She let his hardness slip from her mouth, sweetly kissed the tip and then smiled up at him and said, “Okay.”
Standing, she put her hands on his waist and maneuvered him to the chair. He sat, his hands still bound. She wasted no time removing her panties. When her pussy was naked, and on beautiful view, she did something that sent his world wobbling. With saucy panache and a lot of suggestive leering, she put the scrap of panties on the seat cushion beneath him, tucking the edges under his balls.
“There,” she cooed while having a lovely tickle. “Now the chair won’t get ruined if there’s any…drippage.”
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
She scooted his ass around until she liked what she saw and then without any fanfare whatsoever, lowered onto his rigid cock with the grace of a horny ballerina.
When the history of lap dances was written, this needed a five-star rating.
He was sure he’d never been this hard or so turned on, ever, and he spent half a second entertaining sending her pole dance instructor a thank you note.
With her feet on the floor she had maximum control over the outrageous fuck. Up, down, side to side, rolling her hips in sloppy circles. She covered a lot of territory.
While she rode him, Amy played with his nipples, licked and sucked his neck and bit him on the shoulder.
She took his face in her hands and held fast. “Don’t let this go to your head,” she told him with a honeyed growl, “but I love your cock.”
To prove her point, she subjected him to a quick series of furious thrusts followed by groan-inducing strokes so slow and deep he started to lose it.
She slammed down on him and moaned. Her pussy fisted his fat cock in rhythmic pulses.
He felt it when she stopped being in control. Clutching his shoulders, she plastered her body to his and undulated like a rodeo star until a flood of incredibly hot moisture drenched his cock and leaked onto his balls.
Whimpering into his ear, she bit him and begged for his cock to fuck her deeper.
He loved seeing her get off. Her glorious cunt squeezed the fucking life from his shaft while she shuddered, dug her nails into his neck and exploded with a mind-numbingly sexy climax that curled his toes.
She continued writhing on his hard staff after her orgasm passed.
“Goddamit Amy.” He groaned and bucked his hips. The desire to empty inside her was strong.
She deftly reached behind him and released the cuffs. The second his hands were free he grabbed her around the waist and stood. With her impaled on his dick, he walked down the hallway to the bed, dropped her to the mattress and put her legs on his shoulders.
Firmly holding her thighs, he pulled back and slammed into her again and again. She waved her hands, clutching at the air and finally found the comforter underneath her heaving body. Gripping it for leverage, she answered his brutal strokes.
He watched her and laughed. “Whose cock do you love?”
“Oh my god, David. Shut up and fuck me.”
He got her off again only this time she erupted with a flood of juicy cum that drenched the bed. His bad girl was a squirter. Before the final spasms of her orgasm died, he grabbed her ass for leverage and stroked until oblivion overtook him. His cock throbbed and spurted deep in her pussy. He stared at her face while he came. She looked a little dazed.
When he was finished, he pumped her a few times for good measure. Pushing his cum deep, he shuddered one last time and then withdrew. He held her legs open and studied her swollen pussy. After a few seconds, the creamy aftermath dribbled from her slit and down the crack of her ass.
Mission accomplished. She was full of him, and when he sipped cocktails with the Mayor later tonight, he’d be doing so with his dick cum-covered and hungry for more.
He yanked her off the bed. She yelped and smacked his arm. “Hey. Don’t manhandle the goods.”
“Fuck off,” he growled. “March your bad self into the living room before I forget my manners and take your ass too.”
As she started into the living room, he was enjoying the sight of her naked ass when she suddenly whirled around and giggled.
“Mr. Sanderson,” she purred. “I do believe part of you is dripping down my leg.”
He swatted her ass. “Like that, do you? Well, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
She gasped and pretended to be offended. “I beg your pardon!”
“Your cunt begs better than your mouth. Coming inside you as often as possible is my new life goal.”
She smirked. “Is that a hashtagged life goal?”
“Yes,” he snickered. “Hashtag cum-filled fucked pussy.”
“Say that five times real fast,” she teased.
He slowly put his clothes on while she stood by and watched. Scooping her panties from the floor, he offered the damp scrap to her.
She laughed and crumpled them into a tiny ball. “No need since there will be no Josh.” She tucked the naughty lingerie into his back pocket. “There,” she said as she caressed his butt. “Maybe Violet will reach into your pocket and find a surprise.”
Speaking of reaching into a pocket, David slung the tie around his neck and picked up his jacket. Amy surprised him by taking over with the tie. When she was finished, he was perfectly attired and sliding his arms into the jacket she held for him.
Something about her behavior was surprising. He could feel her conflict. She didn’t want to play any more games.
Thank God.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her sweetly. “I love you. After tonight you’ll never have to think about Violet again. That’s a promise.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry for us being together.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “There is no sorry. We’re going to show everyone how it’s done.”
She frowned slightly and held onto his hands. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know,” he told her. “You never have been good with the dirty quickie.”
“I need more.”
“So do I,” he assured her.
She gazed at him with so much love and longing that he couldn’t look away. And then he remembered what was in his pocket.
