by Cara Bristol
“Oh!” Abby jerked.
The spank had been light—even in her inexperience she could tell that—but a jolt of pure electricity skipped through her.
With the same lack of force, he struck the other cheek. Abby sucked in a breath. This is it. Oh god. Oh god. Her pulse raced with anticipation. Her pussy let down a surge of moisture.
Thwack! A swat kissed her behind. Another. Then two more.
“Okay?” he asked.
Abby wiggled. “Don’t stop.”
Light strokes firmed as he peppered her cheeks. She arched under the stingy blows, trying to avoid them, yet enjoying each one. When one particularly sharp slap seared her behind, her hands flew to protect her ass from bombardment.
“None of that, Abby,” he scolded.
She loved his stern commanding tone and the strength enabling him to capture both her wrists in one hand and secure them against her back. The secret thrill of lying ass-up over a man’s lap and being spanked filled her with rapture. How wicked. How naughty.
“Sweet girl,” he praised her in a hoarse tone.
His room filled with sharp cracks, her moans and his masculine rumbles of praise.
Over and over, his hand came down, delivering the sweet, searing kisses. Just when pain began to edge out the pleasure, he stopped, and slipped his fingers between her thighs. His growl of satisfaction confirmed she was soaked. Harris stroked her folds, her clit, and penetrated her needy pussy. She raised her hips to take him deeper.
“Oh god, please, Harris,” she moaned when he withdrew and proceeded to tease her clit. She bucked, trying to rub against his finger.
He dragged her off his lap and into a sitting position. He yanked on the bows that kept the spaghetti straps of her dress together, and pulled the garment over her head. Slipping off the sofa, he sank to his knees.
Abby’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart beat a fast rhythm accompanied by a throb in her ass cheeks.
How a man with such cute dimples could appear so rakish when he smiled, she couldn’t fathom, but he flashed another wicked grin and lifted her legs over his shoulders. Inside, Abby squirmed with bashfulness, but then he lowered his head and covered her pussy with his mouth and a wanton desire coursed through her.
Her head fell back, and her eyes closed in surrender to the sensation.
“No.” Harris lifted his mouth so that only his breath touched her. “Look at me.”
Abby forced herself to focus. His molten gaze locked on hers. He dipped his chin and licked her clit. He eased a finger, then a second, into her channel and pumped. She enjoyed oral sex, receiving and giving. Watching Harris do it and having him watch her watch him do it drove her over the top. Every lick burned like a kiss from a candle flame.
She could read his emotions in his eyes, the teasing, the lust, his approval. Damn, but she wanted to please this man.
Abby tried to keep her eyes open, but she was so fucking turned on, her orgasm exploded without warning. Her eyes shuttered so tight she saw stars.
* * * *
How fierce and beautiful she was in ecstasy. He almost wished he could claim her for the long term. But after witnessing the repeated debacles of his parents’ multiple failed marriages, Harris had learned forever was a fantasy, but Abby tempted him. Oh, how she tempted him.
She’d flung her head back and thrashed against his face with such force he would not have been surprised if she’d broken his nose. He loved how she abandoned herself to pleasure, surrendered to it, and most all, trusted him. He’d predicted correctly her pale skin would blush like a rose. With the first swat, a mere tap, she’d colored pink. The flush faded as quickly as it had bloomed, but when he laid several more slaps upon her, she maintained her color. Her entire ass glowed an even hue.
And didn’t it make his balls blue.
He’d sensed her withdrawal in the parking garage and guessed she was getting cold feet. He’d backed off to give her the space she needed, to ensure her comfort. He’d learned in poker to bide his time. He ached like a motherfucker, but her pleasure was worth his discomfort. And what a payoff.
Her pussy had contracted around his fingers, and she had thrust her sex against his mouth. She jabbed his back with the heels of her sandals. He waited until the shudders subsided then withdrew his fingers.
As if emerging from a trance, Abby shook her head. He laid an intimate lip lock on her, letting her taste herself on his lips. She did not resist the kiss but moaned and sucked his tongue deeper.
