Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 2

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  I must be insane.

  It didn’t feel insane though. It felt incredible.

  Beneath her shielded eyelids Liza could make out the shadow of Mick’s outline as he towered over her. “Let’s reread this letter. Apart from tying you up, what else was Ryan going to do?”

  Liza could picture the words her ex had written clearly despite her blindfold, she had read them so often. “He…he wanted to tease my body until I begged.”

  “That’s the bit that I’ve wanked about the most.” Dropping to his knees, Mick sent a shower of particles spraying across Liza’s legs. “It’s not the fact you are bound and at my mercy, but that you’re going to have to plead for me to fuck you that’s working the magic.”

  The blanket of ground brick beneath Liza’s body that had initially felt like a soft mattress morphed into unyielding grime-covered earth as Mick spoke. The top layer was sticking to her back, making Liza feel as though she were a living piece of sandpaper. Each time she wriggled her back was scratched, but rather than feeling uncomfortable, it sent ripples of confused desire tripping through her veins.

  Clamping her lips together, Liza squeezed her eyes shut in concentration. No way was she going to beg.

  Mick’s words seemed to come from far away as his fingers recommenced their polishing of Liza’s nipples. “Ryan says he wanted to trail seaweed across your tits. Interesting. The quarry is a bit short of seaweed, so I’m going to have to improvise.”

  Liza didn’t have to wait long to see what Mick would use instead. The unmistakable touch of an empty sand sack being traced over her tender nipples made Liza mewl through her gritted teeth.

  “Is that okay, baby? Good for you?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Her boss’s sudden concern that she was all right added to Liza’s craving for more. Despite her earlier determination, she was already biting back the need to call out for him to fill her with a cock she’d neither seen nor touched.

  Mick kept the sacking traveling, its mildly abrasive surface more arousing than any silk or satin, as tiny specks of caught orange brick exfoliated her breasts, belly, thighs, knees and feet.

  The foreman’s grunts of visual appreciation were becoming more frequent. For a split second Liza wondered if he’d break first, thrusting inside her before she screamed for him to do just that. However, rather than plunging toward Liza’s pussy as she’d hoped, Mick let go of the sacking and sat on her lower legs, trapping her further.

  Inhaling his masculine scent, Liza could taste the aroma of sex and brick dust mingling at the back of her throat, just as Mick poured some baked powder over her naval, making her squirm with desire.

  “You’re so pretty.” Mick repeated the move, and soon Liza had six towers of flaked sandstone balancing on her torso. “Keep still for me, baby. I don’t want these mini-mountains to fall down.”

  “But, I don’t think…” Liza’s protest was cut short as the sack was abruptly and unexpectedly swung against the tip of her right nipple. “Fuck!”

  Mick’s laugh was hoarse and rather strangled. “Was that an instruction or a yelp of lust?”

  Not waiting for an answer, the foreman raised the now-twisted sackcloth and struck Liza’s left nipple. The fact she’d been expecting the move made the pain sharper this time as her body had tensed in preparation.

  Gasping at the contrast between the continuing sharp spanks of the canvas, and the light caress of the dust, Liza gave another involuntary leap within the confines of the ropes, causing the grit that hadn’t already fallen to scatter across her flesh.

  “Fuck, baby; you’re fantastic.” Dropping the sack, Mick placed his hands on Liza’s stomach. Smoothing the ginger dust over her belly, he made her gasp anew as he slid a single digit over her clit.

  As Mick traced dust-spotted sex juice over her nub, Liza forgot her private pact to make as little noise as possible in case it traveled across to the workers on the other side of the quarry.

  Moaning with delight, she felt her pussy twitch, her entire being craving more. Just as Liza thought she was going to break and plead for him to screw her, Mick moved away. The total abandonment of his touch was more painful than the strike of the sacking against her nipples. A frightening feeling of neglect engulfed Liza.

  “Mick?”

  Stroking her fringe from her covered eyes, Mick was soothing. “Sorry, baby, I had to strip. If you had any idea how hard my cock is you’d understand.”