Letting go of her face, he kissed her on the nose and withdrew the distinctive blue box from his coat.
“What’s this?” she asked with startled wonder.
“Every ending is a beginning. Once Violet is sitting on the curb, it’s you and me the rest of the way. Together. This is me, reminding you, how precious you are.”
“Oh, David,” she murmured. “You know I don’t need things.”
“In that case, this might be more for me than for you. Open it.”
Her long, soft gasp when she saw the shiny, jeweled bangle filled his heart with joy.
“Is it real?” she asked.
“Of course it’s real, honey. Ya’ do know I’m a wealthy guy, right?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, we’ve met before.”
He plucked the bangle out of the box, flipped the hinge and hooked it around her wrist.
“First of many,” he murmured.
She stared at the bracelet, held it up and twisted her wrist for better viewing. Then a devilish glint appeared in her eyes.
“Aw, shit.”
“What?” he asked with real concern.
“I’m gonna have to give in on the ass play now, huh?”
He arched his neck and barked with genuine laughter. “Seriously? All it took was some bling? Man, I’ve been going about this all wrong.”
“All right, you,” she playfully chided. “Hit the road. Miss Deep Freeze awaits. Say hi to your mom for me.”
He arched a brow. “Maybe I should.”
“You do, and I’ll cry.”
“Well, we know how I react to tears.”
“Exactly. Now be gone. Shoo. Go to your mother’s stupid cocktail party.”
“Will you be here later,” he asked hopefully.
&n
bsp; “No. I’d just sit here and imagine all sorts of stuff. It’s better for both of us if I go home and let my family drama distract me.”
“Please don’t worry.”
“I can’t help it. All this time in the shadows has made me,” she looked around the room like she was searching for a word. “Unsure. That’s the word. Unsure.”
He was confused. “Of me?”
“No. Not really. It’s more general than something specific. We’ve been hiding for so long that I don’t know how to act.”
He nodded his understanding.
“Hey, I know what we should do.”
She searched his face and waited.
“Amy Peters,” he soberly intoned. “Would you like to go out? With me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“A date,” he told her. “You and me. Dinner, dancing and…”
“Dessert?”
“I was going to say making out in the car—standard date behavior, but dessert will do.”
She gave him one hell of a dose of shade and pushed him out the door. “Ask me when there isn’t another woman waiting on your sorry ass.”
Before he could utter a comeback, she twinkled her fingers and said, “Ta ta.” Then the door shut in his face.
He walked to his car grinning the entire way.
Chapter Six
“Something seems different tonight Stinky Pants. You have a certain glow about you.”
A damning burst of blush-induced heat gathered at the back of his neck. The only thing saving his dignity was the fact that they were outside on the terrace where a moonless night provided plenty of shadows and darkness.
Patsy was playing with him. The amused tinkle in her otherwise gruff delivery was the giveaway.
Swirling the two olives on a cocktail pick in his standard dirty martini, David knew the attempt he made to deflect her attention was going to be lame at best. His aunt had some sort of radar or internal bullshit detector.
A convoluted tale, to cover a lie in order to shift attention, stuck in his throat. Why fucking bother?
But he wasn’t ready to concede defeat and spill his guts—what fun would that be—so he decided to play off his aunt’s outrageously inappropriate sense of humor and spread it on thick.
Doing a quick mental mea culpa for the macho-pig raft of shit about to tumble off his tongue, he snickered before taking a half sip of his drink.
She beat him to the starting line though and stole his thunder with neat, Patsy Loman precision.
“Getting laid then, are you?”
Oh, Jesus Christ. How the hell had he and Missy turned out anywhere near normal? David chuckled and shook his head.
Rather than admit to anything he came back with a familiar taunt. “Jealous, much?”
“I knew it!” she shrieked after landing a swat on his arm for emphasis. “I told Quinn it’s the only explanation for your dewy glow and shit eating smirk.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s fucked up that you and my mother gossip about my sex life.”
She laughed, leaned closer and cackled right in his face. “Twelve hours of labor and an alley cat as a husband gives her, and me, the right.”
“Tell me again how my mother’s labor and delivery involved you?”
Patsy laughed, shoved him with her elbow and blew smoke into the dark sky above their heads. For reasons that were currently a mystery, his aunt had a sudden, deep interest in cigars. Her present annoying habit involved smoking Swisher Sweets, bad enough, but this new ritual required intermittent gulps of Jim Bean.
“Just to be clear, we’ll be doubling back to the getting laid thing.”
He sipped the martini and peered at her over the glass with an angelic smile.
“Save it for someone else,” she said with a rude hand gesture. “Since you brought up your father...”
“Did not,” he grumbled.
“Shut up Stinky. As I was saying,” she tartly drawled, “How is the old fart? Still rum-running in the Florida Keys?”
Okay, now that was funny, he thought. Patsy gave good snark.
“He runs a charter fishing operation, and the last time Missy went with me to visit, I looked around and found no evidence of pirated rum.” He stuck out his tongue like a snotty kid and ended with, “Hmph, so there.”
“I can’t believe you even talk to him.”
