by Bebe Wilde
“Do it,” I said.
“Do you want to go into the bedroom?” he asked.
I shook my head. I had never let him in there, into my bed. We fucked, sure we did, but always in different spots around the house. He wanted back in there, I knew, but I wasn’t having it. If he wanted sex, he could only give it to me somewhere besides there. Sure, I had let him back into my pants, but never my bed.
He turned me around and pushed me up on the kitchen counter. I grabbed his face and pulled his lips on mine, kissing him hard, kissing him so hard he moaned and opened his mouth so I could slip my tongue in. Another image of Roman came to me, this time he was on the couch, studying me, asking me those silly questions. I smiled at the thought, at him, thinking about him sitting there and then making a move on me, grabbing me and just taking me, making me want him and his hard cock.
The image was so strong, I gasped when Kier pulled down the top of my dress and my bra, exposing my breasts. He grabbed onto one nipple with his mouth, sucking it into his mouth hard and biting down slightly on it. His other hand went back up my dress and slipped into my panties again and he began to finger me as he stroked my pussy. I was so hot, I was swollen, swollen with need for him. Then he pulled my panties off and really went at it, fingering me with ease and purpose, getting me off. Oh, fuck! That felt so damned good.
I imagined Roman doing what he was doing. Would he be rough, like I wanted him to be? Or would he be methodical, taking his time to turn me on and make me come? I didn’t know but Kier kept at it, stroking my clit until I came and when I did, I pulled his face into my breasts, holding his head as I rocked against his hand.
In no time, my panties were on the floor and his pants were around his ankles. Then his hard cock, a good sized one at that, was sticking out at me. I grabbed onto it and stroked it a little, and then opened my legs wide. He shoved himself into me, that hard cock filling me up, and then we began to fuck.
He whispered in my ear, “You are so fucking hot. You are the hottest woman I know.”
And the odd thing was, I think he really believed that. He kept coming back to me, didn’t he? I was a good fuck, that was for sure. But I was selective. He was the only man I’d had since the day we’d met. He, however, had not been so choosy.
Kier kissed me for a moment, then began to lick my neck, sucking at it, then kissed me down to my chest, to the tops of my breasts, then grabbed onto a nipple with his mouth. He sucked at it as I began to move with him, against him, and then I felt it, the second orgasm and this one was quick and to the point. I grabbed onto his shoulders and moved against him, letting it take me over and he was right there with me, coming hard inside of me. Once we were finished, we kissed for a moment and he pulled away first, smiling at me.
“Shut up,” I said.
He chuckled, kissed my forehead and then stepped back, pulling up his pants. “Always a good fuck,” he said. “Why don’t we get back together?”
“Because you can’t keep it in your pants?” I said and hopped down from the counter and adjusted my dress. I looked around for my panties, found them and pulled them on.
“I could now,” he said, watching me. “I’m done with that. I’m getting older. I want to settle down. I want to—”
“Have a family, live in a small town in Texas and raise horses,” I finished for him. “You’ve said all this to me before, remember? That’s how you convinced me to marry you. And you were lying.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” he said. “I just wasn’t ready for it then. But I am now.”
I rolled my eyes. He was a bit too much at times.
He picked up a pack of cigarettes I had on the counter. “Started smoking again, I see,” he said and chuckled, then lit one.
“No!” I exclaimed. “I don’t smoke in the house!”
“You used to,” he said, smoking his cigarette.
“Shut up,” I said, staring at him, thinking of my predicament. He was definitely a rich son of a bitch. He had been in hit movie after hit movie and even had producing credits. He could spare a few million and never miss it. But did I have the nerve to ask him? Could I ask him for a loan? And that’s what it would be, a loan, nothing more, nothing less. Once I was back on my feet, I’d pay him everything back. He could give me that much.
Deep down, I knew that he would readily give the money. He’d love to give me money. He’d love what that meant, that he had something on me. That he was doing something for me. That I was depending on him. I hated the thought, to be honest. I knew if I took his money, that meant I would, quite literally, be back in bed with him. A booty call was one thing. Feeling indebted, which would lead to feeling ingratiated, wasn’t something I wanted to do, especially after the way he had treated me when we were married. No, I didn’t want that. Fool me once… Well, let’s just say that he had fooled me twice. Or more than that. Oh, God, I hated this. I hated that I was in this situation. Hated the fact that I was even considering asking for a loan from my ex-husband, whom I’d just fucked and, from the look on his face, fucked well. We did have that in common but that was about it.
Well, here goes nothing. I opened my mouth to say something when my cell rang. I stared at it, on the kitchen counter, and then picked up. It was Hailey.
“The house in Pasadena just went into escrow!” she squealed.
“What?!” I asked, excited and relieved at the same time.
“Yeah!” she said. “The seller agreed to the price! She’s going to sell! The buyers are ecstatic!”
