by Lynn LaFleur
How great was that, he thought. More coming up.
“Roll over, Abby.”
Brett slid a pillow beneath her midriff. He parted her legs and admired the feminine beauty exposed to him. He couldn’t resist driving his tongue into her sweet ass again. Abby arched her back, opening herself more to him. His cock grew harder with each swipe of his tongue across her sensitive flesh.
“I want to play a little.” He pushed his thumb into her ass. “You okay with that?”
She whimpered and nodded. He rewarded her agreement with another long lick between her thighs.
Brett rolled to the edge of the bed. He knew Abby watched what he selected from the treasure chest. He held it up for her inspection. “Are you okay with this?” He thought she might object. Instead, she licked her lips.
He poured a generous amount of lube on his fingers and spread it over her anus. He dipped one slick finger inside. “Do you like this?”
“Oh yes.”
“Do you think you can take another finger?”
She answered by wiggling her butt.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” A second finger joined the first. Brett slowly pumped them in and out of her ass, getting her ready for what he planned next.
Abby pushed back against Brett’s fingers, driving them farther inside her. She propped up on one elbow, making room to flutter her fingertip against her clit.
Brett watched, fascinated at how gracefully she sought the most pleasurable position. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. I love watching you touch yourself.” He wobbled his fingers against the wall of her ass. “Keep touching yourself. I want to see how good our fingers can make it for you.”
Good was hardly the word—amazing, incomprehensible, unbelievable. She’d never allowed a man to touch her ass, and she’d certainly never touched herself in front of anyone. Now it all seemed so right, so natural.
“Oh Brett, I’ve never been so turned on.” Then she took a look over her shoulder and gasped. Brett’s cock seemed to have doubled in size. What would his cock feel like inside her ass? She swallowed hard.
While he massaged her ass with one hand, he palmed himself with the other. How outrageous, how feral, how divine!
She’d never dreamed how incredible anal play would feel. Sex had always been good for her, but she’d never been very adventurous. With Brett, she wanted to try everything.
“Popcorn!” she cried out.
“Popcorn? What are you—”
“Popcorn,” she cried again, still massaging her clit while she continued moving against his hand. Pleasure enveloped her, in and out, up and down. Any more and she might become delirious. “It was popcorn sauce on the fish.”
He slowed his hand. She groaned in protest.
“Didn’t I warn you what would happen if you deliberately gave the wrong answer?”
She rested her forehead on her balled fist and nodded her head.
“What did I say?” He drew one finger out of her ass.
“No, don’t stop.”
“What did I say?”
“If I did it on purpose, you’d…you’d…”
“Punish you?”
She nodded again. Chills and thrills warred with desire and anxiety. She remembered the other playroom. No, she wasn’t ready for that, but he’d said there were many ways to give pleasure.
He removed his other finger. She crossed her arms and rested her forehead on them, ready for what he would do next.
“I’ll give you one last chance to redeem yourself before I have to punish you. What was the sauce on the fish?”
God help me, she thought, and said in a voice almost muffled by her fist, “Popcorn!”
She kept her eyes shut. She heard his footsteps. He’d taken something else from the treasure chest, walked back to her side and took hold of her right wrist. Before she realized what he did, he snapped a fur-lined cuff around it and locked it into a notch at the head of the bed.
“One more time. What kind of sauce on the fish?”
She hesitated. He’d already taken her other wrist.
“Popcorn!”
And with that a whack cracked against her bare ass. Startled she flew up, but Brett placed a hand on her upper back, strong, urgent, yet yielding if necessary, to hold her in place while he locked the other cuffed wrist to another notch.
Her ass cheek stung in time to the thrumming in her pussy.
“What was in the sauce?”
“Popcorn!” she cried out again.
Brett continued to “interrogate” Abby until her cheeks were fiery to the touch. She wasn’t sure if she could take any more when he laid a hand on her flaming cheek. “Sweetheart, I think that’s enough for now.”
She nodded.
Gently, he unlatched the cuffs and removed them from her wrists. He tossed them back in the chest and took out a tube of lotion. “I’m going to massage your beautiful little behind with this, okay? It’s going to feel cool at first.”
Abby flinched when the cool salve touched her skin but she was soon purring. She rested her head on her forearms and closed her eyes. “Umm, that feels so good.”
He stopped and reached for the lubricant. “Are you game for more?”
“Absolutely!”
“Then I think I know something that will feel even better.”
“What?” She drawled the word.
“Relax, lie back and enjoy it.”
She jerked when a stream of lube flowed over her anus.
“You okay?” he asked, lightly nipping one buttock.
“I’m good.”
“Mmm, you certainly are.”
He nipped her other cheek. She heard plastic tear. Abby had seen the butt plug he’d taken from the chest. She tensed, anxious about something else she’d never done.
“I warmed this in my hand, but it might be cool.”
He pressed the plug against her anus. Abby clenched her fists.
“Relax, baby. I’ll stop whenever you want me to. I will not hurt you.”
