Naughty Bits

by Lacy Danes

  “I could tell.” Shit, shit, shit. What was happening? Someone had hijacked her mouth and nothing was coming out the way she wanted it to. She was supposed to say something about how busy she’d been, about how she’d barely noticed he hadn’t called. What she wasn’t supposed to do was sound like a miserable, whiny little girl who wasn’t getting her way.

  “Annalise.”

  “Look, just forget it,” she said. She gestured to her building, less than a block ahead on the right. “Drop me here and you can make the turn for your place. Thanks for the ride.” She gathered up her briefcase and reached for the door handle.

  But Gabe didn’t stop, not at the corner before his turn or even in front of her building. Instead he cruised down to the next street and made a left, heading out of downtown and away from where they both lived.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you somewhere we can talk.”

  “We are talking!” She knew she sounded panicked, but she couldn’t help it. Her defenses were too low for her to stand up to him for long. “I want to go home.”

  “Tough.” He kept his eyes on the road and drove for about ten minutes before she realized where he was taking her.

  “No, Gabe. I don’t want to go there.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.” He couldn’t take her to Coronado, to the small, secluded spot she had begun to think of as theirs. He just couldn’t.

  But he ignored her protests, and didn’t say another word to her until he’d parked the car next to the private little cove they’d found two months previously. Before he could say anything, she asked, “So do you want to fuck me one last time? For old times’ sake?” She unfastened the first button on her sheer pink blouse, just to let him know how little she cared. “I don’t have much time, so we should probably get right to it.”

  “Stop it!” He knocked her hand away. “I’m sick of games, Annalise. I’m sick of pretending that nothing that happens between us matters.”

  “I’m just being honest, Gabe. Isn’t sex what you brought me here for?”

  “You don’t know the first thing about honesty. You’re too busy proving how tough and unfeeling you are to let anyone see the real you.”

  She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes, went nose to nose with him before she could think better of it. “This is the real me, Gabe. I’m sorry I don’t live up to your stupid expectations.”

  He studied her for a minute, shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, that’s your problem then. I never promised you a damn thing.”

  “You’re right, you didn’t. I was just too stupid to realize it.” His mouth turned grim. “But things change. We’ve been playing this stupid one-upmanship game since the day we met. And it was fun for a while. But I want more from you now. I need more.”

  “I’ve given you more than I’ve given anybody else. Why can’t that be enough?”

  “Because it isn’t.”

  His eyes held hers, and she realized that she was trapped, unable to look away. Unable to walk away. “I don’t have anything else to give,” she whispered.

  “That’s bullshit. What you mean is there’s nothing else you will give.”

  “Do you have to push?” She looked at him imploringly. “Can’t we just do this for a while?”

  “What exactly do you want to do?” His eyes snapped fire at her as the tight leash he was keeping on his temper slipped.

  “You know,” she shrugged, gesturing with her hands. “Do—”

  “What?” Gabe demanded, before slamming out of the car.

  “Do what?” he asked again as he came around to the passenger side and yanked her out of the car and into his arms.

  “Do this?” He let her slide down his body, then turned her so that she was facing the car, her hands planted firmly on the hood. He pushed her pants and underwear down to her ankles with his right hand while he thrust the fingers of his left as far into her as he could go. As he found her G-spot and began to stroke he asked, in a voice made husky with desire, “Is this what you want to do for a while?”

  She struggled against him, furious that he could make her want him with one stroke of a finger. But each movement she made brought him deeper, pressed him harder, made her wetter.

  “Gabe, stop!” she demanded, her voice high and panicked as she moved restlessly against his hand. How could he turn her on so completely that she would fuck him right here, out in the open, while cold rain lashed at them from every direction? Where was her self-control? Where was her pride?