She was truly my angel. I exclaimed, “I love you! That is so cool!”
“I know it’s great,” she said. “We’re coming back, Teagan. I can feel it!”
I smiled. Maybe we were. Maybe this was a turning point, the one I’d been searching for, the one I needed so badly. My smile grew wider. Now I didn’t have to ask Kier for any money and I certainly didn’t have to sell my diamond earrings. Maybe things were looking up. In no time, I knew, just knew, I’d be back in the game and back on top. People needed houses and they needed me to sell them to them. And for them.
Now I could concentrate on Roman Juniper’s house. It would be a hard sell, that was for sure. It would take a certain type of buyer, one I would have to find myself. It would take lots of talking, lots of leg work and plenty of Southern charm. It would be the hardest job of my life but I was up to the challenge.
“Thanks, Hailey,” I said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Nighty-night,” she said and giggled, then hung up.
I tossed my cell on the counter and turned to Kier. “You need to leave.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I have work to do.”
End Book 1
Continued In Book 2 - A Little Bit Rough
A Little Bit Rough
The A Little Bit Trilogy
Book 2
A Little Bit Rough
The A Little Bit Trilogy
Book 2
Bebe Wilde
Abernathy and Monroe
A Little Bit Rough. Copyright © 2013 by Bebe Wilde.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher. For more information, email [email protected]
Published by Abernathy and Monroe.
eBook ISBN–13: 978-1-938107-33-7
eBook ISBN–10: 1-938107-33-0
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
For Him.
Continued from Book 1 - A Little Bit Submissive
Contents—A Little Bit Rough
Master Table of Contents
Acquiesce
The Second Man I Ever Loved
The Flogger Incident
Acquiesce
He was a little bit rough with me. It was
his way. I didn’t mind; it only added to the passion, to the excitement.
A woman wants a man to take control of her. Well, maybe not all women. But some women. I was one of those women. I’d never admit it, of course, but I’d beg him for it. For the kiss of the whip, or in my case, the riding crop. A smack, a good hard smack across the bottom. A nice clean mark, a little red mark left for me to stare at the next day and remember his hands on me.
Admittedly, I didn’t want to want him. But I couldn’t help myself. He had something I wanted. And I, in turn, had something he wanted. We skirted the issue for a while, always coming back to it only to ignore it, to turn away from it. But it was there, lingering, begging us to pay attention. But we didn’t. Instead, we did other things to take our minds off it. But then again, maybe the things we did together were leading us to the thing we wanted most from one another. Maybe that thing was love, real, true love.
He saw me for me and he saw me as this total sexual creature, someone he could fuck and someone he could take control of and someone he could make do anything he wanted. He made me feel like a young woman who first falls in love and doesn’t know what to do about it other than just feel it, feel the love that is welled up inside and comes out in submission.
He manhandled me. He made me grovel, crawl—literally—on all fours. He made this woman come out in me and beg him for his cock.
I loved every minute of it.
But we’d only just met. We had a business relationship first and then came this, whatever this was, this sexual relationship. It seemed to spring up out of nowhere, too, what we had. I wanted to run from it but found myself compelled to stay. And yet, I wanted to be in control, to see how far I could push him, if only to see how far it would go. But it wasn’t going to happen like that. No, this man was of a totally different kind. We were playing by his rules, the way he wanted it. He wasn’t looking for a quick fuck and he didn’t want a shared cigarette afterwards and he would never be awkward about anything. What we did didn’t embarrass him. It came like second nature. Perhaps, one day, it would feel like that to me as well.
“Get up on all fours, Teagan,” he demanded, in part to see if I would do it. To see if I could do it, if I could reach down inside of me and bring out that sexual creature. He said it like he was my boss, like he expected me to do what he wanted without question. I didn’t know if I could let myself be totally submissive, to be honest. I was so afraid of that part of myself.
A flash of humiliation coursed through my body, which was exactly what he wanted. “Fuck you, Roman,” I said, almost timidly, still a little afraid of him and still unsure of myself.
He came over to me and pressed his mouth close to my ear. “You act like you want it, Teagan.”
“I don’t know if I do,” I said and closed my eyes. But I did want it. I wanted him to bring it out in me. I had to have that push, if only to give myself permission to go through with it.
“You’re lying, aren’t you?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“Then tell me how much you want it,” he said, breathing heavily into my ear.
“No,” I said, turning away from him.
“Come on now,” he said. “Tell me.”
“I want it so bad,” I murmured, barely audible.
“Now show me.”