From her mouth, he moved to her tits. Her stiff pink nipples begged for his attention. How could he resist such an enchanting plea? While palming one, he sucked the other. She combed her fingers in his hair, and arched her back, offering herself.
Fuck, she made him want.
He licked and sucked both tits until her nipples grew stone hard and red. Gorgeous. Pulling back, he drank in the sight before surrendering to another addictive taste. By the time he lifted his head, both of them were breathing like they’d run a race.
“Sexy Abby,” he whispered. “Feel what you do to me.” Harris placed her hand on his crotch. She gripped his bulge and stroked the length with firm pressure. Pleasure sang in his blood.
“Let’s go to bedroom,” he said.
“Okay.” She tugged at his belt buckle. It resisted her efforts at first, but caved to her insistence.
“Sorry about your pants,” she said.
Huh? He followed her gaze to the large stain on one thigh and partially on other. He grinned. He’d felt her desire wetting his leg when he’d spanked her. Her arousal had heightened the sexual need spanking her had stirred. “Maybe I should discipline you for that,” he teased.
“Maybe you should.” She lowered her lashes and his zipper at the same time. Heat surged. He liked her femininity, her shyness, but loved the flashes of femme fatale that winked in and out. She skirted her small hand under the waistband of his jockeys and captured his cock. Mother of god! Harris sucked in a gasp of pleasure.
She stroked and squeezed, escalating his hunger. He needed to move them to the other room before he embarrassed himself. She gave a little cry when he stood and yanked her to her feet in one motion. “Bedroom. That way.” He pointed toward the corridor. “To the right.” He smacked her cherry ass to hasten her along.
With the cutest squeal she scampered for the hall, her hair flouncing in a wild tangle over her shoulders, her rosy bottom wiggling. A growl of need erupted in his throat. He couldn’t wait to spank her again, test drive the bench, employ some of those vintage spanking implements.
Harris glanced at the apparatus. Next time.
Abby disappeared around the corner, and Harris caught up with her and hustled her into his bedroom. “I wasn’t sure if you intended to join me or not,” she joked.
“Oh I intend to join you,” he said, and divested himself of his clothing.
Abby’s gaze riveted on his cock. Her eyes widened for a moment, and her lips curved into a smile. “Very impressive,” she said, and drew her finger along the underside of his erection from his balls to his cockhead. Scraped with her fingernail.
Stupid, but her comment pleased him. Not so stupid, but so did her touch. She swirled her thumb over the head, spreading the precum. Then she bent and took him into her mouth.
A bolt of pure electricity shot through him. “Fuck, Abby!”
It wasn’t her thumb, but her tongue this time that swiped over the glans, painting his cock with liquid heat. Then her cheeks hollowed, and she sucked him deep as if trying to pull the cum from his body.
Hair hid her face, but in the mirrored closet doors he could view a bigger picture—her bowing over his groin, her backside scarlet, her sex pink and glistening.
Pressure built. “Lie down,” he ordered hoarsely. Fuck, his goddamn legs shook. He pushed her away and yanked back the covers. While she crawled onto his king bed, he grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and rolled it on.
The mattress bounced as he flung himself nex
t to her. He plundered her mouth before kissing his way down her body. Using his mouth and fingers, he brought her to the brink of orgasm, and hauled her to her knees. She rested on her elbows so her nipples brushed the mattress, and raised her glowing ass high. He growled and smacked her cheek. She squealed. Lifted her butt even higher.
Did she have any idea how provocative her behavior was? He slapped the other side, reveling in the crack, the sting, her moan. He delivered a quick volley of smacks to deepen her blush. Nothing could be as sexy as her poised, wet and ready for him. Palms tingling, he grabbed his cock and rubbed the tip against her wet opening, pushing inside. Sweet bliss.
He sucked in a hiss of air through his teeth as sensation shot from his groin throughout his body. The urge to thrust pounded in his blood, but he held himself immobile afraid the pleasure would undermine his control. For her and for him, he preferred to draw out their passion. Have her come one more time while he fucked her. He wanted her tight, muscled pussy to convulse around him.
