No White Knight

by Angel Payne

  “You are so full of shit, clown.”

  “Place your bets, sassy.”

  Fuck, yes. I had her, hook, line, and sinker now. Her accelerated breathing, audible over the line, already gave her away—and swirled its way straight to the space between my thighs.

  “Well? What’s it going to be, Taylor? Name it, and it’s yours if I personally can’t deliver.” But I was damn confident I could—because now, I was so fucking sure of what she needed.

  “Think you’re that good?” she blurted.

  I hissed, letting her hear every note of my brazen confidence. “Yeah. I do.”

  “Okay, so let’s do this.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I growled it with gravelly seduction.

  “Whoever gets off first loses. And no lying or faking. Deal?”

  “No.”

  “Huh?”

  “No deal yet.” I let my wolfish smile permeate my tone. “Any smart betting man knows the stakes first.”

  “Hmmm. Maybe you are sharp enough to be a brain surgeon.”

  “Sassy?” I prodded, hearing her coy attempt at the stall. “The stakes?”

  “Okay.” Her confidence came roaring back, erasing my smirk for a second, until she answered, “If you lose, I get a ride, on a real racetrack, with you at the wheel.”

  I almost expected her to finish with electronic trumpets or something. Her voice was such a flourish she obviously thought she had a deal breaker. Sweet, clueless woman. She had no idea I’d love nothing more than to show her what it was like to test the limits of a vehicle built for speed…to defy the laws of physics…

  “A hot lap?” I drawled. “Done.”

  “Wait. Huh? What’s a hot lap? I just want a ride. I said a ride.”

  I gave her a thick thunder-bank laugh. “Adrenaline is the body’s finest natural aphrodisiac, love.” I leaned forward, again knowing she’d sense my advance more than see it. “And I guarantee you’ll want to fuck me even more afterward.”

  I listened to her swallow. “But…but only if you lose.”

  “Sure,” I returned, without a shred of sincerity. “Whatever you say, missy.”

  “So…uhhhh…what if you win?” Her voice had started to roughen as well. The sensual stakes weren’t lost on her, and I sure as fuck wasn’t complaining. Between her sexy breaks in breathing and the mention of high-performance racing vehicles, my body was like an engine getting warmed at the starting line. All I needed now was the green flag…

  “If I win, I want a date to Oktoberfest. Three hours minimum. Skirt required. Panties prohibited.”

  “Done.” She chuckled with smug delight, as if she thought she had this shit in the bag.

  “Wait!” I blurted back.

  “What?” She acted impatient, as if my interrupting was an annoyance.

  “I have one more condition.”

  “Dear God.” I could practically see her eye roll from here.

  “We do this on FaceTime.”

  “What?”

  “We do this on FaceTime,” I repeated. “Give me a second to go get my laptop, and then call me on FaceTime.”

  I was curious about her brazen boldness now.

  To my pleasant shock, she responded with a hearty giggle. “Such a kinky clown.”

  “You know it.”

  “Fine,” she acquiesced, her tone turning silky. “FaceTime.”

  I couldn’t set up my machine fast enough.

  The whole time, blood raced through my veins and pooled in my dick. It throbbed and swelled and pounded at the zipper of my jeans, screaming to be let loose.

  Easy boy. We have a bet to win.

  And damn it, I wanted to win. I mean, either way this thing fell, I’d won—she was getting that hot lap no matter what—but it was the whole principle of this. Her challenge, my victory. The mind-fuck of it was epic. More than that, I hated losing—at anything. It was a personality defect. I just had to remember that no matter what happened, I came out of this a winner.

  My screen came to life. My very own goddess filled the rectangle from one edge to the other. She was so close to the camera, all I could see was her face, but that was enough for the moment. Christ, she was…breathtaking. She was still dressed in some sort of blouse, probably her outfit from work, but I could barely make out the color because the lights were so dim in her apartment.

