Playing with Fire

by Alison Tyler

  “Where are we going, Daniel?” I asked, breaking up their animated conversation. My mother was married, but I could tell she wanted a little spice in her life. I grabbed Olivier’s hand and she grabbed Daniel’s. Olivier’s hand radiated heat. Butterflies dashed around in my stomach.

  “The bar’s not too far from here,” said Daniel. “I go every time I’m here. I don’t dance, but I love to listen to the band.”

  Olivier’s hand moved to my lower back. We walked and talked along the way.

  “So do you like salsa music usually?” I inquired, touching Olivier’s arm.

  “No, but I’d like to get your sexy body on the dance floor,” he said softly into my ear.

  My mom and Daniel were ahead of us. We were behind in the darkness. His lips moved closer to my ear. I could feel his breath on my neck.

  The salsa bar was loud, and the music rang in my ears. Bright lights decorated the entire bar area and the band was dressed in zesty oranges, reds, and blues. There was a real actual disco ball above the dance floor.

  Daniel set a drink in front of me as soon as I sat at the table. I paid him back for it. I was still buzzed from the drink earlier. The room was spinning in no time, the lights a kaleidoscope. Daniel set another drink in front of me and wouldn’t accept my money this time. He and my mom sat at a table next to ours and looked at menus. She started talking to a guy with long hair next to her. Olivier led me to the dance floor and pressed his body to mine. In my liquor haze I pressed my lips to his. I had no idea how to salsa but our bodies seemed to move together seamlessly. His hands went to my waist and his hips swirled. I broke eye contact to see an older woman in spandex next to the stage moving to the music. She was precise in her movements and extremely sexual. It was like a dream, the music, the lights, the woman and her fuchsia lipstick, her short gray hair slicked back against her head. Olivier pulled me out the back door where we ended up on the rocky beach. He pulled me close like we had been inside. The music echoed outside and the soft tide mingled in to create a perfect soundtrack. I pulled apart to look at the ocean and noticed a tall blond man standing near us. His eyes were distant. He looked at the waves crashing. I got a rush of excitement when I realized I wondered what it would be like for him to join in. I wonder if he would. He was young, attractive, and looked lonely.

  Olivier put his hands under my shirt and kissed my neck. I let him touch me how he wanted to. It felt fantastic. The smell of the ocean stuck to our skin. I didn’t know if he was drunk, but it didn’t really matter. With his lips tugging on my ear, he put us both down in the rocky sand. He was on top of me and I could feel his cock against my thigh. “Mmm,” I murmured, reaching down to unzip his pants. I freed his cock and stroked it gently. I hardly noticed the sound of footsteps in the sand, as my grip tightened a bit on Olivier. I opened my eyes when I felt someone standing next to me. It was the blond.

  No one said anything and I didn’t freeze up at all. I was on vacation and it was time to do something like this. Olivier stopped what he was doing and looked up at the man. The man’s pupils were large with excitement. I could see them burning in the darkness. He knelt down next to us in the sand. Olivier’s hands were still on my breasts. He moved them to my waist, kissed me, gripped and moved me onto my hands and knees. He lifted my shirt up and kissed my lower back. I was facing the stranger. I arched my back and nudged Olivier’s chest. He slid off my shiny black pants. I hadn’t worn any underwear because I knew something like this would happen. I made eye contact with the stranger. He was still on his knees and looking down at me. Olivier licked my already wet pussy and stuck two fingers inside me while I stared into the stranger’s eyes. His face was extremely masculine: a large nose with a ridge on it, and a strong jawline. His hair was short and slightly messy. He was wearing dress pants and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I took note of every part of him while Olivier worked my pussy over. I panted and moaned softly. I didn’t want to be too loud and bring attention to us outside. My hands and knees sunk into the sand.

  I could hear the music from the club. When I closed my eyes, I could still see the lights. They bounced around on my eyelids.