Gritting his teeth, he eased back then drove forward. Fuck. So good. Once more. Fuck. “Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Rub your clit.”
Abby leaned on one shoulder and reached between her legs. As her fingers circled over the nub of flesh, she brushed his cock and he almost lost it then. Hurry, sweetheart.
He swiveled his pelvis as he thrust, control slipping despite his firm grip on her hips that left white impressions in her reddened flesh. So acute the sensation, he could have been riding bareback. As he fucked her, he focused on her snugness, her glistening pink wetness. In the mirror he caught sight of her face, contorted with impending ecstasy.
“Harris, Harris,” she cried, hips bucking, her fingers flying. Her channel convulsed in ripples. She came, and he followed, bellowing her name in a shudder of rapture.
Panting, he stared at their joined bodies, disoriented by the swirl of pleasure. Gripping the condom, he pulled out. “Be right back,” he said. He padded to the bathroom to dispose of the rubber.
When he returned, Abby had sprawled across the bed. She lifted her face from the pillow at his approach, then ducked her head. Shy. Tenderness fluttered in his chest. He guessed her ex-husband had been her first and only, and in a possessive way, her inexperience pleased him. He and he alone had introduced her to the intimacies and joys of spanking. And he had so much more to teach her.
He knelt on the bed, and nudged her thighs. “Spread your legs.” She eyed the washcloth in his hand, and a hint of pink crept across her cheeks. “I can do that,” she protested huskily.
“Or you can let me,” he replied in a stern tone, stifling an amused chuckle. She’d sucked his cock and let him spank her, eat her and fuck her, but to have him wipe away the residue of her desire and condom lube caused a bout of shyness.
She muttered something that sounded like “bossy,” but spread her legs, and Harris blotted her flesh with the wet cloth.
“Is my ass very red?”
“Beautifully,” he answered. “Do you want to see?” He motioned toward the mirror. She should look so he could calm any fears she might have. When she was more comfortable with spanking, he would take pictures of her rosy ass.
“Yes, I would.” She sat up, and winced as her bottom connected with the bed. “My butt is tingly. With like a deeper ache. But… pleasant somehow.”
“You might be sore tomorrow,” he warned. He offered her the hand mirror he’d brought into the bedroom. She knelt on the bed and turned her back to the large mirror on the closet, then held up the hand one to examine her backside.
“Oh my gosh!” she gasped.
Like targets, dark spots marked the centers, the intensity of the hue decreasing from red to pink around the perimeter.
She pinched and rubbed, watching the color wax and wane. “How long will the redness last?”
“It might be gone tomorrow morning.”
“So soon?” Her face fell with disappointment. She peered into the mirror and kneaded her ass again.
Harris chuckled. He couldn’t have asked for a better response. He and Abby would have so much fun. He couldn’t wait to test her, find her tolerances, and introduce her to more rigorous spanking pleasures. He grazed her nose with a kiss. “Don’t worry. You’ll be rosy more often than not.”
Chapter Five
How’s your ass? Harris’s text had chimed early the next morning. Abby had insisted he take her home after their sexual and spanking exploits, fearing her aunt would wait up for her. Aunt Quincy had left a light burning, but had retired when Abby tiptoed in at 1 a.m., leaving her to wish she’d spent the night at Harris’s.
After reading the text, she leaped out of bed, and yanked down her PJs in front of the tall standing mirror. Her ass was as pale as the moon itself. She gawked, astounded at how the color had faded. She rubbed her butt, but felt only the slightest tingle. She yanked up her PJs and grabbed her phone.
Back to normal. I was hoping for a souvenir, she texted.
I could get you a T-shirt. ‘My ass has been spanked.’
LOL. I’d rather you spank me again.
I’d rather do that too.
Abby tightened her butt cheeks, recalling the sharpness, the burn, the ache. And the intimacy of placing herself in his hands. Excitement and remnants of embarrassment heated her body, drawing her attention to the morning chill. She scurried back under the covers, pulling the patchwork quilt up to her chest. She clutched her phone. Was Harris in bed like she was? Or getting ready to start his day? Auntie Q’s didn’t open until ten so she had time to laze.
