BDSM Mega Boxed Set

by Anita Lawless, C. J. Sneere, Roxxy Meyer

  “No one can suck a cock quite like you can, Bekka,” Corey slurred through a thick fog of desire.

  She continued to pleasure him with her lips and tongue for a few more minutes. When she sensed he was nearing climax, she removed her lips.

  “Oh no, honey. I want a ride before you let that thing go.” She bit her full bottom lip as she straddled him.

  “Climb aboard, darling.” He smiled a wicked smile as she teased him further, running the head of his penis up and down her wet, hot slit, swirling it over her engorged clit, before she slipped him inside and started to grind against him.

  As she neared climax, riding him faster and faster, he flipped her around suddenly, and Bekka found herself lying on her back, legs pinned atop Corey’s shoulders as he thrust slowly within her, tormenting her with shallow strokes.

  “You know.” He grinned down at her, water dripping on to her from his mane of slick, wet hair. “I’ve been thinking about it,” He grunted as he controlled his hips to keep his plunging soft and teasing. “You always got to be on top. I’m taking over now.”

  “I was just about to—” Words failed her as Corey positioned himself differently,, giving himself a bit more room to get at her clitoris with his hands and to thrust deeper. Just as he plunged the full length of his penis into her, his fingers slipped across her flat stomach, moving down into the dark nest beneath her pelvis, and he found that sweet spot that would take her over.

  “You…were…saying…hon?”

  Bekka closed her eyes to keep them from rolling back. Damn, but this man knew how to work her body. As his thrusts grew faster, so did his strokes at her throbbing, tiny mound of flesh. He wet his fingers with her juices and continued to stroke. Bekka bucked her hips upward and felt herself go over the edge.

  Corey thrust into her hard for a few more minutes, just relishing the feel of her tightness around his girth, and then he too let go. It was a feeling of pure bliss, and he let out a sharp, loud gasp as he came hard.

  They lay in each other’s arms in the hall for a few minutes before Corey dared venture any words. Bekka could tell he was completely sober now. The slur of too much booze was gone from his soft voice.

  “Bekka…I”

  “Shhh.” She looked up, smiling, and put a finger to his lips. “Damn you, Corey Varkov, you always ruin things with that chatterbox of yours. Now, get into the bedroom. It’s raining like crazy out there, and I’ve decided you’re spending the night.”

  ***

  Chapter 5

  Off and on through the night, while the rain pattered down on the roof in torrents, they made love. With the first grey streaks of dawn, Bekka slid open her toy drawer, showing Corey that she did, indeed, still have one. His face broke into a lecherous grin and he selected a large, black cloth satchel from within her chest of delightful trinkets. God, how he loved open-minded women like his Bekka.

  Sliding the realistic dildo from within the cloth bag, he straddle her on the queen sized bed and stroked the head of the rubber, flesh-like penis over her very swollen sex. “Maybe.” He touched the sex toy to her lips, wetting her mouth with the slickness of her juices. Bekka’s tongue snaked out and she licked the head of the toy. Corey shuddered and then continued, “I should tie you up for this next session, hmmm? I like it when you are defenseless, and I can tease and torment your body however I want.”

  Grabbing the handle on the nightstand before he could say another word, Bekka wrenched open the small drawer and brought out two long, dark silk scarves. “Go for it, darling.” She flashed him a saucy grin as he took the filmy material from her hand.

  “You trust me enough?” He grinned sideways and stood, walking toward the dark oak headboard to tie her hands to the posts.

  Bekka laughed. “I trust you, baby. I trust you implicitly.”

  Corey cinched the scarves tight around her wrists and then dragged a callused finger down her left arm, to where her full breasts pooled in round, delicious mounds against her chest. His fingers circled her large nipples then pinched and teased. Wrapping his hands around the supple flesh, he squeezed her breasts hard and she groaned, arching up to meet his urgent touch. Corey’s mouth joined his hands and he sucked and bit her nipples until her slit was soaking and Bekka mumbled urgent, breathy commands beneath him.

