Cruel to Be Kind

by Stephanie Vaughan

  Releasing Megan as quickly as she’d embraced her, the other woman immediately launched into her rant. “Don’t you ‘hey, babe’ me, miss thing. I want to know why you didn’t leave a number where anyone could reach you. Some of us were worried about you, you selfish little wench.” Pink lipstick that was a perfect match to the t-shirt was expertly painted on full lips that now formed a pout bordering on ostentatious. Perfectly manicured brows arched over equally perfectly made up eyes that narrowed accusingly in Megan’s direction. The hands on the hips were the ultimate punctuation to her friend’s snit.

  “Don’t make the scrunchy face at me, please? I’m in town. I’ll leave you my number and e-mail, I promise.” Knowing the hurt feelings were ninety percent show, Megan added what she hoped would be the peace offering that would soothe the last of the ruffled feathers. “I’ve come to spend money.”

  Looking Megan up and down, Raven turned her attention to Steve. “All right. And are you going to introduce me to this tall drink of water, or will a girl shrivel up and die an old maid first? Hmmm?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “See anything that looks interesting?”

  Megan spoke softly, approaching from the side so quietly Steve hadn’t realized she was there until he heard her question at the same time a hand caressed his ass. A slow, open palmed massage of his butt wasn’t something that happened to him every day. Especially not in public. But the hypnotic feel of her hand moving in circles over his flesh was making the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. He wanted to feel more of that, but without clothes and somewhere he could so something about it.

  “Huh? Uh, yeah. Everything.”

  “Anything in particular catch your eye?”

  After the introductions had been made he had wandered off to look around the store while Megan and Raven had spent a few minutes catching up. While he had been in the Adults Only back room of Remington’s video store, Steve had to admit this was the first store he’d ever seen with a six-foot section devoted to butt plugs.

  “Does that—” He’d spoken without thinking. Just said the first thing that had come into this head. But he cut off what he’d been about to say. He wasn’t sure he could handle the answer.

  Megan looked from the display that stood before them to his face, nothing but curiosity showing on her face. “Does what?”

  Trying for casual, Steve looked around to make sure they weren’t overheard. Seeing that Megan’s friend had returned to her magazine, only occasionally looking their way, he finished his thought. Since there was no one else in the shop at the time he wasn’t sure who he was afraid would listen in. “Does that feel good?” He followed Megan’s eyes as they glanced at the display and back to him.

  “If you do it right, sure. Start small. Use plenty of lubricant. And it helps to be really turned on first. It can be amazing.” Steve didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when Megan took his hand and led him away. “Any time you want to experiment let me know.”

  At a side counter was a collection of bottles. “Are you fussy about scents?”

  Steve picked up the one closest to him. It smelled like roses. “For who?” He reached for another. More woodsy, like juniper.

  “Me. You. Whoever. It’s massage oil.”

  That didn’t sound bad at all. It sounded slippery. Slippery could be nice. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t make me smell like a girl.”

  Adding the last one to a small pile at the register, Megan gave him a smile before turning back to Raven, who had begun totaling the sale. Since he hadn’t seen her pick out anything but the oil Steve took note of what went into the bag. When, in the midst of the oils and small sample-sized tubes a box was slipped in, it caught his attention. Judging from the price on the digital display, it wasn’t something small.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Just a little something for my hope chest.” He wasn’t sure exactly what one of those was, let alone what went into one, but it sounded like a chick thing. His curiosity quotient about tripled when Megan gave him a wicked grin and said, “I hope I get to see you in it someday.”

  Steve lay on the bed, mindlessly clicking through channels with the TV remote. The Kings weren’t playing and nothing was holding his attention. How could it?

  The walk back to the hotel had been uneventful. Megan had slipped an arm around his waist and it had felt completely natural to drop one of his across her shoulders. Besides making it easier to protect her from the bumps and jostles of a crowded sidewalk, it gave him an excuse to hold her.