  Leaning forward, he grazed her long, elegant neck with his lips while he used his free hand to fumble his belt and zipper out of the way. She felt his cock against her bare ass and couldn’t prevent her whimper any more than she could prevent the blind instinct that had her pressing back against him. Searching for completion and to hell with pride and everything else that was keeping them apart. She loved him and if this was all they could ever have, then so be it. Annalise cried out as he bent her over the hood of the car and surged inside of her with one powerful thrust of his hips.

  She moaned deep in her throat and spread her legs, desperate to have him as deep inside of her as he could go. It had been a long few days without him, without anyone, and the relief of having Gabe inside her was totally overwhelming. She tried to speak, but couldn’t form words around the high, hungry sounds clawing their way out of her throat with each surge of his cock inside of her.

  Reaching behind her, she raked her nails down his bare ass as she tried to pull him even closer. “Harder,” she finally managed to gasp. “Please. Harder.”

  He heard her strangled gasps and responded with even more pressure, even harder thrusts until she feared he would rip her apart. But he felt so good and she’d missed him so much. She needed everything he could give her and more.

  His left hand moved between her legs while his right one remained on the small of her back, keeping her bent forward for the best access. He spread her open, stroked the spot where they were joined as she pressed against him, desperate for release.

  “Come on, Lissy. Come for me. Let me feel you, baby.” He reached for her clit, stroked his thumb over it once, twice, a third time. She shattered, screaming his name as he rode her through her orgasm. Wave after wave of sensation crashed through her, weakening her knees and sending slivers of electricity to every part of her body.

  Her muscles clenched rhythmically, milking him with every contraction of her strong body. She felt him pull back, felt him as he fought his fast-approaching orgasm with everything he had. He wasn’t done yet, and she understood. She wasn’t ready for this one, perfect moment in time to end either.

  Taking a couple of deep breaths through his mouth, he reached under her shirt to rub her nipples through her bra. “I can’t,” she gasped, pushing weakly against him. “No more, Gabe.”

  “More,” he said, squeezing her nipple between his thumb and index finger, feeling her muscles clench around his cock in response. “There’s always more. I can’t get enough of you, Lissy. More and more and more.”

  He moved his hand down and with his index finger gently tapped a pattern on her clit. She moaned his name, her head lolling forward even as her questing body arched into his caresses.

  “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” He continued the pattern, watching as her hips moved more and more urgently against his hand. “I love it when you come. I love watching you and feeling you. I love being inside of you when your muscles clench around me again and again.”

  He bent his head to her neck, licked the line of sweat dotting her nape. “I love your hard nipples and your hot little clit.” He brushed his lips over her lobe, his tongue sweeping against the sensitive spot behind her ear as he whispered to her.

  Annalise moaned deep in her throat, her body moving feverishly against his even as tears of need streamed down her face. His words were enflaming her, taking her closer and closer to another climax, something she would hav
e sworn was impossible only minutes before.

  “I love that you’re always hot for me, always wet and willing. I love to fuck you, to thrust inside you and feel you clench around me.” He pulled out slowly then slammed back into her. “I love how you take all of me, how you always want more.” His mouth fastened on the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, sucking ravenously.

  “I love how you seduce me, with your wild ideas and your open responses. I love how you let me fuck you anywhere. I love thinking of new places and new ways to fuck you.” He pinched her clit with his thumb and middle finger, leaving his index finger free to stroke the sweet bundle of nerves again and again. “I love you.”

  “Gabe, stop!” she sobbed, her entire body shuddering. “I can’t take it. I can’t.”

  He squeezed her clit a little harder and was rewarded by a high-pitched scream as she thrust her ass even harder against him. “You can take it. And more. Can’t you, baby?” His hips moved harder and faster against her as his control slipped another notch. “Can’t you?” He moved his right hand from her back to her nipple, flicking his thumb over the hard peak again and again. “Because you love fucking me as much as I love you.”