She unclenched her fists and took a deep breath. He separated her cheeks and pushed the plug into her opening. A moment later he withdrew it, then pushed it back, a little deeper. He continued, in and out, in and out—each time pushing the plug deeper.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head. “I want more.”
He repeated the action until Abby felt the base of the plug against her.
“Damn, that’s pretty.” Brett’s voice sounded hoarse and uneven. “You look so sexy with a plug in your ass.”
He slid his arms under her middle and raised her butt in the air. Abby whimpered when he licked her pussy again. She leaned forward on her arms, giving him easier access to her clit. He took her almost to the point of another orgasm before he stopped.
“No, don’t stop.”
“I’m not. I’m going to make it better.”
A moment later, he thrust his cock into her channel. Abby clutched a pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. Brett held her hips tightly and began to pump. Each movement bumped the plug in her ass. The tension inside her climbed higher and higher. Abby threw back her head and howled when she peaked.
She fought to force air into her lungs. Behind her, Brett thrust a final time before he shuddered and collapsed on the bed.
Almost too limp to move, Brett somehow managed to dispose of the soiled condom and curl Abby into his arms. She pressed herself into the warmth of his chest. Exhausted and completely sated, she closed her eyes. If this was what it was like to die and go to heaven, she was ready.
“Brett,” she murmured.
“Um-hum,” he answered.
“You think I’d be in trouble if I showed up at the pearly gates wearing a butt plug?”
Chapter Eleven
“Abby?” She heard someone whisper her name. “The carriage is on its way. Time to rise and shine, sweetheart.”
Carriage? What was the voice talking about?
She dug in deeper. How she loved the
feel of silk against her cheek…silk against her cheek! Her eyes sprang open and for a second, she had no idea where she was or with whom.
“I hated to wake you.” Brett sat on the edge of the bed, tying the lace on one of his shoes. “You had the sweetest smile on your lips.” He leaned over and brushed his against hers. “So kissable.”
Abby pulled the sheet high before she pushed up on her elbows. “I fell asleep?” Embarrassment sent of rush of heat to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry… I…”
Brett tousled her hair before sliding the sheet out of her hands and baring her breasts. “Don’t deny me one last look before we go.” This time, he bent lower and kissed each of her nipples. Involuntarily, they hardened, standing ready for what she hoped would follow.
“What time is it?”
“Almost twelve. I asked Raoul to send the coach at midnight.”
Wasn’t that how all fairy tales ended? Midnight and pumpkins. She wiggled her toes beneath the sheet. For the last four hours, Brett had made love to her in more ways than she dreamed possible. She’d stopped counting her orgasms at five. Was it possible she’d reached double digits?
He’d been such an unselfish lover, always putting her pleasure first. She’d been shy to share her fantasies, but he’d found ways to hint and cajole until he knew precisely what to do next. She didn’t need to say a word, their minds were that attuned.
And in between their lovemaking, they’d lain facing each other, fingers entwined, sharing things about themselves she’d never shared with anyone else.
She resisted when Brett tugged on her hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Time to get dressed.”
“Can’t we stay a little while longer?” Palms up and open, she swept her arms out and back. She wished she could gather what she saw and take it with her. “This place is magical.”
“It’s only magical when you’re with the right person.” He slipped his hands around hers and added a gentle squeeze. “You and I definitely make magic together.”
Brett was fully dressed except for his tie. He’d draped that under his collar and let the ends dangle on his pleated shirt front. A golden shadow covered his cheeks and chin. Even when he’s ninety, Abby thought, he’ll have skin as soft as a baby’s with only a dusting of a blond beard.
After Brett tugged on her hands again, she sat up, slowly at first, aching a bit in the most intimate places. She glanced down to find a flaming red love bite on her right inner thigh and wondered if that was the lone souvenir she’d take with her tonight. Her fingers caught on a tangle of curls when she pushed a hank of hair out of her eyes. She had no idea where her clothes had landed.
Brett must have read her mind. He pointed to one of the massive carved wooden chairs at the far end of the room. Two sat side by side, like rough hewn thrones. Someone had draped her dress on the back. Her shoes and handbag sat primly on the velvet seat cushion.
“What about…”
“I tucked your stockings in your purse.” He dropped her earrings in her palm. “Turn around and I’ll fasten your necklace.”
She did as told and lifted her hair. That left only the red thong. “What about…” she asked over her shoulder.
With that same wicked smile, he patted the pocket of his jacket. “I’m two for two.”
And if we keep doing this, I’ll run out of underwear.
Dressed only in a necklace and earrings Abby walked slowly away from the bed, across the room fit for a royal pair, to the dual thrones and her dress. She felt Brett watching her. The things they’d done in the past four hours had cured her of her shyness.
She shuffled through her handbag for a comb and walked to the large mirror that hung on the wall opposite the bed. Had it been only an hour ago when she’d stood boldly in front of the mirror watching Brett make love to her? He’d coaxed her to watch, and kept reminding her to keep her eyes open so she’d remember how she looked when she came.
After that, Abby had barely had time to catch her breath. Brett had led her back to the bed, instructed her to close her eyes or risk the mask again. She’d heard him walk out of the room and return seconds later.