  And a good thing he’d taken the opportunity because as soon as they’d gotten to the room Megan had disappeared into the bathroom. Sounds of a shower were making him nuts. He could picture the water sluicing over her lithe body, running in streams from her tits, her mound, her ass. Did she want him to join her? In his imagination he did and she welcomed him into not only the over-sized shower stall, but her body as well. But he could also imagine her glaring at him, ordering him out of the bathroom. So he did nothing.

  When she emerged a short time later, she was so transformed Steve had been shocked into silence.

  Gone was the casual girl he was used to seeing. In her place was a stranger. A black suit replaced the denim and sundresses he was familiar with. A blindingly white shirt was buttoned up to her chin with some kind of black pin holding it closed. She’d put her hair up into a twist, pulling it off her face, accenting her cheekbones and adding about ten years to her look. Even her shoes were different. Some kind of wicked stepsister jobs with pointy toes and vicious-looking spiked heels took the place of her usual sandals or sneakers. Most shocking of all, though, was her mouth. She had painted it scarlet.

  “How do I look?”

  Oh, mama. Fuckable. Do me now. Totally fuckable.

  “Uh, great … Different. But great.” He was babbling. Steve knew he sounded idiotic, but what did she expect?

  “Good. Why don’t you have room service send up some dinner? Take a shower. Relax.” Stepping between his legs as he’d sat sprawled in a chair, unable to move or speak, Megan had leaned over to brace her arms on the chair next to his. “Think about what you’d like to do when I get back.”

  Then she had kissed him.

  A self-assured kiss, as powerful as the image she projected in her severe black, it was a kiss of ownership.

  And then, before Steve could react and kiss her back, Megan was walking away. Opening the door. Stepping through. “I was going to say don’t touch yourself while I’m gone. But I changed my mind. In fact, I think you probably should. When I come back I want this to last more than thirty seconds. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  But he’d been talking to the door. She was gone.

  That was nearly three hours ago. He’d done as she suggested, ordering a burger with everything from room service. A salad, too. Extra fries with Thousand Island dressing. Steve was hoping he’d need the extra carbs and fat for energy.

  He’d done the other thing she’d suggested, too. In the shower, after scrubbing away the dirt and grime from the day’s work, he had washed his hair with the hotel’s shampoo. Then, while the pulsating waves of water had pounded his back, Steve had soaped his hand and thought of Megan.

  What would she do when she came back? Tie him up again? A jolt of excitement shot through him as he remembered what it had felt like. So what if he was a sick puppy? He’d never felt anything like it, before or since, and he wanted that feeling again. He shoved himself into his hand over and over, pretending it was Megan’s sweet pussy that was clasping him so tightly. “Fuck me,” she’d said and it hadn’t been a request. Steve closed his eyes and remembered what it had felt like—imagined what it would feel like tonight. It was nothing like the real thing, but it would have to do until Megan got back.

  Thank God that was over.

  Megan shocked herself with her uncharitable thought. She loved Patrice. Patrice knew her in ways probably no other person on the planet did.
And cared for her the same way. Megan didn’t like this side of herself. She should be able to put other things aside and have dinner with an old friend.

  But the siren call of what was waiting for her upstairs had her ear and wouldn’t stop whispering in it. It was exquisite torture and Megan drew it out as long as she could, even asking Patrice if she would like to order dessert. Her old friend had graciously declined, though.

  “No, I’ll let you go. As wonderful as it is to see you again I can tell you have other things on your mind.”

  She had started to object, but Patrice only looked at her with those patient, worldly eyes.

  “I never could hide anything from you,” Megan gave in, at last.

  “It is no great trick, my dear. I think even the waiter, he knows you have somewhere to go. You glow, Megan.”

  After that Megan had waited with Patrice while the valet brought her car. The twenty-year-old Mercedes was like everything belonging to her mentor, top quality and redolent of quiet, old money. They embraced and Patrice brought tears to Megan’s eyes with her farewell.