  “Time to open the compartment,” Olivier said. I turned my head to see him getting the condom out of the pocket. I smiled and panted: my pussy wanted to be penetrated by his French cock. He opened the package up and slid the condom on. I turned back to face the stranger. By that time he had freed his dick from his pants. He nudged it softly against my nose without saying anything. Olivier shoved his cock inside of me. I squealed with pleasure and put my lips around the stranger’s dick. They both pumped inside me. The stranger tasted mildly of sweat. His cock fit nicely into my mouth. And he was courteous—he didn’t shove it down my throat. He was gentlemanly. Olivier gripped my waist and the stranger gripped my hair. I whimpered, the cock muffling any sounds that tried to escape.

  I came hard, shoving my ass into Olivier, my cum drenching his pubic hair and dripping onto the sand. The stranger could tell I was getting off and shot his load hard into my mouth. I pulled away, somewhat ill prepared. His cum dripped from my lips.

  Olivier pulled out, put his hand around my waist, and helped me stand up. I pulled my pants up and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The cum stuck to my lips, the taste salty and raw.

  The stranger zipped himself into his pants, leaned over, kissed my cheek, and walked away.

  I had sand on my hands and all over the knees of my pants. Olivier threw the condom away in a trash can. We walked back inside, my head still spinning.

  “Where were you guys?” asked my mother, sucking on a cigarette.

  “Dancing on the beach,” I winked at her and she slapped me across the arm.

  The old lady was still dancing by the stage. Olivier had his hand on my lower back. The lights were still surreal. When I was being fucked I didn’t even notice my spinning head. But when I focused on the bright colors of the band, everything started to swirl. I needed to get out fast.

  Daniel, my mother, Olivier, and I left the bar. Olivier and Daniel grabbed on to my arms and made sure I could walk. I was fine but I enjoyed having them on either side. My mother walked on Daniel’s side.

  “It’s perfect weather, isn’t it?” my mom asked.

  “Yeah, it was beautiful outside….” I trailed off.

  “Oh, when you were dancing?” She winked at me.

  The guys dragged me back to the hotel and by the time we reached the door, I was feeling a little better.

  “I’m going up,” said my mom. “Don’t stay out too late.”

  I had no idea what time it was.

  “See you all tomorrow,” Daniel said, and walked away behind my mother.

  Olivier and I were left alone outside.

  “I had a good time tonight.” I smiled.

  He held me around the waist. “I did, too. But now I have to fill the pocket again.”

  We laughed. He kissed my mouth and put his hands on my ass, slightly gripping.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, smacking my ass.

  I took my dizzy ass up to my room to get some sleep before my day on the beach tomorrow. I licked my lips.

  I knew that I’d never forget the beach in Nice.

  FANNING THE FLAMES

  Andrea Dale

  Oh, now he’d done it.

  Catriona had never been one for pitching fits, but so help her, right now she just wanted to stamp her foot and let out a nice cathartic scream of pure frustration.

  But the last thing she wanted to see was the glittering amusement in Jake McGovern’s dark eyes at her tantrum.

  The last thing she wanted to see was, in fact, Jake McGovern.

  “Good evening, Ms. Sullivan,” he said, all suave and solid in his tuxedo, the bump of his gun not even visible. Unless that was a gun in his custom trousers, and she was reasonably sure he was storing something else entirely there.

  She’d spent some quality time alone with her vibrator fantasizing abo
ut just what the bodyguard’s cock might look like. And feel like…

  “Take the night off, Jake,” she said, indicating the front door of her soon-to-be-ex fiancé Timothy’s Atlanta penthouse. “It’s not that big a party.”

  “He asked me to look after you tonight,” Jake said. He leaned against the wall, but his body was anything but relaxed.

  Dammit. She was screwed.

  Timothy, her fiancé, was cheating on her. In fact, she knew damn well his current “business trip” wasn’t about business. Apparently he thought he was being discreet, or he thought she was stupid (or probably, both), but the upshot was simple: she was outta here.