Show me. Prove it. Do it now. I did it. I eagerly did it. I was under his control, that’s what kind of person I was. He made me feel things I never thought I’d feel, this woman inside of me, this submissive woman who would do what the man wanted just because that’s the way I inwardly thought it was supposed to be. I didn’t shy away from it but I didn’t analyze it either. I didn’t think about what it meant and what that made me. These were games, a way for us to get to the sex, a way for us to get to know each other better and, maybe, just maybe, a way for him to dominate me. He foisted it onto me, all of this, just as he had cracked the crop across my buttocks many other times. I would cry out with pain but also with liberation at allowing someone else to be in control—thank you, thank you, thank you!
“How?” I asked.
“Take off your clothes.”
I stared at him, at his handsome face, at his tall, muscular and strong body. I stared into his blue eyes, which were telling me everything I needed to know: You can trust me. This is just a game, a test. Can you handle it?
I looked away, feeling his eyes on me, as always. He took in my body, the curves, the firm breasts, then he took in my pretty face and my long, strawberry blonde hair. I turned to face him and our eyes locked, my green eyes with his blue ones. We stared at each other and refused to back down.
But then… Then I got that feeling again, that feeling of not wanting to do this. He should just leave. I should tell him to just leave, to never come back and forget about it. He’d knocked on my door earlier, just as he had several times before. Like usual we didn’t bother with the small talk. We just went right into it, into this, into this place of lust and dominance. He wanted me to submit, to allow him to take over, to be the man, the one in charge. He did it in a rough way; there was a certain élan to it. It was what it was. Submit to me, he implied, though the words rarely fell from his lips. If only I could do that. But there was always something that wanted to stop me. I had to fight that something, that little voice in the back of my head going, “Whoa! What are you doing, girl?” But I couldn’t listen to that voice, not in that moment. I had to do this. So, I conceded.
“Well?” he asked.
“I acquiesce,” I said, knowing that while I was submitting, that while I was agreeing to what he wanted me to, that I would get what I wanted too. At least I hoped it turned out like that.
It was all about trust. I had to learn to trust him. It was that simple.
My words pleased him. That’s what he wanted to hear. He sat down on the couch and nodded for me to strip. My hands trembled with excitement as I began to undress and they continued doing this as I removed each item of clothing until I was naked in front of him. I felt so vulnerable, but so alive. I had to admit that I loved his eyes on me like that, taking me in so thoroughly, making the lust in him grow and build.
“Now come here,” he said.
I went and stood in front of him. He looked up at me and slid his hand between my legs and then began to play with me, with my clit. I stayed still as he did that and within seconds, he was bringing me to an intense orgasm. It didn’t take long. That’s how much power he had over me. Soon, I was shaking with it, shivering, wanting more, wanting his cock inside of me.
“Ahh,” I moaned as I was overcome. “Ahhh, yeah…”
Once the orgasm had dissipated, he stood and kissed me, kissed me hard and then without a word, left me standing there alone and naked and wanting more. He was headed to the door. What the hell was that all about? I called out to him, “Don’t go.”
“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he asked.
My head dropped. Yes. And no. Again, he was punishing me, punishing me by withholding. Making me crazy! He was so good at that, at making me crazy. But I knew why he was doing this, why the punishment wasn’t necessarily about the riding crop or the spanking or even the dominance. The punishment was about him not trusting me. It was our issue, trust, and one that tripped us up almost on a daily basis.
“I want you,” I told him and meant it.
He nodded once, quickly. “Then do as I say.”
I turned to him. I was ready for that.
“Get down and crawl over to me,” he told me, his French accent coming out. “I want to see how you move. I want to know that you want this.”
I got down on all fours and headed over to him, my hips swaying as I did so. I did feel a flash of humiliation but I overrode it in anticipation of what was to come. Then I was at him, at his feel, below him. What next?
He bent down to me, cupping my chin in his hand and pulled my soft lips to his. He gave me a light kiss and pulled back. “What do you want, Teagan? What do you want from m
e?”
Could I say it? Could I verbalize it? I wanted his love, if only I would allow myself to admit it. I wanted him, all of him, every inch of his soul. I wanted to lose myself in him and give myself over. But could I? Should I? Would I? I didn’t know. But that’s what these games were about; they were about me submitting not only my body but my heart. He was waiting for that, just as I was waiting on him to do the same. We were waiting one another out. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out, either.
“I want you,” I said, hating to admit it, hating the perceived weakness in my voice. “To love me.”
“What would we do with that?” he asked. “Love? What do we do with love?”
What an odd question. I didn’t know. I just knew what I wanted.
“Love doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s all about feeling. It confuses everyone. Don’t let it confuse you.”
Did that mean he didn’t love me? I didn’t know if I could handle that, not after all we’d been through. But I knew he did; he did love me. Just getting him to verbalize it was the hard part. I wanted to scream at him, Admit it so we can move forward! I never did.
“But this,” he said and turned me around so that my ass was facing him. “This is real. It’s pleasure. It’s flesh.” He gave my ass a good, hard smack. “It’s there, in front of you. It has nothing to do with love.”