by Angel Payne
“You’ll do no such thing.” She’d just hit a very possessive nerve, and I wasn’t even considering denying it.
“I’m not so sure, Mac. This dress might be pretty persuasive.” She hiked the hem up her leg even higher while she said it.
“Don’t test me, sassy. I’ll tie you to the bed and leave you there all morning while I go out to the track. And when I come back in, I’ll fuck you all the different ways I imagined while I was kicking that douchebag in the Porsche’s ass on the track.”
“Oooooo, caveman clown. I don’t think I’ve seen this side of you yet.”
I paused and raised my eyebrow. “Do you like it?”
She reached down between her legs and pulled her skimpy little thong panties to the side. “You tell me.”
I wasted no time reaching up her skirt and thrusting my fingers into her very wet pussy. “That’s a yes.” I quickly pulled my belt from the loops of my pants and held one end in each hand.
“Show me your wrists,” I ordered.
She held them out in front of her, and I slid the end of my belt through the buckle, binding her hands together. I kicked the stand that held the back of the chaise-longue up so the chair back fell flat. “Get up on your knees, sexy girl. Face the race track.” I looked around for a few pillows and saw a couple on a chair over near the outdoor kitchen.
I caught Taylor still watching the cars tearing around the track when I turned and headed back to the lounge chair where she was kneeling.
“Can’t take your eyes off the action tonight, hmmm?” I threw the pillows on the chaise-longue in front of where Taylor knelt.
She grinned, playing along, goading the caveman in me. I wasn’t actually angry, but she had admitted that my being jealous of her and someone else excited her, so I’d go with it.
I knelt behind her on the chaise and reached up under her dress, slipping my hand into the waistband of her panties. I growled into her ear when I felt how much wetter she’d become in that short time. “Well. Isn’t this interesting.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She tried to play innocent.
“Is all this for him?” I showed her my wet fingers, stickiness stretching between them.
She snapped her head back in my direction, acid voice answering, “Maybe. You’ll never know.”
I bit into her shoulder roughly. “But he’s not here with you now, is he? It’s just you. And me.”
“I guess that will have to do. For now. God!” she yelled as I pushed two fingers back into her pussy.
“Does he finger you the way I do? Can he make you come with just his hand? Just his mouth? Does he make you scream the way I do? Does he, Taylor?”
She leaned back on my shoulder, smiling at our game, enjoying the pleasure I brought her. “You’re so fucked up.”
“I’m fucked up? That’s kind of funny, don’t you think? Whose pussy is dripping right now?”
“Then stop fucking around and put your dick in me.” Her voice was challenging and throaty.
“You’re forgetting that you don’t call the shots around here, do you?”
She grinned. “Not all the time.”
“Ask me nicely.”
“Fuck me, clown.”
I reached around her front and pinched her nipple through the fabric of her dress. I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra from some earlier exploration. “That’s not what I consider nice.”
“Oh, look, here comes that red car again.” She turned her body to face completely forward to watch the cars passing the front of the villa.
I pushed her forward, and because her hands were bound, she fell into the pile of pillows, her ass presenting itself beautifully. I moved her dress up over her cheeks and tore the scrap of underwear out of the way.
“Hey! Those were brand-new!”
“Were they now? Pity,” I answered with absolutely no remorse.
“You’re totally replacing those.” Her words were muffled by the pillows.
“Okay,” I answered carelessly as I dropped my slacks around my thighs and stroked my cock a few times, preparing to slide on a condom. I’d never fucked up a second time after that night, and we’d never mentioned it again. After her bizarre reaction earlier to my profession of feelings for her, I didn’t think we’d ever have a conversation about ditching the condoms, either.
Once I was sheathed in protection, I placed the head of my cock at her entrance and waited. A few beats passed until she finally whined.
“Christ, Mac, what are you waiting for? A golden fucking ticket to enter?”
I smacked her ass and then grabbed a handful of her hair, cranking her entire body back up into a tall kneel again, her back flush against my front. I wrapped my large hand around her throat from behind.
I leaned in and growled into her ear, “Do I need to stuff something in that fucking sassy mouth of yours again to teach you some manners? Maybe my cock this time? You can give me one of those stellar blow jobs while your little boyfriend in the Porsche watches me fuck your face?” I felt her rough swallow against my hand and fought every single urge to put more pressure on her fragile neck. I knew she liked pain. I knew she loved dirty talk and rough handling, but we’d never touched on choking in any form, and I didn’t want to go too far.