  “Damn,” she murmured. “Maybe letting you tie me up wasn’t such a good idea.” She thrust upward with her hips as he rubbed the dildo in between her labia, wetting it with her juices before he swirled the slick head over her clit. “You have all the control, and you’re driving me mad.

  “Am I, hon?” Corey’s voice sounded throaty and deep with pent up lust. “Good. That’s the name of this game, isn’t it?”

  Bekka hissed air through her teeth as the synthetic penis entered her and Corey tilted it just right, finding her g-spot in a few moments. While the thrusting built a sublime friction in her groin, his free hand trailed to her ass, where he squeezed the cheek hard before drawing back to give her a firm slap on the butt.

  Gasping, she bit her lip at the sudden shock, and the flood of sensation it sent through her brain. An orgasm shuddered on the pinnacle of release within her. Bekka held it back, letting the pleasure mount before she’d give in to the need for yet another climax.

  “I can tell by the sparkle in your eyes that you loved that, darling.” Corey’s voice came in a low, lusty growl, and Bekka nearly came from the combination of intense pleasure and his sexy timbre. “Want another, do you?”

  Before she could answer, he drew back again and slapped her hard on the ass. Bekka cried out this time and gripped the bed sheets as she arched her back. His thrusts with her toy grew faster and more satisfying. His manipulation of her sex took her closer to the edge. With a shudder that rocked her body, Bekka came for the countless time in the last six hours of their on-again-off-again sexual feast.

  Corey placed the vibrator on the nightstand when her hips stopped their frantic bucking and she was fully satiated. He slid up her body and kissed her, long, deep, and hard. Bekka moaned against his lips, not sure she could take much more of his exquisite assault of pleasure.

  ***

  Chapter 6

  The sun peeked through the thick curtains, and this time Bekka could no longer ignore the morning light. She slipped from atop Corey’s heavy, muscled-and-tattooed arm and pattered out to the hall.

  Picking her robe from the floor, she cinched it about her waist and grimaced when she stepped in the forgotten, cold pool from Corey’s wet clothes and hair. Grinning, Bekka shook her head and let go a deep sigh of satisfaction. She felt spent and a bit sore this morning, but it was well worth it. With Corey, there was never a bad sexual encounter. He had enough lust and passion for two men, and the charisma to talk just about any woman out of her pants.

  Still, he never used his charm for ill means. In fact, until Bekka had met him, Corey had never been aware he’d possessed any real attractive “aura,” as Bekka had told him he exuded. He’d been bashful almost when she’d said that his dazzling smile could get any unsuspecting lady to take him home. Corey, she knew, was no stranger to a women’s body before her, but he’d never chalked his prior dalliances up to being good-looking. He’d just thought those women who’d bedded him had been horny and he’d been available. Even though he’d been a notorious player in Rexton, he’d still struggled with low self esteem.

  “Why do you think that way about yourself?” she had chided him, many times.

  Corey had shrugged, averting his piercing sapphire eyes. “I don’t know. I guess, despite this rough exterior, I’ve got a sensitive streak. I matured quickly…had a man’s body by the time I was sixteen. Guess that’s why some of the girls in my high school nicknamed me Bear. ’Cause I was big and intimidating.” He ran a hand down over his dark, trimmed beard. “But I was sensitive and shy too—not very confident with the girls back then. Hell.” He laughed. “I use to stutter when I talked to females.”

  Watching Corey sleep now as she walked
back into the bedroom, she remembered all the good things about being with him, and pushed away the reasons why she’d left him.

  Had it really been all his fault, anyway? No, it hadn’t. In Corey’s defense, when he and Bekka were living with Juanita, while they found their feet after his accident, Corey had tried his hardest to be fair to both the women in his life. Bekka hadn’t been blameless, and she’d admit that. If she had spoken up more, if she’d just told Corey more of her feelings when he’d begged her to open up, perhaps the need to leave never would have festered?

  She was a different person now, Bekka reasoned. And she knew that, this time around, she would not shrink into herself and hide her sadness. This time, if she and Corey tried again, she’d be honest with him about her concerns—her unhappiness.

