Rub Me The Wrong Way (Erotic Shorts Book 2)

by Neal, Xavier

  “Miss Anderson, it's Sean Rogers.” Ah. The night security guard. “Your dinner delivery is here.”

  I smile to myself at Hope's thoughtfulness. “Send it up.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  Promptly I return back to my work, now reviewing the submissions that I should've gotten to earlier. There's a soft knock on my office door, but I don't look up to reply. “Come in. You can just leave it on the table.”

  “I'd prefer you on the table.”

  My head snaps up to see Klous dangling a picnic basket from his hands.

  “So let's make that happen.” Once again he doesn't wait for me to respond before pushing forward. Klous places the basket down beside the coffee table and rips off his shirt. A tiny whimper comes out of me as my pussy contracts, begging me to get up and do something about the offer. “Now.” I open my mouth to argue that I don't have time for this even though I wanna make time for it, which is when he drops his jeans, revealing his stiff cock. “Do not make me repeat myself. Get naked, Astin.”

  My pussy throbs at the tone in his voice. The command. The anticipation of being able to be free from making any further choices for just a brief moment is exactly what I want. More importantly, it's what I need. How he always delivers what I need when I need it is remarkable.

  I stand to my feet and walk around to the front of my desk, undoing my shirt on the way.

  Klous wets his lips, stroking his dick while he watches. “Slow.”

  Following his latest instructions, I slowly remove my black shirt and drop it to the floor. Next I unzip the side of my gray skirt before sliding it down my hips to leave me in my bra and thong.

  “Stop,” he demands approaching me. When his fingers stroke my nipple on the outside of my black bra, I moan as my eyes drift closed. “Eyes open, love.” Forcing them back open, I moan again at the feeling of his index finger dragging itself towards my hungry pussy. “Have you come without me?”

  “No.” To say that it has been a walk in the park would be the biggest fucking lie I've ever told.

  “Good girl.” His finger slips in the front of my thong to give my clit a gentle touch. I cry out softly, anxious for more. “Heels off too. Palms pressed down on the coffee table.”

  The moment his touch disappears, I kick off my shoes, remove the remainder of my clothing, and position myself as he requested.

  Klous lowers to his knees, gives my ass a hard hit and demands, “Open. Wide.”

  Spreading my legs further apart, I barely have a moment to catch my breath before his tongue assaults my pussy. On a loud moan, I shudder, his tongue having no mercy as it sucks the juices pouring out of me. Relentlessly his mouth desperately devours me, tearing an orgasm out of me before I have a chance to try to stall it.

  “I'm coming,” I cry as my pussy pulsates around his tongue, flooding his mouth with a flavor he enjoys by his hums of approval.

  Unexpectedly there's an invasion I don't recognize between my ass cheeks. It's slick, warm, and stretching my hole just shy of uncomfortable. Once it's wedged inside, Klous stands straight up and says, “Sit on my face.”

  I watch him stretch out on my office floor, hand rubbing his dick that I'm tired of waiting for already. Knowing better than to argue, knowing there's more pleasure when I don't, I stroll over and place a foot on each side of his body. The butt plug rubs me with every movement, which causes whimper after whimper to seep out of me.

  “Turn around, love. You have to eat something.”

  Another whine escapes me as I reposition myself. Carefully I lower my pussy to his face while swallowing his dick like it is what's for dinner. Like it's the only thing I've been craving. My tongue laps up the pre-cum that's leaking from him, the salty flavor feeding the starving monster inside. Klous groans while his tongue revives its previous task of erasing everything from my mind except for him. The two of us fall into a frenzied force of rocking, sucking, and consuming every drop the other leaks out. Feeling another orgasm on its way, my thighs clench around his face in an attempt to keep it in. Not ready to give it up yet. Not ready for this to end.

  Suddenly Klous' warm breath speaks against my pussy, “I need this from you, Astin. Give it to me.”

  His tongue returns to its duty dragging out of me the very thing he desires. Shutting my eyes tightly, I shudder in waves, coming again all over his face, clamping my mouth tightly around his dick in hopes he'll explode with me. Instead he licks me clean and uses my hair to tug me off his cock. Immediately he pushes my body downward, indicating for my pussy to replace my mouth. I spread my legs, moaning through every motion as the butt plug moves inside, teasing another sensation that makes me wanna come again.

  Lowering myself onto his cock, I have to hold back my own cries to enjoy his. “Fuck, Astin.” He repeats again, “Fuck...Astin...”

  I lean forward slowly rising and falling on his dick, each stroke better than the last. My pussy, which seems determined to absorb him whole, quivers around his cock. It feels so good. Too good. Insanely too good. The reality of what we've done hits swiftly.

  As if reading my mind, his hands strokes my back and states, “I'm clean.” Before I can argue he makes a command, “Ride me, Astin. Come on my cock, love.”

  Already past the point of no return, I start rocking on his dick. With every sway, it feels like I could shatter apart. The way his dick is diving inside, it feels like it's on a mission to meet the butt plug on the other side, splitting me apart in the process. Klous' hands massage my ass, pushing me to the brink each time he tugs at the toy.

