Typist #2 - Spanking the Billionaire Novelist

by Mimi Strong

  Smith stared at me, his mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock.

  “I know of the movie,” I said. “It's just … kinda old.”

  Callum grinned at me and said, “His generation thinks eighties movies are the best.”

  Cassie asked Smith, “Did you have a Ghostbusters lunch box?”

  “Ha ha,” Smith said. “Everybody gang up on the old guy. Don't get me started, or I'll regale you all with my tales of 'When I was a kid.'”

  I squeezed his knee. “I'm sure it wasn't that different from today, although the transition to horseless carriages must have been exciting.”

  “Ha ha,” he said again. “When I was a kid ...” He paused, as though waiting for someone to stop him, but we didn't. I couldn't speak for the others, but I was genuinely interested. He continued, “When I was a kid, if you wanted to rent a movie, you also rented a VCR to watch it on. They were so expensive, people didn't buy their own, not for the first few years.”

  Callum said, “That doesn't seem very convenient.”

  “It wasn't, but it made movie night kind of a big deal. You had to plan for it, like an event.” He looked around the dwindling crowd of people in the park. “Not like this, but you get the idea. Now people watch movies on their phones.”

  “And read books on their phones,” Cassie said.

  “That's right.” He smiled. “The only downside to ebooks is I can't see the cover, so I can't tell if someone in a public place is reading one of mine.”

  “Aww,” Cassie said.

  “I know.” He pretended to pout.

  After a moment, I smacked him on the arm. “Smith Wittingham! You made me feel sorry for you, you scammer! You're a mega bestseller, and I'm sure everybody here in this town owns one or more of your books. Don't make that pouty face. You don't deserve to.”

  He laughed and rubbed his hands together like an evil supervillain.

  Cassie said to me, “I'm glad you call him on his nonsense.” To Smith, she said, “This one's a keeper. Don't you dare frighten her away.”

  Callum said, “And don't mess with her head.”

  I held up my hand to stop things before they got embarrassing. “I'm a big girl. I assure you.”

  The speakers crackled and squealed with feedback. Some people on the stage ran around, and then one of the balloon-making clowns introduced the movie.

  Smith kept looking over at me with his devilish eyes undressing me. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, then I got an idea.

  I excused myself to the washroom and wove my way through the crowd of people on blankets. The portable toilets were a harrowing experience—as those awful things always are—but I emerged with my panties tucked in my purse and a smile on my face.

  When I got back to our picnic space, I found that Smith had paid to rent some funny little chairs that were like backrests. Cassie and Callum were seated in their own row, in front of us, and I took a seat next to Smith. He'd also procured some additional blankets, and he draped a shared one across both of our laps.

  He took longer than I expected to snake his hand over between my legs—more than five minutes.

  His fingers paused on the red triangle of hair between my legs, as though they couldn't believe their good fortune to find I had actually removed my panties.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Smith turn to stare at me, but I kept facing forward. The sky around us was dark, and people were focused on the opening sequence of the movie, but enough light reflected from the screen that we weren't in complete darkness, and I didn't want to broadcast to the people around us that a sexy older man had his index finger on my bare-naked clit.

  He mashed against the nub, hot and aching. The sensation felt better than I'd remembered. How could one tiny body part give off so much pleasure?

  His digit moved down, pushing between my labia, finding that wetness springing up. He fingered me, then dragged the moisture up, over and over, lingering just long enough on my nub to set the area on fire, then he'd pull away. He shifted closer to me on his chair. I leaned back against my backrest and parted my legs slightly. His finger plunged inside me, which only made me want more.

  I glanced around. Was there somewhere private we could run off to, so I could feel his manhood inside me, reaching where his finger couldn't? The portable potties were out of the question, but what about the other side of the building the movie was being—

  OH GOD.

  I stopped thinking about going anywhere else. His wet fingers were now attending to my clit, rubbing and circling it like The Clit Squad. I closed my eyes, my breathing quick and shallow, and succumbed to the pleasure. Wave after wave of warmth and urgency radiated through me.

