River Walk: Ten Kinky Collaborations

by Anthology

  Her yelp of pain was accompanied by a flood of arousal — she felt it and he saw it.

  “Hmm… Liked that, did you?” He gave her other nipple the same treatment. She tried to arch her back, but her bindings kept her exactly where Glen wanted her. “I got you something.”

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “Kate.” There was that hard edge again. It shut her up and made her pussy pound.

  He opened a side-table drawer and produced a small, black satin bag. Dropping the contents into his palm, he showed her two delicate silver flowers with small clips on the back.

  Her breath caught. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

  “They’ll be more beautiful on you.”

  The heat in his eyes made her shiver with anticipation. “Something tells me I won’t be wearing them in my hair…”

  With an evil grin, he opened one of the flowers with a pinch. “Good guess.” Bracing his hands on the ottoman, he leaned down and teased a lazy trail all over her breasts with his tongue. He must have been trying to drive her insane, the way he licked the damp path closer and closer, narrowly avoiding the needy peaks. Her breath rushed out on a sob when he finally flicked them with his tongue.

  He had hardly touched her yet, and already Kate’s clit was pulsing with need.

  As her nipples responded to the blessed attention, Glen tugged each of them gently with his teeth and pressed them between his lips until they were exceptionally stiff and sensitive. With her eyes shut tight, she felt it acutely when the first pretty clamp bit down on her nipple. The second clamp came before she had caught her breath from the first.

  She panted through the pain, but it was almost too much.

  The wet heat of Glen’s tongue surprised her. She hadn’t realized the pretty flowers would leave the very tips of her nipples uncovered.

  “The pain should ease up soon,” he said against her skin.

  “I think it’s starting to, ‘cause that feels really good.” Her voice sounded dreamy, like she was drunk on arousal. Drunk on arousal. She wondered if that was something that actually happened, but the thought drifted away before she could articulate it.

  Glen straightened and stared down at her, tongue sliding over his lower lip. “God damn, your tits look fucking spectacular in those. I wish you could see yourself right now.”

  Kate’s skin was so sensitized, every cell responded to his gaze as he circled the ottoman. When he paused between her thighs, her clit twitched as if he had touched it. Another drop of arousal slid down her ass to join the growing puddle beneath her.

  He growled and dropped to his knees, nibbling and sucking her inner thighs, letting only his breath touch her pounding center. Her clit swelled as if it were reaching for his mouth. She would have pushed it there herself, if he had allowed her any mobility. When he backed away from the ottoman and stood up again, she could’ve wept.

  “Oh my god, Glen, what are you doing to me?” she panted.

  “Delayed gratification. It’ll be worth the wait, I promise.” His brow furrowed as he reached for his belt buckle. “And it’s not just you. I’m doing it to the both of us, darlin’.”

  The vivid truth of that statement was evident a moment later, when he unbuttoned his jeans. As he walked back around the ottoman, she could see that his erection strained the confines of navy blue cotton. When he got closer, she noticed a wet spot that spread almost as far as the clearly-outlined crown. Glen carefully tugged his waistband down, then lowered his jeans and boxer briefs together. He might have tried to catch Kate’s eye, but hers were fixed on his gorgeous cock.

  Despite their sexual escapades in the vault, she had seen very little of his body until now. She stared as he stepped out of his clothes, gripped his shaft tightly and stood perfectly still for a few moments. Then he began stroking himself, his hand making a slow journey from root to tip and back again. With each pass of his fist, she felt her pussy clench and her nipples tighten in their pretty new clamps.

  Her mouth watered and she groaned.

  He moved closer and traced her lips with his cock, leaving them glossy with pre-cum. Although she knew he was planning to tease, her tongue darted out to steal her first taste of him.

  “Don’t,” he scolded, pulling away. His fist tightened a moment while he seemed to contain himself. Then his mouth firmed and he ordered in that voice, “Suck me now.”