  “Take care, my dear. Listen to your heart—it is wiser than your head.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “And if it is more than one month before I hear from you again, be warned. I will take a crop to your backside the next time I see you. Don’t think I won’t.” Patrice might have been laughing when she said it, but Megan believed her.

  “No, ma’am.”

  The walk back to her room gave Megan time to reflect. Seeing Patrice had helped Megan turn a corner in her mind, she realized. Seeing her old friend, being in the city of her biggest disappointment, and knowing she had not only survived but moved on, was freeing somehow.

  So that when the aged elevator finally deposited Megan on her floor and she found herself in front of her door, all the old energy that had been locked up inside her with nowhere to go came flooding back. When she opened the door, it felt like the start of something important.

  He was on the bed, naked save for a pair of boxers, one hand on the clicker, one hand in the shorts. Maybe it was her imagination, but Megan liked the idea that she could still see the stain of her lipstick on him from their last kiss.

  “Ready?”

  His eyes had been on her the second she’d stepped into the room. He nodded.

  “Really?” She let her voice infuse just a hint of skepticism—disapproval, even. She had to remember, though, that he was new to role playing. She would have to watch him carefully for any sign that it had stopped being fun. “You don’t look ready. Why are you wearing those shorts? Why are you dressed at all, for that matter? Take them off. Then come over here and serve me.”

  Steve hustled off the bed with an enthusiasm that was most pleasing. Stripping off the offending garment, he tossed it at a nearby chair, not noticing when it missed and landed on the floor. His erection jutted forward eagerly as he came to stand in front of her. “Yes, ma’am. I’m ready.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. And for future reference, the next time I tell you to wait for me, I expect to find you naked. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Megan loved the twinkle in his eye even as he uttered the subservient words. He thought he was playing. But she could tell it was turning him on just the same.

  “We’ll have to teach you a proper greeting, including a decent bow.” Let him stew on that for a few seconds. “But that can wait. Help me off with my clothes, slave.”

  A little pent-up breath was expelled when Steve moved to obey. Megan could tell, like most men, he was at a loss when it came to women’s clothing, so she held her arms away from her body, indicating she wanted help with the jacket. He unbuttoned the single closure the suit owned, easing it cautiously from her shoulders. The title had been a risk—he would either love it or hate it. Since he hadn’t walked out in a huff she concluded he liked the little buzz it gave him and moved on to her skirt and blouse.

  Removing her skirt had taken several long minutes, with each miniscule tug downward on one side matched by another on the opposite side. All the while he had breathed hot, moist air across her dripping pussy, as he had dropped easily to his knees for the task.

  By the time they got to her blouse, Megan had concluded she had an impudent slave on her hands. No one could possibly fumble that badly with buttons, taking so long she had had to grit her teeth to keep from keening in frustration. Each attempt at the buttons—particularly the ones near her breasts—was accompanied by maneuvering that somehow managed to brush the tips of her nipples, teasing them into taut little nubs.

  Finally down to nothing but her bra, panties, and shoes, Megan led the way to the bed. “I think I’m ready for a backrub now.”

  With more energy than technique, Steve went to work on her naked backside. He had drawn a gasp from her when, instead of warming the oil in his hands first, he poured it directly onto her back. Her bra was removed next, strictly for safety reasons, he assured her, not wanting to risk getting oil on the delicate lace. The rosemary and lavender undertones came out gradually as he worked it in to Megan’s skin, his hands sliding wonderfully across her back and shoulders. The bed shifted and squeaked as he moved from side to side, using his thumbs and fingers in short, circular sweeps.

  Straddling her backwards, Steve went to work next on butt and legs. Megan was feeling wonderfully relaxed as he continued to rub the aromatic stuff into the long muscles of her thighs, so it took her a few moments to realize he had stopped rubbing. Stretching out on top of her, warm, oil-slick fingers slid the T-strap of her thong aside and a warm tongue began to explore her pussy. Her senses lulled by the drugging effect of the oil and hands stimulating her skin, her face mashed into the coverlet, there was nothing she could do. Nothing she wanted to do. She could only lie there and take it.