  She had no interest in confronting him or creating a scene. He was disgustingly wealthy and extremely powerful, and he’d make her life hell if she did. Nope, she was just going to gather up the expensive jewelry and designer clothes and a few electronic toys—all things he’d given her, nothing more—and take off.

  The plan was simple: She’d make an appearance at the Morelli’s charity ball, then slip out, and no one would be the wiser for several days. Her bags were packed and in the trunk of her Mercedes SUV.

  Now Timothy had screwed everything up, via Jake.

  There was no arguing with Jake, either. Hell, she’d figure something out. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “You look lovely tonight,” he commented as he held out her wrap. His dark blue eyes caressed her curves as assuredly as if he’d used his hands—she felt as if he had, at any rate.

  She knew she looked fabulous, in a flirty red chiffon dress with a plunging neckline and variegated hem. Timothy hated red. The outfit represented her bid for freedom.

  Jake’s visual assessment left her feeling almost naked. Naked except for her scarlet garter belt and matching thong and spike heels…

  She clenched her thighs, resisting the unbidden shiver of desire. Focus. She had to focus.

  She insisted they take the Mercedes, and he insisted he drive, and she let him. Better not to deviate too far from routine. On the way, she pondered how to ditch Jake. A former Navy SEAL—or was it Marine? She couldn’t remember—he had all the training and skills, and then some. Nothing escaped him.

  But she would have to.

  The Morelli’s had a string quartet; catering by one of Atlanta’s most exclusive restaurants; and a guest list that included two movie stars, three top athletes, and numerous politicians. Champagne flowed from an ice fountain. Catriona allowed herself one glass, for show.

  She mingled, exchanging platitudes and polite laughter, trying to lose herself in the crowd. But no matter where she went, Jake was always there, watching her. She didn’t even have to look around to know. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and unyielding.

  Kind of like how his cock would feel when…

  Stop. Just stop it. She had to keep her eyes on the prize.

  She licked lips suddenly gone dry, and out of the corner of her eye saw Jake stand a little straighter.

  Catriona glanced around. She didn’t see a threat, so Jake had to have been reacting to her. Oh, ho, is that so? Just to check, she trailed her fingers down the low neckline of her dress, along the visible curve of her breast.

  Jake coughed, shifted his stance. If she’d been closer, she strongly suspected she’d see a nice swelling in his pants.

  Aha. A new plan. She’d distract him, she decided. She’d flirt and tease, and when the blood was no longer in his brain, she’d slip away.

  She walked toward him with a deliberate sway in her hips, stood just a little too close. “I hate that you don’t get to have any fun. Can I get you a drink?”

  “I don’t drink when I’m on duty,” he said.

  “Something nonalcoholic, then.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was gritting his teeth. She glanced down. Excellent. Time to ramp it up a notch.

  “Whoops.” She dropped her little beaded handbag.

  They both went down to retrieve it. Rather than an accidental bumping of heads, though, she timed it so that Jake’s face essentially ended up in her cleavage.

  They both froze for a moment, so close she could feel his warm breath on her flesh. The sensation sent a tingle to her core.

  She shifted a little, giving him a clearer view down her dress, before slowly rising to her feet, deliberately and evocatively brushing against him as she did.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the purse from him. “Now, you really should get some water and cool down. I’m going to the ladies’ room, and you certainly can’t follow me there.”

  She felt him watching her as she sashayed off.

  Dammit. The bathroom window was too small to climb out of. She pursed her lips, considering her options.

  There was a parlor at the back of the house, with French doors opening onto a back patio. It was the only other option she could try that wouldn’t mean she’d have to cross the ball-room again, where Jake would see her.

  A few more minutes, and then she’d be free.

  The parlor was dark. She eased open the French door. Sultry night air caressed her face.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  She managed to stifle a shriek. “Oh, I—I was just getting some air.”

  Leather creaked as he reached up and clicked on a reading lamp. He was sitting in an armchair, one leg crossed over the other. Even though his eyes were in shadow, his piercing gaze made her shiver.