  I opened my eyes to see Callum turned around, staring right at me. I sat up and crossed my legs, pinching Smith's hand to hold it still.

  Smith turned to me and said casually, “Popcorn. We need popcorn.”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice sounding tight and thin. “Or chips? Callum, is the concession still open?”

  Callum seemed suspicious, his eyes darting down to my legs under the blanket. “I'll go get popcorn. You two … carry on. Don't let anything stop you.”

  After Callum left, I extracted Smith's hand from between my legs. As close as I'd been to climax, I was now miles away and feeling ashamed.

  Smith leaned in and said, “He's just missing his girlfriend. Ignore him.” He chuckled.

  “Callum has a girlfriend?”

  “A nice girl from town. She's at summer school, law degree.” He brought his hand to his face and smelled his fingers. “Mm, I can't wait until later.”

  I reached under the blanket to his side and squeezed his hardness through his jeans. “Me neither.”

  “Could you do that again?” His eyes crinkled up at the sides.

  I squeezed the shaft and stroked my hand up and down, over the fabric. “Like that?”

  “Perfect. Now just do it about a hundred more times.”

  I pulled my hand away and leaned in to nibble on his earlobe. “You have great ears,” I said. “They're plump and I want to bite them.”

  “Are you saying my ears are fat?”

  “Yes.”

  He crossed his arms and scowled, the pointy tip of his nose looking longer in that expression.

  I sucked the bottom of his earlobe into my mouth and pulsed it with my tongue.

  He sighed.

  I murmured into his ear, “I like juicy, plump things to suck on.”

  He groaned and wriggled around. “How long is this damn movie? Why isn't it over yet?”

  I nibbled and sucked on his earlobe, then pulled my mouth away to whisper, “We could always leave early.”

  I barely had time to blink before he had me up, on my feet.

  Some people behind us grumbled about us blocking their view.

  I crouched down and let Callie know we were checking out early, mumbling something about stomach problems. She gave me a knowing look as she nodded.

  Smith kept me close in front of him. I thought he was using my body to disguise his erection from the crowd, but he kept me there even as we got out to the road, that firm rod pressing me on, faster.

  We were still a block away from the gas station where we'd parked the quad when he pulled me into the dark passage between two buildings. The space was narrow, and he pressed my back against the brick wall.

  Then he was all over me at once, kissing my lips and neck, his warm hands on my buttocks, under my dress.

  “Climb the wall,” he said.

  I gasped between his ferocious kisses raining down on me, “What?”

  His belt jingled as he unfastened it and the top of his jeans.

  “Press your back into the wall and walk your feet up the other wall.”

  He then hoisted me up, and to my surprise, I braced my feet on either side of him, and I was no longer touching the ground.

  With no panties in the way, he was nearly inside me in seconds. He paused, his tight-fitting jeans
loosened but not slid down, and the hot, full head of his cock pressed against me, more into the side of my leg than my opening.

  “You're a little off-target,” I whispered.

  With one hand still cradling my buttock and helping me stay in position, he reached his other hand under my skirt, to my pussy.

  “There's that ginger minge,” he said, stroking my triangle. “You're so wet for me.” His fingers nudged inside me and dragged slick moisture up to my clit. Using his hand as a guide, he dragged his cock forward and back within my crease, the pleasure searing.

  “I want you,” I murmured.

  “You're so wet for me. So wet.” He kissed me, hard. “So beautiful and so wet. All I have to do is look at you and I'm hard.”

  “I want you.”

  “Say it again.”

  “I want you, Smith.”

  He moaned and pushed partway into me.

  I nearly lost my grip on the wall and collapsed, but he propped me up. I stiffened my legs, bracing myself.

  He pushed in again, but he couldn't get in all the way. His hips were squeezed between my thighs, so he adjusted my legs to be wider.