  Relief coursed through Liza’s veins as he sat down again, the weight of his cock against her thigh.

  Taunting her pussy with one palm, Mick ran a finger from his other hand through the sprinkled grit on her stomach.

  “That wasn’t in the letter.” Liza breathed out each word. “It tickles.”

  “I told you. I’m improvising.” Mick swirled patterns across her skin. “If you can tell me what I’m drawing I’ll push my finger inside. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes! I…” Liza bit down on her lips. She would not beg.

  Running a hand through Liza’s tangled hair, Mick smiled. “Don’t worry baby. I know that wasn’t you groveling. Not yet anyway. So, what am I drawing?”

  Following the tantalizing movement of his finger with her imagination, Liza felt curling knots of an approaching climax gathering within her. “A flower!”

  “Correct.” Mick pushed his finger so that just the tip was hidden within her.

  Digging her toes into the ground beneath her, Liza felt a new layer of perspiration break out on her chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the late afternoon sun. Having such an insubstantial filling was somehow worse than nothing at all, and Liza couldn’t stop herself straining against her bindings, trying to slide closer to Mick’s hand.

  “No you don’t.” He slapped her breasts with his palm, making Liza groan with pleasure. “That’s cheating baby, but if you guess what I’m drawing next, I’ll push my finger deeper.”

  Panting hard, Liza tried to focus on the movement of Mick’s fingertip as it swept through the brick dust, but it just felt like random lines. Panic gripped her for a second time. What if I can’t guess? Will he leave me? Abandon me so the workers see me like this?

  “I-I don’t know!”

  Mick silently repeated his drawing action. Liza could still feel his cock against her leg. She was convinced it was becoming hotter as well as harder.

  Think. Think… There are lines, like a diamond shape, but it’s crossed through and there’s a tail…

  “Ummm…kite. It’s a kite.”

  “Good girl.” Easing his finger in up to the knuckle, Mick reveled in Liza’s whimper of partial relief. “Tell me how badly you want me to push my finger all the way in and I’ll add another one, or maybe two. Or I might kiss those magnificent tits.”

  Liza didn’t trust herself to answer. If she answered him she’d be begging. But if one of them didn’t break soon then the laborers would start arriving, and there wouldn’t be time to come at all.

  In the contest between desire and pride, desire had won.

  “Please, Mick.”

  “Please what, baby?”

  Swearing under her breath now that Mick was going to actually make her say the words, Liza exhaled in jerky gulps.

  “Please, Mick, please push it in. No! Sod your fingers, I want your cock. Fuck me!”

  There was no hesitation. Abandoning his manipulation of her mound, Mick lined up his sheathed cock and sank against Liza’s tethered body.

  Muffling her satisfaction with his mouth to prevent the sound of their rough coupling traveling across the open quarry, Mick pinched Liza’s taut nipples in time to each thrust of his hips. Taking out the frustration of his own wait for a climax on Liza’s imprisoned frame, the foreman gloried in the way her limbs tugged at their bindings and her breasts jiggled as an orgasm started to ricochet through her beautifully trapped curves.

  As Mick’s release built to the point of no return, he pulled off Liza’s blindfold so he could witne
ss the shine in her eyes and savor the glorious, blissed-out expression on her face as she tumbled into climax.

  Less than a minute later, Mick eased Liza to her feet, wiping as much brick dust off her stained flesh as he could. “Quickly, my orange girl. Get inside and dress. We’ll shower later. The first workers will be here soon.”

  Grinning widely as Mick supported her unsteady body, Liza looked at where she’d lain. An angel-shaped imprint of her tethered outline was etched in the brick dust. “You never had any intention of us getting caught, did you?”

  “No way.” Mick scuffed out the evidence of what they’d done with his foot. “Ryan was an idiot. Why would anyone want to blow his chances of having his other wank-time fantasies come true?”

  “You have other fantasies about me?”