  I just want you to be straight with me. The words—Corey’s plea—from two years back, still haunted her mind. Why can’t we work this out, Bekka? Is it because of Juanita? Let me come with you. We can work this out…

  The memory of his tears—of his large form blocking the bedroom doorway, trying to make her stay with him and talk—brought fresh tears to her own eyes. Bekka sat on the bed beside Corey’s sleeping form and ran her fingers through his rich, dark hair.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispered, and bent to kiss his bearded chin. “It will be different this time, I promise. I’ll talk, and no one will split us up. Not my silence, and not Juanita either.”

  ***

  Normally, Bekka wasn’t a breakfast person, and neither was Corey. But by the time they crawled out of bed, both were ravenous. They would both be late opening their shops today, thanks to their all night sex session.

  Corey was an excellent cook, from his summers spent helping his father in the family restaurant, before his parents divorced when he was seventeen. After the split, Corey had stayed with his dad in Ontario. Bekka hadn’t had a chance to meet Paul Varkov before he’d passed away from lung cancer.

  Corey whistled to the tunes he had playing on her stereo. He’d picked her favorite Scorpions CD, and Bekka smiled as Rock You Like a Hurricane pumped through the speakers. He turned as she entered the kitchen, smiling as he scrambled a large bowl of eggs in his old robe.

  “Good morning, darling.” He leaned forward to plant a kiss on her lips as she stepped up on tiptoe in front of him. “Tired? Hungry?”

  She returned his devastatingly handsome smile. “Yes and yes. I might leave the shop closed today and sleep all afternoon.”

  He laughed as he poured the eggs into a frying pan and buttered some toast that had just popped. “Wish I could do the same.” He mock scowled at her as he set the toast on the table, along with a plate of bacon. “I’ve got some customers scheduled for this afternoon, so I can grab an hour or two of sleep before I have to open, though. Damn.” Corey turned suddenly, egg flipper raised in his hand. “You didn’t happen to put my clothes in the dryer last night, did you?”

  Bekka bit her bottom lip and looked at him sheepishly as she poured herself a coffee. “I don’t have a dryer in the apartment, babe. I go next door, to the small laundromat there.” She pointed out the window, across the short alley, to a sign that read Suds N Duds.

  “Shit.” Corey slapped a hand against his forehead. “I hope Jamie came home last night from his partying with the boys. I need him to bring some clothes on over if I want to get back to my place without getting arrested for indecency.” He opened his robe just enough for her to see his naked, taut form through the slit.

  Bekka slid her hand inside the parting in the cloth and wrapped her grip around his cock. She felt the shaft twitch in her hand and she grinned. “I can get dressed and run over. Did you have your keys on you last night?”

  Corey handed her the egg flipper and walked over to where his damp jeans sat in a pile on the edge of the kitchen floor. While Bekka checked the eggs, he rifled through the pockets, letting out a triumphant “Ahah!” when he found his apartment keys and held them up for her to see.

  She took them from his long, outstretched fingers. “I’ll go slip into some jeans and a shirt and pop on over.” Bekka untied the sash of her robe and she let the silky material fall to the carpet in the hall as she walked to the bedroom in search of clothes.

  Corey emitted a low growl at her nakedness and the way she purposefully swished her ass to tease him. Bekka heard him coming behind her as she crossed the threshold of her master suite. Before she could pull out something to wear, he pinned her to the bed and tasted her freshly showered skin, trailing lower to her pussy. He ate her greedily, teasing her inside with urgent strokes against her g-spot from probing fingers, twirling his skilled tongue over her throbbing clit in delicious patterns until she came yet again.

  ***

  Chapter 7

  Just as Bekka gathered up a pair of jeans and a tank top from Corey’s closet, his smartphone rang. He had forgotten it on the coffee table when he showed up at her place last night, and now it vibrated across the shiny wooden surface. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Well, I’ll leave it. It isn’t mine, after all. The thought caused a slight pain in her gut—a twitch of loneliness.

  As Bekka made her way toward his bedroom to grab some clothes, the phone chimed and vibrated again. She couldn’t help herself this time, and she flipped it over to take a peek. A text message waited from someone named Gwen. That surge of gut-sickening jealous returned, and she gave into the impulse to read the message.