  As that skillful, wicked mouth went to work on her, Megan wanted to grind her hips, but the weight of his body above her gave her no leverage. She was helpless. Steve used his lips and tongue to woo her, with little bites and licks, until she was arching and shifting and chasing an orgasm that remained stubbornly just out of reach.

  Fingers entered her soaked channel, pressing on her clit it seemed from the inside out.

  Then suddenly the fingers were gone and the weight was lifting off her back. Strong arms lifted her limp body and tucked a pillow under her hips.

  “I know what mistress needs now.” A low masculine voice rumbled in her ear.

  “Mmfph?” She would never get anywhere with a protest that wimpy. Not that she was altogether sure she wanted to.

  “Mistress needs a good, hard fucking from her slave.” A hot, hard cock slid into her and proceeded to do just that.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, yeah.

  Just like coming home. Only home had never felt like a hot, tight fist squeezing his cock before. It could, though. Steve thought he could get used to it in a hurry.

  It seemed like forever since he’d been here, instead of just days. God, he wanted it to be good for her. Steve wanted it to last forever, but he was afraid he wouldn’t last five minutes.

  Arched over her, hands holding hers to the mattress, Steve realized how small she was. Without her gaze on him, the power of her personality wasn’t as obvious and he could appreciate the lightness of her frame. How much shorter her legs were than his. Because when she turned those magical dark eyes on him he couldn’t see anything else. The world narrowed until it was just her and him.

  Steve wanted to go slow, but it felt too damned good. The vise-tight grip of her pussy. The visual, still burned into his brain, of her ass in the air ready to take him.

  He pulled out as slowly as he could force himself to go, the firm grip of her sheath giving up its hold reluctantly. When he was nearly free, only the tip of him remaining inside her, Steve reversed direction and began to slide back in one agonizingly slow inch at a time.

  “Am I going too fast for Mistress?” It gave him a charge to call her
that. He wasn’t sure why. But it made him feel strong. Powerful. At her service.

  The oil he had so lovingly worked into the skin of her back made the sensation of slipping across her a completely new sensory experience. His nipples, sensitized by the metal that pierced them, were electrified by the merest graze across her slick skin.

  “Mmm. No. Just right.” Her voice was a barely recognizable mumble. Like she was dazed with pleasure. He slowed down. In and even more slowly back out.

  “Like that, you mean?”

  “No!” A shake of the head for emphasis. “Faster. Like before.”

  Good thing she couldn’t see his face. He was probably grinning like a fool. But he’d never been more aroused. Or more in tune with a partner. He knew what she needed. And he had never felt more uniquely equipped to be the one to give it to her.

  He grabbed another pillow and added it to the one already supporting her upper body. Fat and with plenty of loft, they raised Megan’s body into near perfect alignment.

  His cock now able to slide even deeper, Steve took one of Megan’s hands and brought it back to her plump little clit—let her fingers show him the rhythm and direction she needed. As he let the momentum of his thrusts push her forward into their joined hands, Megan began making urgent, frustrated noises as she rocked her hips along with him. God, but it turned his crank in a big way to know he could do that to her. When her rhythm began to pick up speed he used his superior strength to pull her hand away and back down to the mattress.

  “Dammit! Let go.”

  Her tone was lethal. If he knew women—and he was beginning to think he did this particular one—Steve recognized the sound of thwarted lust when it spoke. It took everything he had not to obey the authority in her voice.

  The regret wasn’t totally faked when he had to deny her. “I’m sorry, Mistress, but I can’t. You’re not ready yet.”

  Her language took a turn toward the gutter, but Steve didn’t relent. He just continued working himself in and out of her tight, creamy pussy. The only problem was it felt too freaking good. He’d have to start thinking of roundball. The critical three-pointer Bibby missed in the ‘02 conference finals. They’d need a good outside shooter this year if they wanted—