  “Yes! Yes! Gabe, please!” She was screaming, sobbing, wilder than she’d ever been before. He thrust into her again and again, and she knew he was claiming her, branding her as his so that no matter how far she ran she would always remember that she belonged with him. As he pounded into her, she knew he took a part of her with him. Knew that she’d never forget the feel of him inside of her while his voice and hands took her someplace she’d never been.

  He shifted so that he hit her G-spot with each thrust of his hips and she screamed. She was completely his at that moment, completely at his mercy, and she knew he realized it. She should be frightened of the control he had over her, but she was too aroused to care about anything but her next orgasm. She was going to die if he didn’t give in, if he didn’t come soon and stop this totally incredible, absolutely amazing torture. Desperate, she closed her legs, trapping Gabe between them, and then clenched her vaginal muscles as tightly as she could.

  She was rewarded when he groaned deep in his throat and thrust against her one final time before spilling himself inside of her. His orgasm triggered her own and she screamed his name, again and again, completely caught up in the physical and emotional storm ripping her body apart.

  When it was over, when they finally came back to themselves, Annalise tried to pull away from him. But he wouldn’t let her go, his body keeping hers pinned against the car while his fingers toyed endlessly with her nipples.

  “I’m not letting you go, Annalise.” He thrust against her, more to make his point than for any sexual gratification. “You’re going to have to get used to that.”

  She turned her head, met his steady gaze with one of her own. “You can’t keep me if I choose to go.”

  He pressed more deeply into her, as if he could lock them together for all time. “So choose to stay,” he said, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her ass backward as he thrust forward as hard as he could. She gasped and he did it again. And again. “Stay with me, Lissy. Choose me.”

  She swallowed, her eyes still locked to his. “I’m scared.”

  He snorted. “So am I. Do you think you’re easy, Annalise?”

  Her smile, when it came, was self-deprecating. “I’m pretty much the definition of easy.”

  “Not anymore you’re not.” He pulled her up so that her back rested against his chest and he could wrap her securely in his strong arms. “I love you and I need you to stay with me. Please.”

  His eyes were dark and vulnerable, his love for her right there for her to see. She stared at him for a moment, soaking up all the emotions pouring out of him and into her. And then she nodded, because there really was no other choice she’d rather make.

  Anything You Want

  JENESI ASH

  I HAVE THREE LOVERS.

  Jealous?

  You shouldn’t be. Sure, they have money (otherwise, why would I be with them?) and the sex is nonstop. The men treat me right and shower me with gifts, but, you know what? It’s damn hard keeping them happy.

  It’s even more difficult keeping them a secret from each other.

  I have the system down pat. For the past year, Monday nights are for Calvin. At twenty-eight, he’s younger than me (although he doesn’t know it!). Tall, athletic, and very energetic. He has more money and more kinks than anyone I know. One would automatically think he’s a keeper. Ha. Ever try to fuck a hyperactive guy? You should see the skid marks on my back.

  Wednesdays are for Dennis, and they have been for about eighteen months. He’s not so hot, and he’s not so rich. He has a receding hairline and the beginnings of a beer belly. I have a strong feeling he’s married—he has that henpecked look about him—but I follow the “don’t ask, don’t tell” rule.

  Normally I wouldn’t give Dennis the time of day, but there’s something to be said about being the highlight of his week. Hell, who are we kidding? I’m the luckiest thing that’s happened to him in his life.

  But that’s not why I hook up with him every Wednesday. The guy comes in handy. He can call in a favor for anything at any time. I would think he was part of the Mafia or something, but he’s just not that interesting.

  And then there is George. George is the oldest of the lot. He reeks of sophistication and success. I would love for some of that to rub off on me, but after seeing him every Friday for two years, I can safely say if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s not going to.

  George was my first provider. He bought the condo for me in downtown Seattle, and on special occasions he gives me some kick-ass jewelry. Not that I would know this at first sight, but I had the baubles appraised by a guy Dennis knows. Calvin pays for my utilities and food as well as my “incidentals.”

