by BJ Wane
Denial had been a constant since meeting Jacob and tonight seemed to be no exception. “How is spanking me going…” A sharp slap on her buttock interrupted her, followed by Jacob’s palm soothing the slight sting. Struggling to regain her senses, she continued, “to convince me that you won’t…” Another slap, this one a little harder made her gasp and shift uncomfortably on his hard thighs. Clenching her hands tightly on his thick calf muscle, she managed to finish with a croak, “hurt me….oh.” The third slap had her pussy heating as much as her ass, but the slight sting quickly abated, too quickly. Her pussy was hotter, wetter than she could ever remember, and unbelievably, she found herself anticipating the next swat, yearning for it as much as she was craving an orgasm. The hard jut of Jacob’s cock poking her stomach only added to her arousal as she unconsciously lifted her ass in silent entreaty.
The uplifting shift of her ass was the sign Jacob had been waiting for. His next downward swing was harder, the ensuing redness lingering as he caressed the bright mark then lightly ran his finger down her crack until he reached the soft, baby bare flesh of her damp labia. Her low moan encouraged him as he delved past those puffy lips just enough to lightly stroke over her engorged clit. Her soft cry made him smile even as he struggled to rein in his own lust, his cock so fucking painfully hard it was taking every ounce of his control not to give in to the demands of his long denied body.
Admit it, Grace. You like this pain. He knew the telepathic communication would add to the eroticism and he wasn’t above using every method at his disposal to lower her resistance.
Hearing his voice in her head again added to the heated rush of fire consuming her as did the harder slaps he was peppering her ass with, followed by tantalizing, too brief forays into her pussy, the teasing touches over her clit just enough to lure her to the edge of climax before disappearing, rudely jerking her back before she could topple over, keeping that precipice just out of reach. She didn’t want to answer him, didn’t want to admit he was right, didn’t want to acknowledge how needy she had become in such a short time. Her buttocks felt hot and swollen, sensations that her pussy reciprocated. Even though her ass was beginning to throb with the discomfort of his slaps, she wasn’t ready for him to stop, ached for him to return to her pussy and ease her pain by touching her clit again and again. When he made no move to do so, limiting his caresses now to her sore cheeks, she gave in.
Yes, I like it. There, are you happy. Now touch me, Jacob, before I lose my mind. If she hadn’t already, she silently moaned.
Touch you where, Grace? Here? He gave her buttock a much lighter tap, just enough to renew the pain from his previous, harder strokes.
Grace groaned in both frustration and need. That small tap stroked the burning embers of her lust and drove her closer to the brink of insanity. She had never asked a man to touch her, especially anywhere specific, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Please, Jacob, I need to come.
That soft plea had him so close to losing his own control, Jacob knew if he didn’t end this soon, he might not be able to hold back. She had a gorgeous ass, round and soft, her skin like warm velvet under his hand. Slipping one hand between her thighs, he entered her with three fingers as he softly kneaded her buttocks with his other hand. With one hand filled with her malleable buttocks and his fingers on his other hand getting gripped by the slick, heated walls of her vagina, he could no more prevent the lowering of his incisors than he could the lust burning out of control throughout his entire body. He knew he was too close to losing control to risk facing another rejection from her, which angered him as much as disappointed him. He had been as patient as possible, waited as long as he could, maybe too long. He couldn’t risk getting to the point of no return, of being so far gone he would take what he wanted and needed regardless of her willingness. It was time to end this, for both of their sakes.
With experienced precision, he went for her clit, grasping the small, tight bud between two fingers, milking it until she was writhing and screaming in climax.
Brilliant pinpoints of lights clashed and exploded behind her closed eyelids as Grace began to orgasm, the body and mind consuming pleasure so intense she didn’t know if she would survive it. She was still reeling from the powerful sensations, her body still spasming with small tremors of pleasure when she was abruptly stood up and released. She swayed for a moment, disoriented and confused as she looked up into the cold fury on Jacob’s face.
Taking a step back, she started to reach out to him, surprised that she wasn’t afraid so much as shocked at his abrupt change. “Jacob…”
Jacob nearly came unglued when she retreated yet again, lifting her hand to ward him off as if that would stop him. Anger, disappointment and desperation had him lashing out. “Save it Grace, I’ve heard it before. I’m sorry about tonight. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“You have to know something else,” Luc snarled as he held the scared drug dealer up against the brick building, his dangling feet kicking ineffectively at his shins. “Did you hear where they were headed?”
“I swear, man. I was so freaked out I just took off. All I heard was they were going after some fresh meat. That’s all, I swear.”
“Fucking piss ant,” Jon muttered, tightening his grip on the kid’s neck. No more than fifteen, he and Luc had come across the dealer trying to pawn drugs off on the kid. After hearing the dealer’s intended buyer had been attacked by two freaked out bad asses who thought they were vampires, the brothers had moved in on the deal to get more information. Jon hadn’t realized how young the buyer was until he snagged him before he could escape down the alley.
Luc turned his head and looked at Jon. “What do you think? Is he telling us the truth?”
“Be dumb not to,” Jon returned, lifting his lip enough to show both of them his fangs.