  She opened wide like a good girl, and salivated when that smooth, plump head slid inside. Curling her tongue around it, she tightened her lips to hold him there. He teased her, of course, holding himself back. Not letting her have more than a couple inches of him. Tightly bound as she was, Kate couldn’t move very much. She moaned around him when he finally began fucking her mouth, giving her more and more, until he was at the back of her throat.

  When her gag reflex threatened, he put his hand on her neck. “Easy, baby…” Somehow, that relaxed her enough that in a few more strokes, she was able to take the rest of him into her throat. “That’s my girl… Damn, that’s good.”

  Glen fucked into her throat, tugging at the flowers on her nipples with his free hand. Since the pain had subsided, she almost didn’t feel the clamps anymore. The pleasurable feelings traveled straight to her clit, making it throb anew.

  Without warning, he pulled fully out of her mouth and plucked the clamps off her nipples. The loss of it all made Kate cry out and her eyes water. As her nipples came awake with painful pleasure, Glen kissed her hard and deep, his cock pressing into her hip.

  When he broke the kiss, Kate gave him a flirty pout. “I wasn’t done with that.”

  “You’ll get it back soon,” he assured her in a husky voice. “I can smell how turned-on you are so I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy, now.”

  She gasped at the words and watched with lowered lids as he knelt between her legs.

  This time, there was no teasing tongue or puff of breath.

  This time, there was only his mouth.

  His hot, wet, sinfully-talented mouth. And he feasted on her. All of her. Bit her swollen labia. Licked her from stem to stern, and lapped up her honey with a curled tongue. Sucked her clit like it was a goddamn cherry Lifesaver. He ate her like she was the last meal of a dying man.

  Her pussy soon began its fluttery prelude, and he backed away, licking his lips. Positioning his iron-hard cock at her entrance, he filled her — slowly… inch by inch… until his balls were pressed tight against her ass. He pulled back out just as slowly, until the thick ridge of his cock head met resistance and triggered the most intense orgasm Kate had ever had. Her skin felt hot and cold and hot again, and every molecule in her body was singing the Hallelujah Chorus as Glen slammed back in to the hilt. Her pussy pulsed around him as he pistoned his hips, fucking her so hard the ottoman inched across the floor.

  She felt his cock swell, and the rush of sensation climbed her inner walls. Just when she expected to feel him explode inside her, he pulled out and gripped his shaft tightly at the root. Dark, greedy eyes swept up her body and held her gaze.

  “I’m gonna mark you, Kate.” His fist slid easily over his cock, still drenched from being inside her. She loved the wet sound it made as it slicked through his palm. And she loved the way the muscles of his chest and arms tightened before he finally squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. And she especially loved when his cock jerked and shot hot, white ropes that branded her belly and breasts.

  When they’d both come back down to earth, Glen gently removed Kate’s bindings and massaged her skin to get the circulation back. He led her through his neat, masculine bedroom to the bathroom with its big, glass shower. There, he scrubbed her and rinsed her, kissed her and hugged her, spanked her and fucked her.

  And though his marks were washed away and no longer visible, Kate knew they were still there. Even as he rubbed her dry with a warm, soft towel, she felt them.

  Branding her. Taking her body hostage.

  Making her his.

  THE END

&n
bsp; The Un-cashed Cheque

  CHAPTER ONE

  A plume of exhaust soot billows out from the blackened tailpipe of the long haul truck, which makes me think that this whole move may blow up in my face. I’ve always watched for the metaphors in life. If you pay attention, the universe talks to us. You just need to be aware.

  I’ve always found myself restless. My mom told me, like every good mother would, that I could do anything, but I want to do everything. My latest ‘everything’ is traveling alone across the country. I need this time to reset. My career can take a real toll on a person, and I wasn’t going to be a causality of it. I need time to think without anyone’s validation or advice. I’m at a point where I can choose a different path in the industry, so I’m headed to Los Angeles where all my avenues converge. Once I get there, I hope my destined path is clearer to me.