  Now we were set, and he groaned and sunk himself into me. I cried out in pleasure, and he quieted my cries with his soft, wet lips on my mouth.

  We kissed, tongues tangling, me making soft, mewling sounds, and he found his rhythm, his cock getting stiffer with every stroke.

  I came suddenly, my cries turning to a low, animal groan.

  “My sweet Tori,” he said. “Tori.”

  He paused, and then he drove into me, pumping me up the wall on my back, my hair catching behind me and pulling my head back, exposing my neck. He kissed and licked and sucked my neck hungrily as he came, his liquid hot inside me.

  He grunted, and clenched me to him, his cock shaking.

  I opened my eyes to find him looking right at me, his expression one of surprise, or perhaps curiosity.

  We stared at each other for a quiet moment. We were in a public place, a darkened alleyway just steps from the sidewalk. I could hear the sounds of the movie playing in the park, and all those people not far away.

  He moaned and kissed my forehead. “That was so good.”

  Slowly, he withdrew from me, and I felt the fluid run straight out of me, to the ground. He didn't seem to notice, and slowly helped me down from the wall.

  “My legs are shaking,” I said.

  “I'll take the credit for that,” he said. “Let's pretend it had nothing to do with your gymnastics.”

  Once on steady ground, I opened my purse and pulled out some tissues and my panties, then tidied up and put them on. He had his jeans back up, and drew me in against him. I thought it was for another kiss, but he just hugged me.

  Some people walked by on the sidewalk, unaware of the two of us in the narrow space, mere feet away.

  “You're amazing, Tori,” he said, still hugging me.

  “You're not so bad yourself.” I squeezed his buttocks.

  He whispered, “I really like you.”

  I felt his words ripple through me, as pleasurable as his touch on my body. “I like you too.”

  He pulled away from me, grabbed my hand, and charged back out to the sidewalk.

  He said, “Now, where did I park that bike of mine?”

  4: SLEEPING UPSTAIRS

  Smith drove the vehicle back, the small headlight barely lighting our way. I wrapped my arms around him, enjoying the sensation of hugging him as we rode over the bumpy trail.

  Just before we arrived at the cabin, he slammed on the brakes. A family of skunks strolled across the trail in front of us, confident and cocky as hell.

  Smith whispered back to me, over his shoulder, “I dare you to go pick up one of those babies.”

  I pinched him on the stomach and whispered, “You first.” The skunks dawdled along, in no hurry. “They walk like they're wearing poopy diapers,” I said.

  He chuckled, his voice low.

  After they'd disappeared into the forest, we drove the rest of the way without incident.

  Back at the cabin, Smith turned on the big TV and plugged a hard drive into the media center computer attached to the big screen.

  A minute later, Ghostbusters was playing on the screen.

  “Couldn't let you get away without seeing it,” he said, smiling.

  “Do you want popcorn?” I stepped toward the kitchen.

  “I want you, Tori. Come and sit with me.” He took a seat on one of the generous-sized sofas and patted the spot next to him.

  I got us some bottled sparkling water and joined him on the sofa. He put his arm around me and I rested my cheek on his shoulder, utterly content. There was a part of me that ran through the same worrying thoughts, over and over, like a hamster on a wheel, but when Smith held me or touched me, those thoughts went quiet.

  I didn't have to worry about the future, because the only time that mattered was now, and we were together now, and that was beautiful enough.

  We watched the movie, but Smith claimed to be “too sleepy” to watch the sequel.

  I rolled my eyes. “Too sleepy. I'm so sure. Is that why your hand keeps slipping in between my thighs?”

  His eyelids low and sexy, he said, “Come sleep in my bed tonight.”

  “Sleep?”

  He kissed my hand. “Be with me, and then sleep with me. The whole deal.”

  “Fine. I'll come up, and we'll see what happens. I reserve the right to go to my own bed and get some sleep, though, without some hot, older man trying to see how wet he can get me.”

  “Older?” His gold-brown eyes twinkled. “First my earlobes are chubby, and now I'm an older man?”