“Yeah, then again, he’s already proven he’s not too smart, dealing in this shit, and all.” Luc kicked the package of white powder that had dropped from the dealer’s hand. Showing his own incisors, he threatened softly, “If we find out you’re lying, or if we ever see you peddling drugs again, you’ll be our next meal. Got it?”
The dealer struggled in earnest, his eyes bulging in fear as he replayed the last time he had seen his mark, a young repeat customer who was pinned on the ground, two scary looking dudes sucking at his neck. “Lemme go, lemme go,” he squealed in terror, his bowels turning to water as he was slowly lowered to his feet.
“Run.” Luc chuckled as he took off and never looked back, not caring any more about what happened to this buyer than he had the last. “I think it’s safe to say he was telling us everything.”
“You always did have a sadistic streak, brother.” Jon turned his attention to the kid who remained mute with fear and a sense of fatalism. “What’re you doing in the Quarter, at night, on a school night? Where are your parents?”
The kid looked at his captor in surprise, before he felt the first wave of resentment overriding his fear. “Why would you care? Either kill me or let me go.”
“Cocky little bastard, aren’t you?” Luc felt for the boy. He and Jon had come across hundreds like him over the decades, and he knew there will be hundreds more in the future. They couldn’t save them all, but they could try to save this one. “I guess we’ll let the police decide how you spend the rest of the night.”
“No, wait. My dad hasn’t been around in years and mom works in a strip joint at night. Just let me go home, please. The cops’ll just toss me in juvie for the night and my mom will promise to do better when she picks me up.” He was no longer afraid these two were going to hurt him. He figured the teeth were fake props meant to scare, which they certainly had, and now he saw concern on their faces instead of anger. He could work with that easily.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Jon told him, the calculating glint in the kid’s eyes not going unnoticed. “We’re going to put you in a cab and give the driver instructions to take you to a group home for boys ru
n by a friend of ours. Later tonight, we’re going to check and make sure you’re there. If not, we come looking for you, and won’t stop until we find you. Got it?”
“That’s it? I just have to spend the night at this do-gooders place?” he asked in disbelief.
“That’s it,” Luc said knowing if Father Brennan couldn’t help this kid, no one could.
“Done,” he agreed, surprised at how easily he was getting off.
Jon sighed. “Come on, kid, let’s get you out of here.”
They waited until the taxi took off before they set out for the upper end of Bourbon Street toward Canal Street where most of the French Quarter’s strip clubs and bars were. They had spent the better part of the night following rumors about a drugged out duo who were working their way up the alleys of the street in the heart of the French Quarter that was primarily known for its bars and strip clubs, a thirteen block smorgasbord for a pair of rogues as Bourbon came alive after dark every day of the week, and kept going until the wee hours of the morning. Live music accompanied the sounds of laughter and partying as they passed restaurants, clubs and bars all brightly lit up and filled with tourists as well as residents, a lot of them hangers on from Mardi Gras.
Luc grinned, pumped from finally having a direction to look as he took in the provocative displays in the windows of some very popular strip joints. “We need to hurry up and smoke these guys. I’m in need of some play time.”
“Right now we need to rid our city of these guys before they can do anymore harm. At least the vampire rumors are easily dismissed. Just one of the benefits of calling the voodoo capital home.”
“Who would’ve thought we’d go from protecting our ranch from Carpetbaggers to protecting drunks, hookers and drug buyers in Sin City? “
“Feeling melancholy, Luc, or so horny you don’t know what you’re saying?” Jon teased him even though he had thought that same thing more than once.
“I’m always horny, so that’s not it. The kid reminded me of us at that age, made me think back to what we were doing when we were fifteen, that’s all. Which place do you want to check out first? I don’t think they’ve left this area yet, not if they’re still on the prowl.”
“Let’s just keep walking. We’ll smell them before we see them.”
Two hours later, both Jon and Luc were seething with frustration. They had been in and out of almost every bar and strip club up and down Bourbon Street to no avail. There was no sign of the two rogues who had spent hours terrorizing those stupid enough, or desperate enough, to find themselves in one of the dirty, dark alleys that separated some of the establishments. On the verge of calling it a night, they both paused outside the door to a bar named the The Down and Dirty.
“What the hell?” Luc swore as his palm started heating up, a tiny pulse making him rub his mark down his jean clad thigh in an effort to stop it.
“You too?” Jon looked at Luc in surprise as he rubbed his hand over his chest, the mark on his palm that had lain dormant his whole life suddenly pulsing with life.
“Son of a bitch. If I’m not mistaken, this means we’re close to our mate.”
“Our mate?” he reiterated with a pleased grin. “You think?”
“I don’t know,” Luc snapped, not at all sure he was ready for a mate even if the possibility of finding one that was compatible to both him and his brother had his cock surging with anticipation. “But if she’s in there,” he nodded toward the door to the Down and Dirty, we better make sure those rogues aren’t anywhere close.”
They both entered the bar wondering what, or who, fate had in store for them.