  Gwen: Hey, Corey. Got your number from Juanita. Had a great time on our date. Was wondering if you’d like to get together again? Miss you.

  There was a phone number also.

  Now the jealousy and hurt burned in Bekka’s gut and throat like bitter acid. Angrily, she punched a button and erased the message. Then she slammed the phone down where she’d found it.

  She made her way into the bedroom and yanked clothes off hangers and out of drawers, gathering Corey a fresh outfit. Then she stomped back into the living room.

  Bekka sat beside the scattered clothes on the couch and rested her chin in her hands, propping her elbows on her knees. Once again, Juanita seemed to rear her meddlesome head.

  It wasn’t that Corey’s step-mother wasn’t a good woman with a kind heart, but she had a problem with acting rashly, inconsiderately. Her mouth ran off before she thought sometimes. Bekka got along with Juanita, for the most part, but it was her clingy, meddlesome tendency, and enduring those characteristics while sharing a home with the woman, that had driven Bekka and Corey apart.

  Now, Juanita knew that Corey had come to the city with more than just the goal of expanding his tattoo business. He had sent her, after all, to Moncton to Bekka’s book shop to spy on her. Yet his step-mom was once again meddling by giving Corey’s phone number to some old fling—or, perhaps a new fling.

  Why would she do such a thing? Bekka chewed on her lip as she rose from the couch and gathered Corey’s clothes in her arms. Walking to the kitchen, she found a plastic bag in a dispenser next to the fridge and slipped the garments in.

  Bekka had always wondered if Juanita really liked her or not. She had initially been the one to introduce Bekka and Corey, when Bekka was working in a coffee shop-cum-souvenir-store in Ontario. Back then, Juanita and Bekka had been great friends, despite their over twenty-year age difference.

  But as soon as Bekka became Corey’s girlfriend, things changed between her and Juanita. While they were still good friends, Juanita became less trustworthy of Bekka. Where she had once praised Bekka for her feisty, individual spirit and independent mind, Juanita suddenly became suspicious of Bekka’s strength as a woman.

  Comments were uttered about Bekka’s lack of a “domestic streak,” and her “unique nature,” that Corey still didn’t know Bekka had overheard, while he and Juanita were having coffee one morning, just after Corey and Bekka had moved in with her.

  “Are you sure she is what you want, kiddo?”

  The question, filled with doubt and uttered by Juanita, still caused a shar
p pang in Bekka’s heart. She re-experienced that feeling of betrayal all over again.

  “Of course, Mom.” Corey had put his coffee cup down too hard and he cursed when coffee sloshed over the sides. “You know that I’ve always been pretty damned unique, as you put it, too. I love Bekka, and we connect like no one I have ever been with. She’s everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “I just hope you don’t regret it down the road.”

  Juanita’s suspicions toward Bekka had been like a cruel slap in the face. When the two women had met through Bekka’s uncle, Juanita had been so kind to her. Despite their age differences, and life differences, the two had gotten along very well, and Juanita had commented more than once on Bekka maturity and sharp intellect, and how well she’d be suited for her step-son, Corey.

  “He’s into almost everything that you are, Bekka.”

  Bekka still remembered the conversation over her afternoon break in the shop, when Juanita had come in to have coffee with her Uncle Gary. Juanita, only widowed two years at the time, had been casually seeing Bekka’s uncle at the time.

  “Heavy music, horror, tattoos…in fact, he’s thinking about taking up a tattoo apprenticeship since the accident.” Bekka remembered the sadness in the older woman’s eyes.

  She’d been hesitant to meet Corey at first. Bekka hated set ups, and she was no relationship guru. She’d grown up an awkward tomboy, raised by her father in Pincher Creek, Alberta, surrounded by rough-and-tumble farm boy cousins. She was one of six girls in her extended family of uncles, aunts, and cousins.

  At five-foot-six and just over one hundred-twenty pounds, Bekka was a firm yet woman. Her body was used to hard work after years of helping her dad on her uncle’s farm. She was used to physical labor, and she craved that outlet to this day, either through a workout in the room she’d set aside as a small gym in the apartment, or a walk through the city on a warm spring day.