  “Fuck…you’re stunning. As usual.” My voice was unintentionally soft. Or maybe intentionally. It wasn’t as though anyone else was around. Something about her made me want to be gentle and careful, until the point that she made me mindless with lust. This female had me chasing my own tail, and I was gladly dizzy from it.

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you have phone sex with.”

  She issued that with a shy smile, but I wasn’t buying the bashfulness.

  “Is that what you call this?” Or maybe I could believe her new timidity. Crazily, I was stricken with it too. Strange. Really strange.

  “Do you have a better name for it?”

  “Guess not.” I laughed, a hoarse sound because my throat was so dry from need. I was in deep shit here. Deep, inescapable shit. I could still remember the taste of her pussy on my tongue, the smell of her come in my nose. I wanted to be buried in her heat more than anything right now. “And for the record, I’ve never done something like this with anyone else.”

  Her face became an adorable quirk. “Weirdly, I believe you.”

  “Oddly, I’m glad.” After we relieved the tension by a notch with mutual laughs, I continued, “But now you know why I was being the cavalier clown with my wager.”

  “Uh-oh. Is the master doubting himself?” She leaned back a little and began unbuttoning her blouse. Very slowly, one small button at a time.

  My mouth turned the texture of the California desert.

  “The master, huh?” My words felt like fire—appropriate, since she’d stoked exactly that inside me.

  “Don’t let it go to your head.” She parted the material at her bra, letting me have a glimpse of the white lace cups that had the very enviable job of holding her breasts.

  “Fuck,” I rasped, now sounding like I’d come down with strep.

  “See something you like, Doctor?”

  “Pull your shirt down over your shoulders, love.”

  She did what I asked but gave me hell while doing so. “I told you to stop calling me that.” Did she know how her impertinence turned me on? She had to. I was gaping now. Fixated on every one of her seductress moves, on every teasing breath from her pouting lips…on the telltale undulations of her body, betraying how she ached to get relief too…

  “I’ll worry about it more when you’re in a position to do something about it. How does that sound?”

  “Depends on how you define doing something.”

  She flushed while saying it, giving up a bit of the lead to me—and she knew it too. Her mouth trembled.

  The edges of mine curved up. “Do you remember where I bit you?”

  No more shaking lips. She pressed those plush surfaces together, jogging out a little nod. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Touch it now, Taylor,” I growled. “Show me the spot.”

  Her fingers went right to the spot as though it were tattooed atop her shoulder. At the same time, she looked directly into the camera and then slowly closed her eyes. She opened her mouth just a bit as she inhaled through her parted lips.

  “Mac.” Her voice was nothing but a feather. A moistened, needy wisp.

  “I know, baby,” I encouraged in a soft snarl. “You need new marks. And I need to give them to you.”

  She didn’t respond in words. Just let me see her small nod. Sweet little doll. Southern little lady. She still wasn’t ready to admit how much she’d enjoyed the pain I’d given…but one day, fuck me, we would get there.

  “Pull your bra down now, Taylor. All the way, so I can see your gorgeous tits…your incredible, hard nipples. Good girl,” I praised when she pinched her nippl
es without my suggestion. The points stood on end, pushing up so red and taut. She ran her fingers over the tips, her breaths getting faster with every repeat.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes,” she husked. “But it feels better when you do it. Even better when it’s your mouth.” She was preparing to say something else when her eyes popped open, something taking her attention away from her arousal. “Hey!”

  “What?” I queried.

  “You’re not playing fair.”

  “Why do you say that?” I was truly confused.

  “You’re not touching yourself, clown. You still have all your clothes on. You’re just telling me to do stuff.” She raised one perfect eyebrow in speculation. “I’m on to you now, Stone.”

  I whipped my dark-green T-shirt over my head and then threw it over my shoulder. “Better?”

  She leaned in, inadvertently showing off the deeper valley of her cleavage. “God, yes. You are so gorgeous, Mac.”

  I let out a pleased hum. “I like it when you say my name. My actual name.”

  “Yeah? Well, don’t get too used to it.” She flashed her sassiest grin, the one that frustrated me more than the words themselves, because now I saw right through her game.