Chapter Thirteen
“Damn it, this is getting downright irritating,” Caitlin grumbled as she once again reached between her thighs and rubbed the strange crescent shaped red mark that had suddenly appeared a few years ago on the inside of her upper left leg. It had never bothered her before, never itched, didn’t hurt and wasn’t raised, so it didn’t chafe against her jeans. She had it checked by her gynecologist who assured her it was harmless. He said she could have it removed, but it wasn’t the scar that removing it would leave behind that made her reluctant to do so. She had always believed in the motto, if it’s not broken, don’t fix it, and had ignored it until about ten minutes ago when it started to tingle with warmth, right before two men who looked like brothers entered her bar and drew her attention.
As if that wasn’t distracting enough, her physical reaction to them was off the charts. She wasn’t a stranger to lusting after a hot guy, but the way her nipples tightened into painful nubs and her pussy filled with so much moisture her panties were clinging damply to her puffy folds was over the top, especially considering her lack of interest in sex the past few years which irritated the hell out of her. Used to being in control, not only of her life, but of her body, she didn’t care for this out of control, desperate response to not one, but two men she had never seen before.
“Caitlin!” Bobby snapped his fingers in front of his boss’s face, trying to get her attention. “We’re behind on orders. What’re you daydreaming about?”
“Nothing,” she answered peevishly. Narrowing her eyes, she glared at her assistant manager. “Don’t ever snap your fingers at me again, you moron, or you’ll find yourself unemployed.”
“Yeah, right,” he snorted, not in the least worried. Bobby had been working in the Down and Dirty, in one capacity or another, for eight years and had made sure he was indispensable to first Dan Jenkins then to Caitlin, who had inherited the bar from Dan after his sudden death two years ago. “Baby, you need me and you know it. Besides,” he patted her cheek lightly, “you love me.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass. Give me those orders.” Caitlin picked up a few of the drink requests left on the polished oak bar top by the waitresses and began mixing drinks, trying to keep her mind, and her eyes, off the two men who were now strolling around the club, their looks intent, as if they were searching for someone.
“You ever seen those two before, Bobby?” she asked, nodding toward the men whose height and size put them above almost every other patron.
“No,” he sighed wistfully. “But little Bob would sure like to get to know them better.”
“Tell your dick it’s not getting near either one,” she growled, not at all sure she was responding jokingly. Where the hell did this possessive streak come from? First she didn’t like how the women were attempting to keep the men’s attention when they would stop to speak to them, now she was irritated over a meaningless remark from her gay friend. She had always been a love ‘em and leave em’ kind of woman, not interested in developing ties to anyone except her friends here at the bar that had been her home since she was fourteen. She had learned the hard way from being raised in the bayous by neglectful, drug dealing, drug addicted parents that she could count on no one but herself. That was until Dan had caught her trying to pick his pocket. She smiled at the memory. Picking his pocket was the smartest thing she had ever done, even if she didn’t know that at the time.
“Oh, that’s where your head was a few minutes ago. Which one?” Bobby asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
That was just one of the problems, she didn’t know which one kept drawing her attention and was responsible for her body’s reaction. “Damned if I know. But it looks like I’m going to find out.”
“It has to be her,” Jon said for the third time as his cock engorged even more when he and Luc approached the bar. The tall redhead had caught both of their attention as soon as they entered the dimly lit bar, but Luc had insisted on making sure by moving that way via a circular route around the room.
“Looks like considering my dick is in danger of getting a permanent zipper imprint.” The woman his body was insisting was his mate was attractive with a wealth of dark red, wavy hair that framed a pale, pretty face. But she had attitude written all over her, a take charge, independent air that screamed challenge in several different ways, which meant she would not be an easy
conquest. “How do you want to play this?” Normally, they would simply approach a woman they were attracted to, put the moves on her, letting her know up front what they wanted, and move on quickly and painlessly if she wasn’t interested. But they wanted much more from this woman than just one night of hot sex.
“We could toss her over my shoulder and haul her back to the plantation, explain after we get her someplace safer than here.” Jon liked the image that idea provoked. The bar was similar to all the others up and down Bourbon Street with a small dance floor, a corner set up for Karaoke and, from the sounds of it, a separate game room for pool and probably darts. The long bar dominated the back wall, a mirrored backsplash making the space look bigger. For a Monday night, the place packed a good crowd, which meant it was popular for something other than the usual aesthetics.
“From those ‘don’t fuck with me vibes’ she’s putting out, we’d be eating our balls as soon as you set her down,” Luc responded with a grin.
“You’re right. Let’s try our usual, charming approach and wing it from there.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Caitlin couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of them as they approached her. Not only were they tall, several inches over six feet if she were to guess by the way she was having to look up as they neared the bar, but their thighs looked as big as tree trunks, their arms bulging around the short sleeves of their tight tee shirts. They radiated power and a discomfiting magnetism that wreaked havoc on her body that she didn’t understand, and definitely didn’t appreciate.
“Welcome to the Down and Dirty, gentlemen. What can I get you?” she managed to say coolly despite the way her body was humming with arousal. She never went for fair headed men, she bemoaned silently, noting their shaggy, ash blonde cuts that did nothing to soften the hard angles of their chiseled, almost identical faces.