A moan and wiggle caught his attention, and smiling, he went to Jo’s dresser and pulled out a small pair of panties. Balling them up in his palm he approached the bed and sat down, stroking Jo’s back and bottom.
“Is something wrong, honey?” he asked grinning.
“Yes,” she whimpered, just before a deep moan escaped from her throat and her body gave a shiver. For a moment her hips rose and fell and Sam was pretty sure she wasn’t even aware of the sexy show she was putting on. “Are you going to take this out of me?” she asked, breathlessly.
“No, I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. Let’s just slip these panties on you to hold it in place,” Sam replied. Standing, he bent over the bed and pulled the panties over her feet and up her legs. “Lift up a little, honey,” he instructed when he got to her hips, smiling when she obeyed with another guttural moan. Pulling the tight, no-line panties snuggly against her ass, he patted the end of the dildo firmly into place and then rubbed her bottom. “I think wearing this for a while will help prepare you for the real thing,” he told her.
“I think wearing this is going to drive me crazy,” she shot back. “Sam please take it out or at least help me…”
“Help you what, Jo?”
“You ass, you know exactly what you’re doing to me!”
“I know that it’s time for you to get some sleep. You have to be up early tomorrow, and I’ll be here to give you a hand in the morning. Right now I’m going to tuck you in and then lock up and head over to my hotel. I have some paperwork to do and you need your rest,” he informed her calmly as he turned her over, covered her up and kissed her goodnight with a hard, hot kiss. Looking deeply into her mutinous eyes he smiled and nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “You are not to masturbate under any circumstances. I have been more than generous in that department during our nightly sessions this week, and I should think that you would be able to control yourself for one night. If after an hour or two you are unable to sleep with your new toy inside you, you may remove it. Be aware, however, that at some point you and I will begin sharing a bed. I fully intend to spoon you with my cock buried deep inside your tight little pussy at every available opportunity so you might want to think about getting used to it. Goodnight, baby. See you in the morning.”
Jo fumed as she lay in the dark and listened to Sam let himself out. Masturbating was out of the question and he knew it, damn him. Her right hand was bandaged and unless she covered it with a plastic bag while she attempted to pleasure herself, he would smell it in the morning. Never exceptionally good at it anyway, she doubted she could accomplish much with her left hand and even struggling out of the tight panties would be a chore. She tried squeezing her vaginal muscles to eject the offending object that was the source of her displeasure, or pleasure depending on how she looked at it, but it was such a tight fit the only thing that happened was an increased desire for relief. Finally she decided to try and get some sleep. At some point, either during the night or in the morning, she would need to pee and would have to go through the struggle of getting her panties off. May as well kill two birds with one stone, she thought sighing.
Staying mad at Sam was difficult. He was such a kind and generous man, a true gentleman in almost every sense of the word. Jo felt safe and cared for, something that eluded her for most of her childhood and a good portion of her adult life. Other than his penchant for spanking, he was damn near perfect. Just looking at him or hearing his voice was enough to make her wet, and when he touched her she was helpless. Even though they had only known each other a short time, Jo already made her mind up, she was keeping him! He loved her mother on sight, understood Jo’s devotion to her and was ready to assist in any way he could. She’d yet to see him truly angry and unless he turned into a raving maniac, she figured she was smart enough to avoid a few spankings. As far as what he did for a living, she would keep an open mind. Who was she to judge the kind of relationships other people wanted? It wasn’t like she had tons of experience anyway. Her friend Lori and Lori’s husband, Todd, seemed to have a good marriage and she always thought Todd was kind of strict, but he was in law enforcement and Jo figured you couldn’t be a pussy in that line of work. Todd was always kind and considerate when she was around, although she’d yet to see Lori go against his wishes. Now that she thought about it, he did have that ‘look’ about him, if there was such a thing. Maybe I’ll talk to Lori about it, Jo thought, just before she finally dozed off.
Sam poured a cup of coffee and went over the files in front of him. It had been a busy and profitable few months for Sugar Babies. On Tuesday, they closed on the property, and within three hours two large moving vans and several vehicles arrived. Jeff, second in command at Sugar Babies and a longtime friend of Sam’s, and Erica, his personal assistant, proved invaluable to him once again. Before long, Erica began supervising the placement of furniture and office equipment. Mike was there busily setting his office and examination rooms to rights, and support staff and security were working on installing cameras, alarms and assorted computer systems. Sam and Jo managed to find time for some shopping, and furniture was being delivered from local stores and arranged in the upstairs living quarters. Erica took care of furnishing the double living rooms, and now there were several seating arrangements created tastefully with area rugs and buttery leather furniture. A bar was installed and stocked; the fireplace was ready to go should the weather turn cool; and the glass of the French doors that opened onto the veranda reflected the glow of soft lighting. The veranda was furnished with comfortable wicker furniture and large potted plants ensured privacy.