  “I know. I know.” I scrubbed my hand through my hair. She was always so worried about re-erecting her walls…about protecting herself. “I’m not going to hurt you, Taylor.”

  She paused for a second, gave her head a barely visible shake, and then easily—too easily—slid her sarcastic mask back into place. “So…I was about to see your amazing dick, was I not?”

  I sighed, using it as a mask of my own. On the outside, it was an aroused growl-huff thing. On the inside, it was concern about her continued façade—even what she chose to show me. Even after I’d told her, time and time again, that in the space of us, she was safe. But she still didn’t get it, making it necessary for me to play along for now. Eventually, I’d have her where I needed her. Where she needed to be. In a place where she could trust me with her emotional wellbeing as well as her sexual satisfaction. It was just going to take a while. The more fragile the glass, the tougher it was to move a vase.

  “Your wish is very much my command, m’lady.”

  “Oooo la la,” she teased while I stood and opened the button on my jeans. Without hesitation, I slid the zipper down and then spread the material open for her to see the deep muscled vee of my lower abdomen.

  “Ohhhh…my,” she sighed, giving me a perfect soundtrack for reaching into my boxers and coming back out with my erect cock in hand. I stroked it, reveling in the heavy flesh in my fist, letting my balls surge out on their own, weighing down the material of my underwear.

  “Jesus…Christ.”

  “He’s got nothing on me, baby.” Two could play at the swagger game.

  “That’s what all the boys say.”

  “I’m not a boy, Taylor. I think I’ve proved that. A few times, actually.” I fisted myself tighter, a blatant reminder of the pleasure I’d given her the night we were together. The best night of my goddamn life.

  Her sharp exhale sounded over her computer microphone. “Yes, Sir,” she cheeped out, her voice quivering.

  “Do you still have your panties on? And if so, why?” I sat back down so I could watch her undress—and enjoy the hell out of it.

  “I was just wondering the same thing, actually.”

  It was her turn to stand up. All I could see on her cam now was the area from just below her tits to just below her pussy, which sadly was still covered by a gray pencil skirt. But not for long, thank God. I watched, licking my lips and working my dick, as she reached back and unzipped the skirt. She wiggled her hips in order to peel the garment away, and then everything in my view was her silky skin, glowing with translucent splendor in the dim light of her living room.

  “My God, woman. Your skin…” She was responsible for permanently smashing incredible with epidermis in my figurative book. She was so pale as to be transparent, the veneer like nothing more than haze and, in the right light, I could trace the map of her veins and arteries right through it. The tracing paper fascinated me as a surgeon and as a man. That was her life, thriving just beneath the surface…

  My cock jerked in my hand. A drop of come leaked from the tip. I spread the milky liquid down the shaft and closed my eyes for a second, battling for fresh control—but when I looked at her again, she’d slid her hand beneath the waistband of her panties. Had reached inside the chaste covering to rub herself in the sexiest way…

  I was mesmerized. How she made that damn dowdy undergarment so fucking sexy, I couldn’t figure out, but I never wanted her to stop wearing them. Plain white little Jockey for Her had become the latest search on Amazon on my computer. Did that make me a freak? Maybe. Did I care? Not even a little.

  “Taylor?” Now my voice was a straight-up growl.

  “Hmmm?” Hers was a sexy moan.

  “Is your cunt wet?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Show me.”

  She reached farther into her panties, gliding her fingers into her folds. When she held them up to the camera, they were glistening with her arousal. A frantic moan spilled from me.

  “How you doing there, big guy?”

  “Jesus.” I slicked my hand along my swollen cock, the friction made better by more drops of white-hot arousal from the slit at my tip. “Taylor.”

  Her laugh was breathless…and beautiful. “Th-That good, huh?”

  “I love those fucking panties. Do they come in other colors besides white?” How that was the question of the moment was beyond me. Chalk it up to lack of blood supply.

  “I think so. Maybe pink? Would you like that?” She beamed a devilish grin.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I would. But pull those white ones down a little. But not all the way. Like you’re sneaking in dirty thoughts of me at work.”