“Open your eyes.”
She did and gasped at the huge pewter tray Brett carried. It was piled high with an assortment of fruits and mounds of whipped cream.
He sat down beside her, placed the tray to his right and lifted her into his lap. He did it so quickly and easily, she might have weighed little more than a feather—a feather as naked as the day she was born.
Somewhere, Brett had found a loin cloth and wrapped it around his hips and thighs. It did little good, she decided, especially with his very hard cock pressing against her.
“What are you doing—“
“Shh!”
She pressed her lips together, content to watch him swirl his fingers through the cream. Her breath caught and she shivered when he painted a circle around the areola of her left breast.
“What do you say?”
She squirmed in his lap. His cock felt harder still. “Thank you.”
From there he moved to her stomach, tickled her navel and then walked his fingers over her mound and between her legs. She balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to imagine what came next.
Brett laid her on the bed. He placed a pillow beneath her head and another under her bottom. She had no choice, her legs fell open.
She smelled the strawberry first, and when she opened her eyes she saw a dish filled with the bright red fruit, each almost the size of the palm of her hand.
Besides the fragrance of the strawberries, she caught the scent of warmed figs. Another bowl held Bing cherries still on the stems, several bananas, and an orange-sized pomegranate, with skin a deep shade of ruby.
Brett swirled and dipped one of the strawberries in the cream. He tasted the tip. “Umm. Almost as sweet as you, my love.” With that, he lightly skimmed one of the peaks of cream and fed the rest to her.
Abby lay with her knees spread, covered in goose bumps. Every nerve begged for his touch. Her pussy wept and her clit thrummed.
“Brett, please…”
He dipped another strawberry and slid it past her lips. “Please what?” He teased her mouth and tongue with the berry while he drew slow, easy circles around her clit with the index finger of his other hand.
Abby felt another climax building. She needed more than teasing. Her pussy was crying out for attention. She didn’t want another strawberry, she wanted that wonderful cock that tented his loin cloth. She wanted him inside her.
“Brett, please, I want you…oh…my…god!”
That’s how they’d begun the dessert portion of the evening, and before he’d “licked the platter clean”, she’d discovered new ways to enjoy fruit she’d never even fantasized possible.
She giggled again, remembering that she’d even had a cherry again—three to be exact—big, round, darkly bold Bings. He’d slowly slipped them inside her, and when she thought her mind would explode as well as her body, he’d found a way to pop them out, both maddening and divine. How she wished she’d lost the original with such finesse.
When they’d tired of playing with the fruit, Brett had scooped Abby into his arms and carried her to a candlelit alcove that looked out on the ocean. A slow fall of clear spring water flowed down a wall made of rocks and into a pool warmed to the perfect temperature and fragrant with an elixir that cleansed as well as healed. Afterward, he carried her back to the bed, spread her legs apart and gently massaged her with lotion and powder. It was the most caring thing anyone had done for her in her adult life.
She saw he’d enjoyed it too. His face glowed with a mix of joy, tenderness and undeniable passion. There wasn’t a woman alive who, at one time or another, hadn’t wished for a fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and call up a Prince Charming like Brett. But there was so much more to him than charm and sexual prowess. He had the depth other men lacked. She ached to peel away his many layers, right to the heart and soul of him.
&nb
sp; Now, as she stood before the mirror, she saw the reflection of the woman who had been thoroughly loved. She saw it in her eyes, in her lips still swollen from the most incredible kisses she’d ever given or received, right down to two more love bites, one on each of the cheeks of her ass to match the one on her inner thigh. Normally love bites annoyed her. She let her fingers dance over them, remembering the height of passion when he’d given them to her. Her knees felt wobbly but amazingly, her body was primed and ready again.
Abby knew she wasn’t through. This was a once in a lifetime night, and even if she couldn’t walk for three days, she wasn’t ready to end it.
She turned and beckoned Brett to join her. He obliged by sliding his arms around her waist and nibbling the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “You are the most incredible lover, Ms. Abby Horton.”
She pressed against him. “Me? You did all the work.”
“If that’s work, where do I sign up for overtime?”
Abby turned in his arms. “It’s not midnight yet.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Is that a complaint?”
He laughed out loud. “Not from me.”
They both turned at the dull toll of heavy metal sounding from the great room.
“Good lord, what is that?”
“I’m sorry, baby. That’s Raoul with the carriage.”
Brett helped Abby into her dress and took the comb from her. He gently organized the rusty curls she thought beyond control and captured them once again in the silver clip.
“Good as new,” he announced at her reflection. “Now for your shoes.”
“Do I wear them both? Or leave one so you’ll know where to find me?”
He circled her waist again, tilted her chin and latched onto her gaze. “There isn’t a place you could hide that I wouldn’t find you. Not the deepest jungle, not in the valleys of the moon.” He placed her hand on his shoulder and then he knelt down, slid one slipper on and then the other. Both fully dressed, he said, “Take my hand. We don’t want to keep Raoul waiting.”
* * * * *