Chapter Ten
Mike let himself in the front door with the set of keys Brandy had given him. She had graciously offered to let him rent a room in her home while he searched for a place of his own. Secretly, he hoped the arrangement would allow him to get to know Brandy, an enchanting woman from all he had seen, better. At the moment, he was tired, hungry and looking forward to a quiet evening; maybe sharing a glass of wine with his new landlord and listening to some music. Her car was in the driveway so he called out, not wanting to startle her. He needn’t have bothered.
“What the fuck! Dammit, that was my favorite bowl,” she screamed from the vicinity of the kitchen. “This is bullshit after the day I’ve had!” she continued as the sound of breaking pottery reverberated through his head.
Well, he hadn’t had the best day either, he thought, heading toward the doorway. He had completed examinations on six Sugar Babies candidates, attended a meeting that just seemed to go on and on and removed the stitches from Johanna’s hand while she screamed bloody murder. Sam practically had to sit on her, making the procedure just that much more painful for Johanna and certainly frustrating for him. Now, instead of the peaceful evening he had envisioned, all hell was breaking loose in the kitchen.
“What a fucking mess,” Brandy moaned.
The ear buds in her ears prevented her from hearing Mike as he pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks. Even on her hands and knees, surrounded by broken pottery and spaghetti sauce she was tempting. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her full heart-shaped ass filled her jeans perfectly. Unfortunately, her language left something to be desired as she continued to curse like a sailor. He called her name twice before he leaned down and tapped her on the bottom, causing her to scream louder as the pieces she’d gathered flew out of her hands. She turned so quickly, she lost her balance and ended up sitting in a saucy mess that he could only hope had no glass fragments in it.
“Son of a bit..!” she screamed. “You scared the shit out of me. Do you always sneak up on people?” she demanded, still on high volume.
Squatting, Mike reached out, removed the ear buds and plucked the MP3 player out of the front pocket of her shirt. The music was still blasting from the tiny speakers when he turned it off. It’s a wonder she’s not deaf, he thought.
“Give me your hands, I’ll help you up,” he instructed calmly.
“I said give me your hands,” Mike repeated, a glint in his eye that was not unfamiliar to Brandy.
“No, Mike, no,” she pleaded. “I’m covered with sauce. Just hand me a dishtowel and I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I screamed; I didn’t hear you come in and you scared me.”
“You wouldn’t have heard a bulldozer pushing through the front wall with the way you had those speakers turned up. Now, are you going to cooperate or do I need to look for a wooden spoon? I’m sure there’s one around here somewhere,” he said, looking around the kitchen.
“Okay, okay,” she caved, reaching out her hands so he could pull her to her feet, which he accomplished easily, despite what she always thought of as her enormous size. “Did you hurt your back?” she asked breathlessly.
“No, but I’m going to hurt your ass if I hear one more crack out of you about your weight,” he told her in exasperation. “Now, are you hurt anywhere?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she answered with a gulp.
“No cuts or abrasions?” he asked, looking her over, trying to make sure the red was all sauce and no blood.
“I’m fine, really. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” Brandy apologized with a blush.
“It’s hard to hear when you’re swearing a blue streak,” he scolded her. “I don’t believe I’ve heard some of those words since my college days. I take it you were making dinner. Are you expecting someone?” he asked softly, hoping he hadn’t taken anything for granted.
“No, only you,” she admitted, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I thought you might be hungry and we could have dinner together?”
“That’s a nice idea,” Mike answered with a small smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I don’t think it’s going to work out tonight. Why don’t you go get cleaned up and we’ll go out for dinner?”
“I’d like that,” she replied. “Just let me get this mess cleaned up and…”
“I don’t think so,” he told her, looking at her bare feet. “It’s a wonder you haven’t cut your feet. I’ll clean it up and meet you in the living room in say, oh, forty- five minutes.”
“I can’t let you do that, Mike. It’s my mess after all and…”
“You can’t let me?” he asked, as an eyebrow rose in silent challenge.
“Well, yes, I guess I can, if you’re going to be that way about it,” she capitulated quickly, prepared to scurry out of the room. But looking down at her feet, she was momentarily stumped; they were covered with sauce and she would track it through the entire house.
Seeing her dilemma, Mike put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the counter. Swinging her sideways, he eased her feet into the sink and turned the sprayer on. Within minutes he had the sauce washed off and her feet soapy as he carefully checked for shards of glass.
Brandy caught her breath and held it, lest the moan escape her lips. It was incredibly sensual to watch his large hands as they bathed her feet. He had a wonderfully firm yet gentle touch and had picked her up as though she weighed next to nothing, which was far from the truth.
“There. Problem solved,” he said, drying her feet with a clean towel. Scooping her off the counter he eased her slowly down to the floor, far from the shattered pottery.
“Sure it’s all fun and games until someone gets a hernia,” she quipped without thinking, embarrassed by the erotic images her mind had conjured up. He hadn’t done anything of a sexual nature, yet her heart was pounding so fast she could feel it in her temple.
“Brandy,” he growled, spying a wooden spoon sticking out of a jar on the counter.
“Oops, sorry,” she squealed, shooting through the door. “Boy, some people are so touchy,” she called back over her shoulder.