  “Mac.” It hardly had any volume. In the cam, her middle finger disappeared into the rosy lips of her perfect pussy. Drops of arousal gleamed on the trimmed hair protecting her intimate entrance.

  “Good. Shit. Really good. Finger yourself…harder.” I loved telling her what to do and the way she so easily obeyed.

  “Ohhhh.” She pumped her finger in and out, in and out. So naughty. My goddamn dream girl.

  I stroked myself faster. I was hanging on by a thread. “I’m not going to last, baby. I don’t even care about the stupid bet. Losing will feel so fucking good.”

  “Do it.” Her guttural tone goaded me on. “Do it, Mac. Come for me. Show me how much you want me. Show me that I turn you on. Do you want to fuck me again? Eat my pussy until I come on your face?”

  “No fair, sassy.”

  “Fuck fair.”

  “I’d rather fuck you.” I let my head fall back as my orgasm built. It was coming on fast. So fast. Too fast…

  “Show me. Do it. Show me the come you want to spill inside me.”

  “Fuck.” So close. So damned close. Intense sensation racing up my shaft, stripping the oxygen from everywhere else in my body. Knowing I would be inside her again was the last thing I thought before I blew my load into the shirt I had taken off and dropped on the floor minutes before. “Fuck,” I repeated. “Taylor. Woman. Fuck. So good.” I kept pumping my shaft until the very last drop seeped from the tip, sweat dripping from my brow, down my nose and onto the keyboard of my laptop.

  When I looked at the screen of my laptop, Taylor’s blue eyes were glued to the monitor, fascination and awe painted across her face. A slow, sexy grin spread across her pouty lips when our eyes met.

  “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” she whispered.

  “I’d say I pretty much won that round, girl.” I slid out an exhausted smirk. “And I got a victory circle bonus. I still get to see you again for our track date. Hello? Ding ding. Double win.”

  Her grin fell when she realized I totally had a point—though she still also looked a little sexually frustrated. Perhaps more than a little.
>
  “Sassy, don’t get uptight,” I assuaged. “Let’s handle this. I’d never leave you hanging.” And I meant every word. I never left a woman unsatisfied. Especially not this woman.

  Sincere or not, they were the wrong words at the wrong time—or maybe the all-too-accurate arrows, fired into the weakest spots of her ramparts. At this point, the trigger didn’t matter. It had definitely been pulled.

  “You kidding me?” she snapped. “You think I’m ‘hanging,’ clown, because you seriously think I can’t masturbate without your help? Trust me, mister, I’ve got this. I’ve had years of practice.”

  “Wait. Whoa. That’s not how this was supposed to go down.”

  “Well, guess what, mister? It’s not the first time, and probably won’t be the last time, that a man’s grabbed the fast-pass on me in this department.” Her expression twisted a little, as if she alone knew the punchline to a hidden joke. “But hey, thanks for the entertainment for the past, what was that? Ten minutes? Nice.”

  Only now, the joke wasn’t so private.

  Or so funny.

  A point she refused to let me make, as she gave a sassy shrug and then disconnected our FaceTime.

  Hanging up.

  On me.

  Leaving me in the middle of my living room, my dick in my hand, naked as the day I was born.

  What. The. Living. Fuck?

  The girl was trying on every level, but this was a new one altogether. I immediately tried to reconnect the call, but she didn’t pick up. I tried her cell phone, and it went to voice mail. If I didn’t have a procedure scheduled for seven tomorrow morning, I would’ve been on a damn plane for San Diego inside the hour. Once there, that woman’s tiny ass would not be safe.

  But her ass would have to wait.

  Only two more weeks.

  Because that was when I drove there on a one-way trip.

  After that, there’d be no more running for Miss Taylor Mathews—from a lot of things in her life that clearly needed addressing.

  First on the list? Her commitment to me.

  Chapter Nine

  Taylor

  “Our massages aren’t for two hours, so we have some time to enjoy the pool and have some lunch. Are you ladies hungry?”