  “I don’t think so, Catriona.” His fingers drummed against the arm of the chair. “Tell me the truth.”

  Okay, time for Plan B. She didn’t really have a Plan B, so she improvised. She’d throw herself on his mercy….

  It wasn’t a great plan, but it was a plan.

  “Timothy’s cheating on me, so I’m leaving him,” she said. “Tonight. Will you help me?”

  He watched her, fingers still drumming, for interminable minutes. Finally, he said, “On one condition.”

  She assumed he meant money. “Name it.”

  He crooked his finger. “Come here.”

  Uh-oh. Mouth dry again, she stepped forward, stopping just before the chair.

  He watched her, silent and menacing and undeniably sexy.

  She knew what he wanted. She wanted to pretend he didn’t, just as she wanted to pretend her thighs weren’t weak and her heart wasn’t pounding and she’d never thought about this before when she thought about Jake and his strength and power.

  She wanted to deny how much she craved this. Her cheeks flushed as red as she guessed her ass would become, and the shiver of humiliation only made her grow slicker.

  Her breath hitched as she arranged herself across his lap, feeling his muscled thighs tighten as she settled on them.

  She hung her head, glad her hair hid her blushes when he drew up her skirt. She swore she could feel the heat of his gaze on her bare flesh. As much as she tried not to, she clenched against it.

  “How long have you been planning on leaving Timothy?” Jake asked.

  What? Confused, she said, “Th—three weeks.”

  “Twenty-one days. That’s twenty-one smacks.”

  Oh, god. No. She wanted to tell him she’d estimated, that it had been less time than that, but she was sure that would get her into far more trouble. Plus she could barely think, barely count, and there was no time, because she felt his body shift and his hand came down on her defenseless bottom.

  Her head reared up, but she caught her scream and muffled it into a breathy squeal just as the second slap landed. She couldn’t make noise or the other guests would hear. But how could they not hear the gunshot cracks?

  Pain flared with every spank, with barely enough time to fade, mutate into heat, before the next stinging blow. She told herself she wouldn’t cry, but he was relentless, hitting the same spots so the sharp hurt intensified.

  Her ass felt swollen, fiery hot, and so did her cleft. Her thong cut into her crotch, digging against her clit, which t
hrobbed and trembled the more he added to the pain.

  She tried to wriggle, but it added to her desperate arousal, and she knew that if she asked him to stop, he wouldn’t help her sneak out.

  Or, worse, he’d punish her even more.

  It was that thought that did her in.

  Catriona had no idea how close they’d gotten to twenty-one. If it was soon, then she might not…

  Oh, god, oh, god.

  The orgasm built and rolled through her and smashed into her just as Jake’s hand smashed down again, and she screamed into her fist, unable to stop the contractions or the sweet damned pain.

  She thought she heard him say “Oh, good girl,” and she bowed her head and swore she’d never look at him again, even as a final betraying tremor pulsed through her.

  Jake flipped her skirt back down, and even the flimsy chiffon felt heavy and rough against her puffy, tenderized cheeks. He helped her to her feet, steadying her when her weak legs threatened to give way. Confused, she turned to him, wondering if he wanted a blow job, but he shook his head and said, “We’d better get going.”

  Catriona turned for the French doors, but he took her arm.

  “Can’t go that way,” he said. “There’s a locked, alarmed gate on either side of the house, and an eight-foot fence in the back. We’ve got to go through the front.”

  If the humiliation of being soundly spanked by Jake and of coming to a sobbing orgasm from the spanking hadn’t been humiliation enough, now she had to parade through the party, sure that everyone knew her ass was the same glowing scarlet as her dress.

  At least he let her duck into the ladies’ room first to repair her makeup. But nothing could cover the flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes, and she didn’t have time to clean between her legs, so her wet thighs slipped and slid against each other and she could smell her pungent juices.

  Horrifyingly, all of it made her want to come again.

  “Catriona? Not leaving us so soon?” Angela Morelli appeared from nowhere.