“I can’t believe after all this time that you care.”
His bald statement shut her down for less than five seconds.
“He hurt your mother,” she stated.
David sensed the old wound opening up and wondered why now of all times this subject was coming up.
“They hurt each other, Patsy.” He said the words quietly but with firm assurance. “She wanted one thing, and he wanted something else.”
It was the politest way he’d ever found for describing the painful truth about his parents' unhappy marriage.
He rested his hips against the stone balustrade and set his drink down. If they were going to get into it, he didn’t want to be holding a potentially dangerous object.
Expecting the same old, same old—a rehashing of the groan-inducing tale about the beautiful but cold heiress and her ill-fated union with a man who thought he was marrying a flesh and blood woman only to discover his folly—it took him a few seconds to catch up when Patsy went off on a different tear.
“She figured it out, you know. Eventually.” Patsy’s shoulder lifted. She puffed on the thin cigar and blew some pretty spectacular smoke rings into the blackness.
“I blame your grandparents. They filled her head with nonsense. You know the drill,” she murmured. “Duty. Responsibility. Appearances. All priorities. Feelings and stupid shit like dreams or aspirations were off limits.”
Every word was truth. His mother’s parents were paper doll cut-outs of what old school society, wealth, and way too fucking many privileges looked like. He and Missy used to joke that their grandparents didn’t need a refrigerator because they were both so cold.
“What are you saying?”
She looked at him with a weird expression on her face. When she answered, his world wobbled ever so slightly.
“Did you know it was a set-up? Jimmy and Quinn.”
He blinked. “Say again?”
“Yeah,” Patsy answered. “I wouldn’t say theirs was an arranged marriage, but it came awfully damn close.”
“What. The. Fuck.”
“Sorry, Stinky. The unvarnished truth comes down to this - your grandparents picked him. He was a junior executive at a competing company.”
He didn’t know what to say. What to do. So he sat frozen and gaped at his aunt while she spoke.
“Jimmy Sanderson was what everyone called a nice guy.”
David inwardly cringed when she added air quotes. Being described as a nice guy was second only to being called a pussy.
“He fell for Quinn hook, line, and sinker.” She laughed, and he frowned. “Sorry, had to throw in the fishing reference for shits and grins.”
Discarding the cigar, she polished off the tumbler of bourbon and sat across from him in a swiveling wicker chair.
“I think in her own way, she was fond of him.”
He cringed again. Fond. Ugh. Nothing quite beats finding out he and his sister were the products of fond.
“Buuuut,” Patsy added, “Some part of her hated him for being so nice. Her parents chewed Jimmy up and spat him out.”
Feeling compelled to defend his dad he sulkily muttered, “She treated him like shit.”
“Yeah, I know.” Patsy caught his gaze. “She knows it too.”
Whoa. Hold on. What? This was huge. Nah, fuck that. This was bigger than that. Maybe huge’s older brother, gargantuan.
“Mistakes were made by both parties.” His aunt’s tone left a lot to wonder about.
A question circled in his mind, so he asked it. “Why the retrospect? What are you guys up to?”
She glanced at a window partially obscur
ed by climbing vines. Inside the palatial manor, his mother's weekly cocktail event was rolling along.
The Mayor and her husband were the evening’s star guests. Quinn handily navigated the social scene in a way that, while somewhat scripted, never failed to make her guests feel welcome.
Missy was somewhere—probably canoodling in a corner with her professor boyfriend.
He liked Tom Wilkerson well enough. Missy thought he walked on water and that’s what mattered. Their mother’s tedious attitude toward the unpretentious scholar was just par for the course. Because Tom was just a regular guy who wasn’t eyeing up a run for Senate and didn’t have a big bank account, Quinn showed little interest in him personally.
A shame too because the guy was Big Bang Theory smart and could babble for hours about time-space theories and all sorts of random subjects.
His date for the evening was also somewhere in the small group of people. When he walked off to share a private moment with Patsy, he noticed Violet was talking some poor guy’s face off. He didn’t recognize the man, but by his expression, David was going to assume he was deciding whether to jump ship or not.
“Did you meet Judge Karalis?”
He felt his eyebrows shoot up. Yeah, he met the guy. He was short and beefy with a gregarious personality. Odd company for his mom to be keeping.
“Well, you might want to get to know him.”
“Why?”
“Mmm,” she growled with a shrug. “Just sayin’.”
If this conversation got any weirder, he was going to need another drink.
“Your date looks bored.”
He took the olives from his empty glass and pulled them off the pick with his teeth. “She always looks bored. It’s the Botox. I figure she can only give two expressions. Frozen bored or Soul Sucking bored. Take your pick.”
“Sounds like a love match,” she snigger-snorted.
“Well, you know what they say. A surrender a day keeps Mommy at bay.”
“So, what’s that mean? Quinn fucks with your head by making you pretend-date some empty Louboutins, and you just surrender?”
“Surrender may be giving more credit than necessary. Let’s just call Violet Brubaker the low road. Sometimes going low is easier than maneuvering the defensive driving course.”
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