  Tonight’s my last night, and I’m going to spend it in good form. My friends are having a small rooftop gathering. We’re actually going to sleep out under the New York sky. I’m looking forward to this.

  I drag myself up the worn steps while taking in my surroundings for the last time. This is my last trip up to the apartment to retrieve my two overstuffed suitcases and three tote bags, all of which will ride with me. These are what I would consider necessities for my travels.

  I want to get this last goodbye over with as quickly as possible.

  “So, this is it, huh?”

  “Yep!” I feel a bit of a lump in my throat I wasn’t expecting.

  “Hey, I know we weren’t best friends or anything, but I still considered you a good friend.”

  I promised myself I wasn’t going to be a mega-bitch to her, but I can feel it creeping in. “Teal, please-please spare me the bullshit. You owe me at least that as a parting gift.”

  “You’re right. I couldn’t give two shits that you’re leaving.”

  “Was that so hard?”

  Before she answers, there’s a knock on the door. She does a half skip-jump dance move toward the door. I moved in with Teal just over two years ago. She is one of the main reasons I’m leaving this state. There is no dark back story. Neither of us had some trauma that renders us incapable of getting along. She is just a bitch, and I just don’t put up with it. Clapping and cheerful laughter fills the entryway, so I take that as my cue to grab my stuff and get the hell out of here.

  I throw the one tote with the large shoulder strap over my head, then across my body, and the thick canvas one over the handle of my smaller suitcase. Lastly, I heave the third tote over my shoulder. It pulls at my neck muscles, so I try to adjust it. I have a ways to go to get to my car, and the discomfort is only going to increase as I go. I’m determined not to come back here. Once the discomfort of my overstuffed tote is more tolerable, I pull up the handle on my second suitcase and pivot the suitcases in the direction of the door. I bump, fumble, and bounce off the frame of the door as I try to maneuver through it with all my gear. Teal and her friend just watch me struggle. I glare at them both. As I walk toward the exit, they’re both unmoved.

  “Do you mind?”

  Teal’s friend pulls her backward, so I can exit.

  Unbelievable. I have no idea how someone so self-adsorbed can survive in this day and age. You’d think someone would put her in her place.

  I trudge down the worn, faded, carpet to the elevator. I push the button in relief. I was made for friendlier people. New York is all business, and it can be quite depressing and mechanical. I’m ready for sunny California. There are certain things I will miss, but not much. I listen as the elevator creaks into place behind the brushed stainless steel doors. The doors lag as they open. No one else is onboard so I step right into the middle. I set one of my suitcases upright and push the circle that used to have ‘GL’ printed on it. The whole cab yo-yo’s to a stop at ground level. The doors open seamlessly down here. It’s a total lie that this is a properly functioning elevator. I step out, shifting my tote around. This is where my new journey begins.

  I load up my car, but for the price I paid to park, I won’t be moving it until I leave tomorrow. I grab two magazines that will take me at least two hours to get through. I’m headed to my favorite café. It’s a dive, but I totally love it. It’s like another world within the city where a handful of normal people, well my kind of normal, all converge.

  On my stroll to the café, I take in the scene with all of my senses. I halt at the intersection I usually run through. It’s congested. For months, angry people were protesting the newly installed traffic light. I take a moment to look at the disgruntled faces willing the light to change. I know full well I am taking my life into my hands because these people are rushed and mad as hell that they have been inconvenienced by the red light. They only see me as adding to their delay.

  I even breathe normally when I walk by the soggy grass that smells of sewage. I have walked this path many times, but today is my farewell. So, I embrace the shit smell and smile. California shit has to smell better than this.

  As I approach my destination, I recall how I found this spot. I had gone on a mission to discover my new surroundings. Today, it took me over a half hour to find it again, and I was a little unsettled by how easily I had gotten turned around. Once at the café, I linger along the wall as I try not to be too obvious about waiting for a certain table. I decide to put my mind control power to use on the couple at my table. “Come on, come on. Finish up.” The duo look like they are nearly done. They both have crumpled napkins in front of them, the parchment pastry bags are empty and their mason jars are empty. In my mind, I continue to remind them I’m waiting. I’m not obsessed with that particular table, but I have sat there many times. Come to think of it, I guess it’s my favorite table. It has a partially obstructed view of a garden, and it’s tucked near the corner where I can observe most of the patrons.