  Pulling Liza closer, inhaling the scent of sex that radiated from her body, Mick pointed to the far side of the quarry. “Do you see the metal post that supports the overseer’s platform?” “Yes?”

  “I want you tied to that. Upright, naked and gagged. With a butt plug keeping your ass hot and ready.”

  A shiver of renewed desire ran over Liza’s body. “Ready for what?”

  “You’ll see, baby. You’ll see.”

  BEAUTIFUL BROKEN THINGS

  Garnell Wallace

  He seemed to have walked off the latest GQ cover into the quaint lobby of the Bob Marley Resort. I turned from admiring the deep blue of the Bahamian ocean, and when I saw him, I hoped he wasn’t the man I was waiting for. But when he looked straight at me and smiled, I knew I was in serious trouble.

  Dressed in a gunmetal gray business suit with a crisp white shirt and yellow tie, his presence immediately filled the room. His skin looked like milk chocolate where it wasn’t covered by a full, dark beard. He had to be about six-four, with broad shoulders, a straight nose, wide mouth and dark-roast eyes.

  I’d prayed that he wasn’t as beautiful as his voice, which was deep and dark, with that special quality some men have to make a woman wet from just the sound of it. We’d spoken a few times on the phone as I made arrangements to come to the Bahamas to sell my house during spring break from my teaching job.

  He’d left me a long voice mail on one occasion, telling me how much he loved my house. The passion in his voice as he’d talked about period details and original charm was how most men would talk about a woman, and I’d found myself replaying his messages at night, and one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was touching myself. This man made me cream with just the timbre of his voice. He was dangerous.

  Everything I felt for him went against my Christian beliefs and forty years of my mother’s warnings that unbridled passion could not be trusted. I needed to sell this house and get back to my life, which included a nice man from my church who I knew was about to ask me out. Carlton was the kind of man I needed: nice, Christian and willing to wait until we were married to have sex. I’d managed to keep my principles for forty years, but this man threatened to shake the foundation of my life. I didn’t act like a good Christian woman whenever I thought about him.

  I’d hoped he wouldn’t match his voice, that he was made for radio, but good god he was meant to be seen. It took me a second to realize that I was staring immobilized until he began moving in my direction. I clamped my mouth shut and stood up.

  “Naima Thornton?”

  Unable to speak, I nodded. I felt my face revealed everything I had done in my bedroom.

  “I’m Zion Butler.”

  He held out his hand and it took me about half a second to remember what a handshake was. When I placed my hand in his, my entire body felt his touch. Sharp electrical currents exploded in my stomach like fireworks. I’d never been interested in a man with facial hair, but now, I couldn’t imagine anything sexier. I felt him in my toes, and an insistent ache pooled in my pussy. I’d never had such an attraction to a man, and it left me breathless. I didn’t realize I’d swayed toward him until strong hands reached out and grabbed me.

  “Are you all right?” he inquired.

  I smiled in embarrassment. “I’m not used to this heat.”

  He flashed a smile. “Then don’t come here in August, mama! ”

  Him calling me mama made me smile. It must be an island thing.

  He indicated a pair of club chairs. “Would you like to sit for a minute?”

  He still held on to one arm, which he caressed, sending even more heat through me.

  “I think we should see the house before we lose the light,” I told him breathlessly.

  Zion turned and placed his hand at the small of my back. His fingers burned through my sundress. He led me out to a big black truck and made sure I was comfortable before walking around to the driver’s side. He easily filled the space, and I desperately reached for my seat belt and strapped myself in to keep from jumping on him.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Zion said softly after he pulled out into traffic.

  “He wasn’t my father,” I corrected. “He walked out on me and my mother when I was six. I saw him maybe three times over the years until I was fourteen, when I informed him that I was now a little too old to believe his empty promises.”

  He’d given me nothing but my name, a broken heart and now, a broken house, which I would sell quickly and use the money to help pay for my wedding whenever Carlton proposed. He didn’t make me feel like Zion did, but I couldn’t base my future on passion.