  On a deep growl he says, “You ready to come?”

  “Yes please,” I plead unsure how much more I can take.

  Klous slowly removes the butt plug. A sharp surge of passion shreds me to pieces. The entire time I'm screaming his name at the top of my lungs.

  “Mine...” his voice roars, two hands keeping me firmly in place. “All mine...”

  A handful of harsh pumps later, Klous lets go inside of me, finally giving me the satiated feeling I've been dying for. The warm fluid floods more than just my thirsty pussy. It burns its way to the one place I feared it would. My heart.

  I pull myself off of him, intending to get dressed, when he pulls me beside him instead. Exhausted my head falls on his heaving chest, loving the fact that fucking me takes just as much out of him as it does me.

  Klous runs his fingertips down my back. “Astin, I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I stroke his abs in return. “What's that?”

  “I lost my job today.”

  The words force me to sit up. “You...what?! What?! Why? How?”

  “Jackie told management she had suspicions I was behaving unethically with a client.”

  “Who the fuck is Jackie?”

  “Front desk girl.”

  Snow White. Knew she was secretly a bitch.

  “And when they approached me about it, I told them I was in a romantic relationship with you.”

  That's a little much. I think. Maybe. Maybe we are in some sort of weird relationship.

  “I broke one of the top rules of Le Mur and was asked to leave quietly.”

  “What if you would've just denied it?”

  “And they found out that I was indeed sleeping with you? They could've filed a sexual harassment suit and fired me.” Klous sits up, back resting on his palms. “I wasn't willing to take the chance of something like that hurting you or your reputation.”

  A soft look comes across my face and I quickly give him a long, slow kiss. Our tongues roll around very softly before he ends it.

  In a whisper he says, “I gave up my job for you, Astin. So I need to know, when I told them I was in a relationship with you, was I lying?”

  The question is more than fair and deserves an answer I'm not sure I can bring myself to give him.

  * Klous and Astin will return in one final short: Rub Me All The Way *

  Thank You's

  Crazy Lady- No that's not what real massag
es are like.

  Her Husband- Your daughter is doing the best she can every day.

  The Law Student- You'll probably never read this, but here you are. On the thank yous, where you belong.

  Sissy B- Refer to Crazy Lady's note. I do NOT know massage therapists like this.

  Katniss- If you don't blush a little when you see me...I'm gonna be sad...lol

  The PAs- Both of you love to hate me, and I love you so much for it. Please rock on.

  The EP Army- You are a rock solid group of women. Stay amazing.

  Dream Team- You ladies are simply incredible.

  Special shout to Dona F- Thanks for the extra love you deliver to Klous babe. You are a wonderful individual to have in my life.

  Krystin “Genie” S.- You have a dose of magic no one else can ever compete with. Remember that.

  Bloggers- Keep making this beautiful world go round.

  Readers- If you will keep having me, I'll keep showing up. And if you stop...I'll probably bang on your door in the rain 'til you let me in, lol

  Until Next Time...

  Like sexy reads try Vodka Dreams by Angie Merriam.

  Vodka Dreams sample

  Chapter One

  I'm not sure where I am. The room is pitch black but warm. I've discovered that my hands and feet are bound to what must be a four poster bed. Not my bed. My own bed is the front seat of my car or a stranger’s couch, not a piece of shit like the one I'm laying on. My brain filters through my memories, trying to recapture the one before I woke up bound to a strange bed in a dark room. I can't see an inch in front of my face, not even outlines of furniture but I can smell, hear and feel.

  I feel sticky, sweaty. I'm wearing a thin nightgown and no bra or panties. My exposed skin is wet with sweat, and I can smell myself, telling me I've been there longer than a day or two. I also smell the faint scent of wood and musk. Must be in an older home, I decided. I listen and hear my own breathing, labored but not distressed. I hear footsteps outside of the room like a distant thumping in my head. The sheets I'm laying on are made of silk and smooth my warm skin.

  Again, my mind reels. I think about screaming but decide against it. I'm not sure I'm ready to meet my captor yet. A few times the thumping sound of footsteps beats louder in my ear and I tense, prepared to meet my captor, but the door has yet to open. Suddenly, I see myself sitting in a bar. It's a dingy bar. Those are the kind I like. Dirty. Scummy. It makes me feel a little better about myself and the things I do if I surround myself with trash. It's a problem I'd developed lately and wasn't sure how to fix it.

  I was waiting to meet a man, while shooting vodka and sipping whiskey and Diet Coke. I'd met this one on Facebook. Probably not one of my smartest moves. I was sure the man in the profile photo was not the man I was meeting, yet I agreed to meet him anyway. It seemed exciting, and I was quite the thrill seeker these days. I probably should be dead. I'm not really surprised to find myself in my current situation. I'd been tempting fate frequently. I don't remember meeting the man though. Last thing I remember was growing angry with the bartender. My drink was empty and he'd disappeared. I felt a hand on my back then my memory fades.