  Once they move, I stalk over to the table. Before I sit down, I do the most New Yorkish thing I have ever done. I shamelessly rotate the small table. It scrapes against the linoleum drawing attention my way. I wanted to sit right where I know ‘Bethany + Stella’ is carved into the wood. It’s part of the experience for me, plus I want to people-watch. I have a complete view of the place from this spot. I push the mess the last two people left behind, to the opposite side.

  The first time I came here, I sat at this exact table, which was unstable and terribly wobbly. The table rocked as I wrote, and to add to my annoyance, when I was near the bottom of the form I was filling out, my pen caught in a groove in the table, puncturing the paper, making it difficult to write the information in the allocated box. I lifted my papers discovering ‘Bethany + Stella’ for the first time. I let my mind wander about them. Were they still together and in love? Are they even real people or did someone just deface the table?

  I’m so excited for this party, yet, restless about the whole thing. I don’t like a lot of attention, and I prefer not to have organized gatherings in my honor. I’m just not that girl. My closest friends don’t even know my birthdate. But Fran has an amazing loft and her hosting skills are always something special. In a way, this is my grand finale. It’s both a melancholic and euphoric feeling. I take the steps two at a time because I can no longer contain my enthusiasm. I reach her apartment to find a cute chalkboard sign with ‘meet me in our spot’, written in bright pink letters. I savor the last few moments of anticipation and walk to the other end of the building to catch the elevator to the top of the complex.

  I immediately feel the bass thumping from the bottom of the flight of steps leading to the roof. My excitement turns to sadness in an instant. Behind that door are some of the best people I know. They won’t be gone from my life completely, but nor will they be a taxi ride away. My bottom lip trembles. My nose burns. This party is nothing more than a glorified and glamourous goodbye. I fight back the emotion that wants to seep from my body. My throat stiffens. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I want this, I need this change in my life, I’m not going to cry.r />
  Once there, I elbow the door open to complete and utter shock. This is not what I had pictured at all. I have been up here for several parties, and it has never looked like this. I’m stunned, frozen in place. My emotions are raw already, so I can’t contain the salty affection that slips out of the corner of my eyes. Through glossed over eyes, I watch as people chit-chat over brightly colored drinks. The scene before me is nothing short of magical. The city is a mere backdrop in the glow of strung up lights and massive candles. It’s an explosion of bright colors; mangos, papayas, turquoise, and fuchsia. Black and golds off set the bright colors making this nothing short of a luxurious heaven on earth.

  “Yay!” Fran floats in my direction clapping, then waving, then clapping again. Everyone else has turned to look, joining in on the applause.

  “This is just…” I wave my hand around aimlessly, at an utter loss of words.

  She hugs me tight, but I don’t realize that I’m not returning the embrace with the same fervor. I’m still looking over her shoulder, taking it all in. “Fabulous?! I call it Arabian Nights.”

  As she pulls away, the word finally comes to me. “Magnificent!”

  “I’m so glad you like it.”

  “I love it. But really, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” Every second, I pick up on another small detail like the vases full of feathers, the glittered zebra coasters placed on the tables, and the small tables with little buffet-style setups.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. This is for all those years you refused to let us celebrate your birthday or any kind of achievement you’ve made!”

  “No sense in celebrating more mediocrity.”

  “You celebrate everyone else but yourself. If it makes you feel any better, this is really for us. For all we knew, you would have just slipped out of the city early one morning, and then let everyone know you were now in California.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.” It really hadn’t. My friends are important to me. They give me a sense of purpose. I love how each one adds something different and interesting to my life. Mostly, I love how they’re just on my side whether I’m right or wrong.