  Yeah, you got that right. I fool around for food. I figure it’s no different than going out on a date because the fridge is empty. Only with this setup our expectations are clear and up-front. No confusion. No hurt feelings. I’m a sure thing and so is my dinner. I like this kind of deal and I’ve long decided dating is for amateurs.

  Wait. Was that the doorbell? Uh-oh…What day is it?

  Shit! I have no clue. My gut twists sharply. I wrap my arms around my stomach and stare at the door. I hate when this happens. That’s the downside of being a moonlighting mistress.

  Is it Wednesday? I frown as I try to recall. No, I think I’ve already seen Dennis this week. It’s so hard to remember. We do the same thing every freaking time.

  Dennis isn’t the only reason I have bouts of déjà vu. Not having to work outside my condo makes the days bleed together. Not that I’m complaining! These moments of panic are still better than all those years in dead-end, minimum wage jobs.

  I hurry toward the entrance, fix an inviting smile on my face and grab the doorknob. My heart is pounding against my chest. Sometimes I have weird dreams of all three guys showing up at the same time. Not that it would happen; I made sure of it. But the possibility, no matter how remote, still gets my blood pumping.

  Swinging the door open, my first thought is that there is only one man in front of me. Whew. I pause, connecting the name with the lover.

  I’m very proud that I have never called out the wrong name. Okay, I admit that I use the same endearment for each of them. It’s safer that way, especially when my mind wanders during sex.

  “Hello, love!” My smile grows and it’s probably wobbling with relief when I see George. I lean forward, letting my high and full breasts brush against the sleeve of his fine cashmere coat. I place a gentle kiss on his lips and slyly dart my tongue in his mouth, tasting a hint of cigar. I usher him inside. “I’ve missed you.”

  Okay, not entirely true. So what? It’s what they all want to hear and my job is to create a fantasy. And it’s not like I can’t stand being around George. I like him. I like having sex with him. I like getting paid to have sex. />
  I probably shouldn’t admit to any of that, especially the last part, but it’s true. Would I spend my Friday nights with him if money wasn’t involved? I don’t know.

  “I know I’m late,” George says in his usual brisk tone. He steps inside and takes off his coat.

  “Would you like something to drink?” I ask as I close the door behind him. He’s into red wine, but do I have an open bottle ready? No. I’ll have to improvise.

  “No, thanks, baby. I can’t stay the night.”

  I pout and look at him through my long eyelashes.

  I’m really good at pouting. It’s one of my most effective weapons. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I can get out of men just by protruding my lower lip.

  “I know, I know.” George cups my cheek with his hand, cold from the winter night. “You hardly get to see me as it is. It can’t be helped. I’m a busy man.”

  I quickly lower my eyes, hoping I’m the picture of disappointment, but my mind is whirring. Does George truly believe I wait all week for him with bated breath? That I live for these precious hours? Is he for real or is this part of the fantasy?

  Men are so gullible, I think as I watch George heading straight for the bedroom. Hmm…he’s not stopping for a chat or cuddle. He really is in a rush.

  Sometimes I suspect George has me on the side simply because he can. I’m like the fire-engine-red Ferrari parked in his garage. Expensive, high-maintenance, and designed to make people envy him.

  And, like all status symbols, successful men don’t have time to maintain and enjoy them. That Ferrari is rarely taken out for a spin, and George can only fit me in his schedule once a week.

  I don’t have a problem with that. Really, I don’t, but I know I better make these visits worth every penny. If I’m not raring to go at a moment’s notice, I bet he’ll trade me in for a cheaper model. Or worse, someone with all the bells and whistles.

  It can happen. I might get paid to have sex, but that doesn’t mean I’m the most knowledgeable person about the subject. Being a kept woman isn’t about knowing ancient sexual secrets, I remind myself as I stroll into the bedroom. It’s all about attitude. I am to act as if I exist solely for his pleasure.