  He got up from the sofa and pulled me to stand before him. I reached up and squeezed his earlobe. “These earlobes are perfect. And so are you. But you are just a tiny bit older than me.”

  He winced. “I'm only forty-one.”

  “Really?”

  “What? You thought I was older?” He hung his head.

  “No, I thought you were in your thirties.”

  His eyes brightened as his head snapped up. “I have hurt feelings about the earlobes comment.”

  “You don't seem that hurt, what with your big grin and all.”

  “I'm devastated,” he said, still grinning. “But I think I can settle the score.”

  “Oh, really.”

  “Go get your hair brush,” he said.

  My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. Spanking? From the look on his face, I was to be the spanked one this time.

  My mouth opened, but then closed without a peep. My nerves tingled, excitement and fear running through me. The skin over my whole body tightened, and I became aware of the hardness in my nipples and the heat in my pussy.

  I ran to my room and quickly freshened myself up with a washcloth in my bathroom. The sensation of the nubby cloth on my erogenous areas felt so good. I gave my teeth a quick brushing, grabbed the wood hairbrush, and left my room. I kept on the blue dress, but left my panties behind. All the better for spanking.

  When I got to Smith's bedroom, the lights were very dim, with a shirt of his draped over the only table lamp that was lit. He was absolutely motionless, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had his shirt and socks off, but his jeans still on, and he looked like the poster boy for masculine sexiness.

  “Young lady!” he said, his voice so loud and authoritative, it startled me.

  “Yes?” I alternated between crossing my legs and arms, as awkward as a schoolgirl.

  His voice stern, he said, “I understand you've been a naughty girl.”

  “Maybe.” Even though I knew he was playing around, my fear was still real.

  “You let a boy feel you up in public today.”

  I gulped. “Yes,” I said meekly, feeling the shame rise up like a tide.

  “You let him finger you in a crowded park. And then, you did something even more wicked.”

  “Yes.” I dropped down to my hands and knees a
nd began to crawl toward him.

  His voice booming, he said, “Tell me what wicked thing you did.”

  I crawled to his feet and stopped there, resting my cheek on his knee.

  “I went into the alley with a boy.”

  He stroked my hair. “Did the boy force himself upon you?”

  “Yes.”

  He grabbed a lank of my hair and tugged it. “Now, now, Tori.”

  “He didn't force me. I wanted it.”

  He let go of my hair and stroked my head again, as he leaned forward and took the brush from my hand.

  “Stand up and lift your skirt,” he said. “Tell me what it felt like when he spread your legs in the alley.”

  I got to my feet, feeling shaky on my legs once more. Trembling, I lifted my skirt to my waist, showing him my bare bottom.

  Something touched my flesh—his mouth. He kissed the upper part of my buttock and gently bit it.

  “Oh,” I moaned.

  His mouth was replaced by the hard brush, slapping against my skin.

  My breath caught in my throat, tears rushing to my eyes, but not spilling over.

  “Your skirt!” he ordered. “Don't drop it again!”

  My hands had flown up, and were crossed over my throat. Hands shaking, I reached down and pulled up my skirt again.

  “There's my girl.” His mouth pressed down on my flesh again, the pleasure so sweet and welcome. “How did he make you feel? When he pushed his way inside you?”

  “Good.”

  The brush smacked against my ass, but this time I moaned, because it felt as good as his kiss. Smith touching me was all I wanted, no matter how gentle or firm, whether it stung or not.

  I caught my breath and said, “He made me feel good.”

  He smacked me again, the slap reverberating through the dark room. “You can do better.”

  “He set my pussy on fire. I wanted him to fill me up, but I can never get enough of him.”

  “Are you wet right now?”

  “Why don't you touch me and find out?”

  “I have a better idea. Don't turn around. Stay like that.”

  I heard rustling behind me.

  His voice low and softer now, Smith said, “How many more spankings do you want?”

  “Five,” I said, the number coming out before I'd given it any thought.