open as she walked away. She pulled a pair of fresh underwear from her bureau and took it in the bathroom with her.
She was brushing her teeth when she heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle roaring to life. Her stomach turned. In the cold light of the bathroom mirror, she saw an apple-red spot above her shoulder, in the curve of her neck. She ran her hand through her hair. She not only looked like she’d been through a war, she had. To the victor go the spoils.
But who won tonight and who lost?
Chapter Seven
Mary Beth woke with a pain in her head, a love bite that looked even bigger in daylight, and enough regret to keep the best Jewish mother wringing her hands for a year.
It was our catharsis. Their relationship had started with a bond formed across a courtroom, grew and festered into hatred through Rico’s years in prison, and culminated in the world’s most misunderstood act—on the one hand, an act of supreme love and the survival of mankind, on the other, an exercise of power and revenge.
She’d allowed him to dominate her in order to assuage her guilt. He’d had to subjugate and punish her to rid himself of the demons that drove him. Last night they’d healed themselves and each other. Now it was over.
Bullshit!
Her reflection in the mirror above her sink showed eyes puffy from too much wine and a love bite that shined like a Christmas tree light. She looked like hell, and yet the face that looked back at her had the unmistakable glow of a woman who’d had incredible sex and enjoyed every minute of it.
The ache between her legs would turn to desire in an instant if she let herself remember what had happened between them. She ran the pads of her fingertips across her butt cheeks, as if touching them might bring back the sting that had started her on a path to a place where she’d never been.
How could she, Mary Beth Hunter, a trial lawyer who fought like a she-wolf in her clients’ behalf, enjoy the role of a submissive? To a man who made Adonis pale in comparison, but who couldn’t come within a mile of her intellectually?
That was a question that would take more than one morning, and the cup of coffee she couldn’t wait to taste, to answer.
She threw a sweatshirt over her head, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and in a pair of woolen socks, headed into the kitchen wondering what sort of mess awaited her and which part she’d start on first.
Instead, she stopped dead in the doorway. The kitchen sparkled. How much wine had she drunk? Then she remembered how Rico had made the coffee and taken time to clean away the dinner dishes because quite frankly—and she winced at the memory—she’d been a little too tipsy to do it herself.
Fine! He’s well trained. Big deal!
She stood at the sink slapping freshly ground coffee into a cast-iron coffeemaker Marty Trinidad had brought her from Greece after his last film. It made coffee so strong it could remove rust from the Titanic. Marty loved the rich yet bitter-tasting blend and insisted she make it every time he stopped by. Fortunately he didn’t visit that often. She’d brew a pot of coffee, toast a bagel and slather it with cream cheese, and wonder what the hell she’d do next.
While the coffee hissed its way through the cast-iron, she drifted into the family room where her cats lined up, begging to go outdoors into the sunny morning. On her way to the French doors, she saw the plates Rico had used to serve Synda’s cake. And the coffee mugs with just enough cold coffee and cream to start a science project. At least he hadn’t tried using Marty’s coffeemaker. With a novice at the helm, they’d be dead now.
She picked up the plates and forks, and scooped up the mugs. As she passed the end table, something shiny caught her eyes. She stopped and looked again. A chill began to creep up from her toes. Her stomach churned. She set the mugs down and walked to the end table.
“God help me,” she murmured while she separated the three foil condom packets that lay on the tabletop—the three unopened condom packets. She’d had unprotected sex with a man who’d spent ten years in prison. She dropped her head in her hands. “What have I done?”
*
Rico had managed to avoid his bosses all morning, but he knew they’d be waiting. His dad, a long-haul trucker, had let his ma raise him with the help of an aunt and his two older sisters. He knew what women were like—a bunch of clucking hens. Cluck, cluck, cluck as they picked away at your business.
He had one last chore before his day was done—refilling the ice in the bar. He carried a huge canister on one shoulder and another tucked in the crook of his arm. If his luck held, Leandra would have her back to him while she visited with a table of diners, and Synda would be in the pantry taking inventory.
He stepped into the kitchen from the shed where they kept the ice machine. No such luck. Both of them stood at a table with their noses buried in a crate of oranges.
“Hey,” he said and picked up the pace of his steps. If he made as far as the swinging doors that led from the kitchen to the dining room, he could duck out the front.