  I'd been shaking Satan’s hand a lot lately. Was this him welcoming me to Hell or was this God's punishment for my sins? Did I care either way? Probably not. I wondered if anyone was looking for me? Missing me? Again, probably not. It was my own doing though. I’d taken to disappearing a lot the last year. It started with just a night or two. I had to get away from him. My husband. The biggest fucking asshole I ever had the displeasure of knowing yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. The thought was terrifying. Being alone never appealed to me.

  My drinking began long before anyone caught on to what I was doing. I am the great pretender. I can handle my shit and pull off “sober” at a moment’s notice, at least I thought I could. But the alcohol consumption increased more and more until I, myself, couldn’t decipher if I was drunk or sober so there was no acting. I was in a constant state of inebriation. Shit went downhill from there.

  My husband grew meaner, more violent, and I drank more, all the while our son got a front row seat to our dark dysfunction. He’d threatened to kill me, and I believed him, so I started not coming home. One day, after I’d been gone for two days, I came home to an empty house. I knew the day was coming but the paralyzing fear I had about being alone was almost more than I could take. I drank to numb the nerves. As time went on I saw my husband here and there when he’d have a fight with his girlfriend of the week, but he refused to let me see our son. I know in the back of my mind, somewhere floating in the vodka haze that I needed to be with him, to get him, but I was drowning. The longer I stayed away from him the more I tried to disappear from everything. Even the bitch outs from my sister had ceased in the last few months. So no, no one would be looking for me.

  I pushed thoughts away of my life, my son, and my family. I was sober, which allowed my mind to think and my heart to hurt. I didn’t like it. I needed a drink. I was shaking and wasn’t sure if it was from fear or withdrawals. Probably both. I closed my eyes and tried to push any thoughts out of my brain. Tried to force sleep. It wasn’t working. Guess it was time to meet my captor. “Heeeyyyy!! Let me the fuck out of here!” I screamed over and over until my throat was dry and I couldn’t scream any more. Finally, I heard the footsteps right outside my door just before I heard the jingling of keys and the doorknob. My captor slowly pushed the door open and I heard him step inside.

  I determined the floor was wooden by the creaking I heard when he stepped inside. A small amount of light penetrated the dark but not enough for me to see anything more than shapes. He entered the room then turned to close the door before hitting a light switch that turned on a dim light that assaulted my eyes. My captor didn’t come to me though. He stood just out of my sight, silently.

  “Where am I?” I asked quietly, my throat sore from screaming and lack of water.

  “My house,” he replied firmly. His voice was deep and slightly gravelly but soothing for some reason.

  “Who are you?” I tried.

  “I’m your savior,” he replied quietly.

  “My savior?” I laughed a little. “What makes you think I need a savior?”

  “Trust me, you need one and I am the man to save you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are a mess. You’re broken. I think I can help you.”

  “What could you possibly do to help me and why would you want to?”

  “That’s enough questions for now.”

  “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “No, not in the ways that you’re thinking.” His response stunned me a little, and I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing.

  “You’ve been here a few days and I’m sure you’d like a bath. Would you like a bath, Lucy?” I did want a bath, badly. I wanted to stand up. To feel my legs beneath me. I wanted to see his face. I should have been afraid but I wasn’t. His voice was too soothing to be afraid.

  “Yes, please,” I responded shyly.

  “Okay, but there are some rules?”

  “Okay.”

  “You can’t scream or try to escape. I will stay in the bathroom with you the entire time. Do not scream or try to run, I am bigger and faster than you and we’re in the middle of nowhere so screaming will only irritate me and hurt your voice. Clear?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Very good then,” he said and walked toward me, coming into view, taking my breath away. He was fucking beautiful. He’d always been beautiful to me. “Dallas?”

  “Hi, Lucy. Come on, let’s get your hands untied, shall we?” He leaned over me and started to loosen the ropes. My mind was reeling. Why the hell was Dallas Foster holding me hostage?

  I first met Dallas a few years ago, at work, just before my life spiraled out of control. He was a customer in the restaurant I waited tables at. For almost six months, five days a week, he came in every day that I worked and sat in my statio
n, ordering the same thing. After the six months were up, he came in less frequently until I didn’t see him at all. I was fired for being drunk on the job a year ago, so I don’t know if he’d been back in but I hadn’t seen him in over a year.

  All the girls were envious that he always requested me as his waitress. I was married at the time, so I kept my flirting to a minimum, but he was attractive and always made my heart flutter and my panties melt. I knew he was in sales but didn’t know exactly what that meant and didn’t ask. He wasn’t married and didn’t have kids. He traveled a lot and was in town on business, at least that’s what he told me. When he started coming in less than not at all, I assumed he had moved on for business. Why the hell was I tied up in his house?

  “There. Better?” He asked as my hands fell from the bedpost and my ankles were set free. “Yes, thank you,” I replied trying to sit up but my head protested. I was dizzy and nauseous.

  “Whoa, slow down, Lucy. Let me help you,” he insisted and had me in his arms before I could protest, carrying me out of my prison. He led me down a dark hallway and into a bathroom. He used his elbow to flip the light switch which turned on a plethora of bright white lights nearly blinding me. I closed my eyes and held them tightly shut, burying my head in his chest.