“You can thank your lucky stars I’m not doing a lot more touching after hearing that atrocious language coming out of those pretty lips,” he called after her, rubbing his hand over his face. Maybe Mrs. Brandy Gordon was going to be a little more trouble than he thought.
Dinner was perfect. She directed him to a quiet little place at the lake and they ate while watching the sunset over the water. The music was soft, the lighting low and the steaks delicious. A casual restaurant, Brandy had dressed in black jeans and a satiny blouse that was either silver or deep gray, depending on the way the light caught it. The candle on the table flickered and after the sun went down, every time he looked out the window, her reflection took his breath away. Her auburn hair was up with little tendrils escaping. Intricate filigree silver earrings dangled from her shell like ears and her gray eyes had a depth he’d never noticed before. All in all, she was beautiful, animated and classy. A complete reversal from the sauce covered, foul-mouthed, sassy woman of a few hours ago.
“I take it that pasta bowl was a family heirloom?” he asked as he sipped his wine.
“No, why would you think that?” she answered, surprised.
“By the way you were carrying on, I figured it was irreplaceable. I thought maybe it was your Grandmother’s or something.”
Setting her fork down, Brandy picked up wine and took a sip, staring at him over the rim of her glass. “Carrying on?” she questioned softly as she cocked her head to one side and thought about what he said. “Yes, I guess I was,” she admitted. “Actually I bought it a few years ago at a barn sale, but I did really like it. I guess my reaction was a little over the top.”
“Over the top?” he asked grinning. “That’s one way to put it. I, on the other hand, would call it a full-fledged temper tantrum. In fact, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to spank you, wash your mouth out with soap or cuddle you until you calmed down. All three would have been appropriate under the circumstances.”
“You could have tried,” she tossed back, picking up her fork and trying very hard not to let her reaction to his words show. “But remember, I was armed with broken pottery and I was pretty slippery. I doubt you would have had much success, at least with the first two options.”
“Oh, so you doubt my male fortitude? You wound me woman,” he sighed dramatically.
Brandy laughed outright, a marvelous sound as far as he was concerned. When the waitress cleared away their dishes, he ordered coffee and a piece of strawberry cheesecake with two forks, despite her objections. The last thing she needed after this indulgent meal was extra calories, but his evil eye caused her to swallow her protest.
“Not one word,” he warned her, as he slid a piece of the creamy dessert into her mouth from his fork.
“Did I say anything?” she asked, moaning in appreciation of the delicious flavor.
“No, but you were thinking about it,” he answered, taking a large bite himself.
“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” she challenged, grinning.
Turning serious, Mike reached across the table and took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her palm. “Yes,” he answered. “I do think I know you quite well. It’s only been a little over two weeks, but I know you well enough to tell that today’s melt down wasn’t simply because you broke a dish, honey. Why don’t you tell me what the trouble is?”
Brandy tried to pull her hand back, but he wasn’t having it. Her other hand began fluttering around and her mouth opened, but no words were forthcoming.
Patiently Mike continued to caress her hand as he watched her struggle with herself. Finally she picked up her coffee and after taking a sip, plopped the cup back down onto the saucer rather forcefully.
“Ok, I’m frustrated,” she hissed. “There, is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Not particularly,” he answered, slightly shocked at her reaction to his simple offer of help. “I’m not trying to upset you, sweetheart. I just want to know what’s wrong. Frustrated about what? Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, sincerely concerned.
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“If only,” she snorted, finally freeing her hand and covering her face. “No, no forget I said that,” she groaned.
“Brandy, you’re being fairly cryptic here,” Mike sighed. He was getting a little frustrated by this point too. “What is it, your job, money… what? Are you sorry you offered for me to stay in your home?”
“No, no and absolutely not,” she insisted firmly. “Although that does seem to be making it worse,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Oh God, can we get out of here?” she pleaded.
“Of course, check please,” he signaled to the waitress.
He took the long way back to her house, driving along the shore of the lake. It was dark inside the car, except for the dash lights and they didn’t allow him to see her face. Brandy was quiet, but fidgeting with the silver charms that dangled from her purse. It was obvious she wasn’t willing to volunteer any further information and he was loath to upset her. What had started out as a nice relaxing dinner had turned into a battle of wills, it seemed. He was determined to find out what was bothering her and she was just as determined to keep it to herself. It was a shame really, because he wasn’t going to be able to let it go. He cared about Brandy; in fact she was the first woman he was attracted to in any meaningful way in very long time. No way was he going to stand by and watch her suffer without trying to help.
Mike replayed their conversation over in his head. He’d start with what he knew. It wasn’t her job and it wasn’t money. He knew she was unhappy with her weight. Most women were, no matter their age or size, but in truth he thought she was damned near perfect. He loved her womanly curves and would work on helping her accept that she was a beautiful, desirable woman, just as she was, but he wouldn’t encourage her to lose weight. She was soft and feminine and it was her perception that needed adjusting, not the numbers on a scale.
A Sweet and Sassy Match Page 9