“Hey, Rico,” Synda cooed. “That’s quite a load you’re carrying. Don’t go straining anything. We need you in one piece.”
“No problem.” Only three feet to the doors.
“When you’ve emptied the ice, come on back. We’ve got some really good oranges to share.”
Shit. No way he’d spill his guts for a couple of oranges.
“Okay?” she persisted.
“Yeah,” he muttered. How in hell had he ended up with a raspberry the size of a golf ball on his neck? He’d hidden it with one of the canisters. They’d see it if he came back. But if he didn’t come back, then what?
He tried not to disturb the folks dawdling over their coffee. He refilled the freezer off the bar, stacked the canisters and hoisted them on his shoulder.
Leandra had breezed into the dining room behind him, busy now with the last of the diners. If he moved fast enough, he might make it through the kitchen before Synda noticed.
He still didn’t know himself how last night happened. Wasn’t the wine. He’d had one, maybe two sips with dinner. He’d waited too long to wring the truth from Mary Beth Hunter to dull his brain with some sissified yuppie merlot.
Even without the wine, he’d found he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the diamond-shaped cutout on her sweater, the soft white flesh he saw when she moved, a tiny trace of a flowery cologne when she stood beside him, that gorgeous tight ass in even tighter jeans.
Then things started happening.
He’d never raised a hand in anger at a woman in his life, but there he was, smackin’ the hell out of her ass with her lovin’ it. The more she loved it, the harder his cock grew. He was thirty years old, and maybe he’d had four or five women in his life. He and Mary Beth had done more in ten minutes than he’d done with all the others combined.
He didn’t even know where all that dominance shit came from. Something unknown took over and drove him. What should have been ten minutes turned into three hours.
Worse, he’d wanted to stay with her all night, to wake up lying beside her, and instead of just fucking her, he wanted to make love to her.
Rico shivered and ran his hand through his hair. Make love to Mary Beth Hunter? Not in a million years. He hated her. Someone had to pay for what he’d lost, and they both knew who.
He wanted to punish her, yet for some damn reason he couldn’t explain, he didn’t want to hurt her. That’s when he knew he had to get the hell out of there, quick.
“Hey, Rico, don’t forget your oranges.”
Startled, Rico looked up to find Leandra falling into step alongside him. He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t sensed her presence. Quickly, he lowered his head and raised his shoulders, still hoping she wouldn’t notice what Mary Beth left on the side of his neck.
“The oranges are so fresh, you’ll be able to enjoy them all week.”
“Ah…yeah, thanks.” He pushed open the swinging door an
d stepped back for her to walk into the kitchen ahead of him.
“In fact, if you’re not doing anything later, say about six, Syn and I will be heading to Pietro’s for pizza. You’re welcome to…” Her voice trailed off. Rico cringed. He guessed what had made her stop.
“Um…you’re welcome to tag along.”
Synda still stood at the crate, separating the oranges. He saw she stopped when he walked in, and watched her gaze follow Leandra’s. She bit her bottom lip and cleared her throat. “How was dinner?”
“Fine.”
“What’d M.B. serve?”
“Steak.”
Synda nodded. “Good?”
“Yeah…great.”
“What else?”
His head shot up. “Whattaya mean, what else?”
“What else did she serve? What did you think I meant?”
If she were a guy, he knew what he’d do about that shit-eating grin.
“I’m sure she didn’t just plunk a hunk of meat on your plate and shove it in front of you.”
“Baked potato, salad, you know, the usual stuff.”
“I sent some of your Black Russian cake with him,” Leandra said.
Much to Rico’s relief, Leandra managed to slide between Synda and him, blocking Synda’s view of that side of his neck.
“Rico, why don’t you put the rest of the oranges back in the pantry and head out? I’ll make sure the front door’s locked so we can call it a week.”
*
Leandra and Synda told Rico about The Blue Riff while the three of them stuffed themselves with a Pietro’s pepperoni and sausage pizza. On Sunday evenings, the jazz club catered to local restaurateurs and retailers who managed to squeeze in a few hours of fun on their one free night a week. Tonight was no exception. Tourists stood out like the proverbial sore thumb in a place like this. This evening they numbered less than a handful.
“How about that table?” Leandra pointed to an empty four-top near the small stage at the far end of the room.
Synda shook her head. “Too near the speakers. What about over there?”
“Too near the bar.”