  “Do you know that Naima was the name of one of John Coltrane’s wives, who supposedly helped him out of drug addiction? I guess James was hoping I’d chase away his demons, but my mom and I weren’t enough to make him happy.”

  Zion shook his head. “James was a rolling stone, a ‘wherever he lay his hat was his home’ type of guy. His first love was always music.”

  “I heard from your father more than I did from him after my mother moved back to Chicago. When I became an adult, he still sent Christmas and birthday cards. When he contacted me last month, I knew something was wrong. We didn’t know James had died until after the French woman he was living with had cremated him. I wonder how long she’d been able to tame him.”

  “Whether people go or stay has more to do with them than you. I tried to make my wife stay, but after ten years of marriage, she decided we married too young and she needed to be on her own.” He sighed. “I’m scared, but my life goes on.”

  “I’m sorry.” I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but instead I stared out the window so Zion couldn’t see my tears. There was just something about his voice that made me feel so vulnerable. I’d always detested men who dared to call themselves fathers just because their come encountered an egg, but James’s passing had brought about a measure of sympathy and a host of other emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with. Ever since I’d heard about his death, I’d slowly regressed to a six-year-old girl who didn’t know why daddy had left.

  “You know my dad was James’s business manager back in the day.” Zion’s voice pushed away my musings.

  “My father took the first big check James ever got and purchased a house because he feared James would spend it foolishly. I don’t think he ever lived in the house. Over the last few years, I tried to buy it from him, but he would always say it was for his baby. He said he’d never given you anything and it was the one thing of value he had. I’m surprised he never told you about it.”

  I shook my head. “All I wanted was him.” I clamped down on my emotions and stared out of the window for the rest of the drive, not really seeing the beauty of the island sliding by. I wasn’t about to pour my heart out to this dangerous man, no matter how much I wanted to melt against him.

  The drive passed in silence with each of us locked in our own musings. I was glad when we pulled up to the house and I had something else to concentrate on besides my pain and the effort it took to resist Zion.

  The house had three stories, with what looked like wraparound porches on all levels. I got out and stared dispassionately at
it. Whatever color the rotten exterior had been had long faded to a dull gray. Most of the front windows were broken, and the yard was a colorful, riotous mess.

  “God I need to fix this up just to get rid of it,” I muttered.

  “I’ll make it easy for you and buy it from you right now, just as she is,” Zion offered. “I have to admit, I’ve snuck inside a few times, and she’s gorgeous.”

  I flashed him a skeptical look. “I’m sure whatever was of any value is long gone. You want me to believe there are no thieves here?”

  “There are, and the house has been stripped, but a beautiful woman doesn’t need clothes and makeup; she’s beautiful just as she was made. Your father rented out the house, but to be honest, she has really fallen into serious disrepair over the last twenty-five years. Most people would just tear her down and build new; it would be easier and cheaper.”

  “But you are not most people, right? Why would you want a house like this?”

  Zion shrugged. “I guess I have a penchant for beautiful broken things. In the right hands, she can come to life again.”

  Something in his voice made me take my eyes from the house and look at him. His eyes were too intense to be talking about a house. He didn’t know me well enough to know what I needed. I looked back at the house. All I saw was rotten wood, a sagging roof and layers of dirt. But maybe Zion could see beauty where I couldn’t. “Let’s check out the house before we lose the light.”

  Reluctantly, I followed him up crumbling wide steps to the front door, which opened on loud, rusty hinges.

  “Just watch your step,” Zion warned.

  I stepped in after him, and the only things I saw on three levels were a thick layer of dust, rotted wood, crumbling walls and garbage in each room. There were some prewar details, but I didn’t think they could be salvaged. Zion, however, saw beauty where I could only see ashes, and the passion in his voice when he explained his plans for a full restoration made me wet. That voice of his was lethal.

  In the attic, he paused to take a call, and when he left in search of a better signal, I felt like the life had been sucked out of the room. How had I come to need him so much in such a short time? Like a bee desperate for sweet nectar, I followed after a few minutes.