I enjoyed last night, Abby thumbed a reply.
I did too. I want to see you again.
Her heart could have floated out of her chest until reality punctured her soaring hopes. A man like Harris dated lots of women. Don’t read too much into it. Keep it light. I figured you’d want to claim the macaroni and cheese.
Absolutely. But I was thinking sooner. Unless you planned to cook mac and cheese for lunch today.
Abby nibbled on her bottom lip. Aunt Quincy had always said men needed ‘encouragement.’ But being too available couldn’t be good either.
I could cook for you Friday eve. She wouldn’t have to go to work the following morning, which would leave the entire night open to possibilities.
It’s a date. His text came through immediately, and regret settled on her chest. She’d outsmarted herself. Why had she attempted to play it cool when he’d already heated her ass? Now she had to wait five days to see him. Abby wished she had more experience dating. More? Try some. Her list of former lovers contained one name. Dale. Not even enough for a list.
Her phone chimed. Now, how about lunch today. Are you free?
Giddy now, she typed, Of course. What did you have in mind?
Meet me at Wash and Go at noon.
You serve food there?
Sure, chips and cheese and crackers in the vending machine.
My favorite food.
* * * *
In one of the back rooms of the shop, Abby hummed as she whisked a feathered microfiber duster over the tchotchkes and the shelves that held them. With a jangle, a bell signaled a shopper’s arrival, but she ignored it and flicked at a vintage cookie jar. Aunt Quincy manned the front; she’d deal with the customer.
But when her aunt spoke, her tone lacked her usual friendliness. “Oh it’s you,” she said. A man’s voice rumbled, too low to decipher the words, even though Abby tucked her hair behind her ear to hear better. Eavesdropping. Shameless to be sure.
“In the back.” Aunt Quincy sounded peeved.
Abby dusted over and around a collection of vintage cologne bottles and jars. Astounding the stuff people hung on to. But good for business. One person’s junk was another’s treasure.
“Abby.”
She jerked at the unexpected, but so familiar voice. A perfume jar shattered on the floor. She pressed her lips together to regain her balance. She spun around. “Dale. What brings you here?” She spied a broom an
d a long-handled dustpan in the corner.
“I came to see you.”
“Well, here I am.” Abby would give no quarter. She’d had none left to give. Dale had blown through every last dime and then some. She pretended to be absorbed with sweeping up the shards.
“I came to talk to you.”
“So talk.” She shrugged.
“Would you look at me, please?”
She kept her head averted while she emptied the dustpan into a nearby trash bin. Then, she planted her hands on her hips and focused on his face. He’d shaved and gotten a haircut, judging from the shortness of his sandy blond hair. The grooves of anxiety she’d have sworn had been etched between his brows and alongside his mouth had faded, erasing years from his face. He resembled the Dale she’d fallen in love with back in high school. But a quick scan of her emotions revealed annoyance at his intrusion. Her new life had no place for him. “What is it?”
He hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans, the denim stiff and dark blue. New. “I’ve, uh, got a job now.”
“Good.” He’d lost several because he’d taken too much time off to gamble in pursuit of the elusive big money. She’d believed him when he said business had slowed, or his department had been eliminated, a jealous co-worker had sabotaged his project. Did not question when he left the house each day for a job that no longer existed. “Doing what?” she asked out of habit. She didn’t care.
He glanced at his feet. New sneakers, too. Store brand. “Moving furniture.” He grimaced. “Four Dudes and a Truck. That’s the name of the company. There’s ten employees and three trucks, but four guys founded the company.” He paused. “And I deliver pizza at night.”
Dale shoved his hands into his pockets. “It doesn’t sound like much. But I’m trying to get back on my feet. I’m working two jobs, so I can save up to buy back your house.”
Abby shook her head. “It’s gone, Dale. I appreciate you trying to make it right, but some things can’t be undone.” Hadn’t that always been his problem—his belief in the pie in the sky? His assumption he could buy back her house because he desired it was as unrealistic as believing he would strike it rich playing poker. Or craps. Or betting on the horse races.