“I’ll be good. Just fuck me, Mac. Please. Please fuck me.”
“That’s much better.” I abruptly let her fall forward again onto the pillows so she wouldn’t injure herself, since her hands were bound. I enjoyed being a dick, but I wasn’t abusive. That wasn’t my jam.
This time when I lined my cock up at her entrance, she patiently waited until I was ready to plunge forward, which I timed with the exact moment the Cayman GT4 passed in front of our balcony.
Taylor cried out at the sensation, and I encouraged her. “That’s right, baby, let him know how good I fuck you.”
“It’s not that great. Not really,” she had the nerve to answer back.
I smacked her ass repeatedly. “Stop lying to yourself, girl.”
She had a big red handprint blooming on her ass cheek, and she would love it. After this many months of dating, I knew that when we parted ways for the work week, she loved having secret marks from our lovemaking. Her pale skin left a vast canvas for me to paint on.
“Come on, Taylor, come for me.” I held on to her hips and drove into her, the movement from our bodies making the furniture skip across the deck a fraction of an inch with each thrust. We were almost up against the railing by the time she threw her head back and yelled my name. Any privacy that we might have had under the cover of the awning of the deck where we started was long gone when we finished.
And neither of us cared. I followed right behind her with my orgasm, shouting Taylor’s name, several variations of the Lord’s, and a few swear words in the mix too. I quickly released my belt from around her wrists and pulled her against my chest on the chaise-longue that was still over beside the fire pit in the shadows of the villa.
“You are one amazing woman.” I kissed the top of her head and stroked my thumb up and down her arm. I was in love with her and I wanted to tell her so. But I knew she would literally run back to San Diego, on her own two feet, faster than that Porsche had just flown around the track in the desert night.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” She sighed into the crook of my neck.
All I could hope for was time. That in time she would see that I was worth taking a risk on. That I was the one worth handing her heart over to. That I was the one who truly was her white knight who would rescue her time and time again from any situation life threw at her.
Chapter Thirteen
Taylor
“Why don’t I just Uber it home? I don’t want to intrude on your visit.” I was stalling while Mac held the passenger door open for me.
“Stop.” He gave me a lingering kiss, and instantly I wanted more. “She wants to meet you. You’re not intruding on anything. Get in, love. We’re going to be late.” He gave a gentle nudge with hi
s hand to the small of my back.
“I just feel like an interloper. And I’m not dressed right for this restaurant. I looked at it again online. It’s very upscale, Mac. I’m still in my work clothes.” I looked down at the pinstriped blouse and pencil skirt I was wearing and cringed.
“Sass. You look amazing. Please, will you relax? And get in the car.”
“I just would rather be at my best, you know? You’ve said some pretty intense things about your mom in the past. I’d rather be in peak form.” I relented, slid into the front seat, and fastened my seat belt.
Mac hustled around the front end of his adorable little BMW, got behind the wheel, and started the engine. “Baby, please. You look amazing. She’s going to love you. And I won’t let her do anything out of line. I promise. One off-color remark, and we’re out of there. Okay?”
“Who picked the restaurant?” I wished I wasn’t already letting this woman get under my skin, but I was going to be such a fish out of water at Mr. A’s. It was one of the fanciest, if not the fanciest, place in the city.
“She did. Why?” He was already getting defensive. Uh-oh, closet mama’s boy, perhaps?
“I just didn’t think it seemed like a place you would like. At least it’s close by.”
“So you have been there? I’m confused.”
“No, I’d never go to Mr. A’s. Not my style. Wait till you see this place. It’s just a San Diego classic, like the Hotel Del.”
“The hotel what?”
Sometimes it was easy for me to forget that Mac had just moved here in December. “Oh, my God, never mind. Thank you for picking me up, though. I hope my car gets stolen from the parking garage tonight so I can make an insurance claim and get a new one.”
“Baby, I told you before. If you—”
“Do. Not. Mother. Fucking—”
“Sorry. Sorry. I forgot. But most normal people, by this stage in their relationship—”
“Oh, is that what this is now?” I was right back down his throat with my exception to the “r” word.
“Is that another taboo word? Christ. Okay, you know what? I don’t want to fight with you on the way to dinner when you’re meeting my mother for the first time. She’s going to require the majority of my energy, I’m sure. She always does.” The last sentence was said as he looked out of the driver’s-side window. But I still heard him.
“What does that even mean, Mac? I mean you’re a grown man, for fuck’s sake. How needy can she be?”
“That depends on the day, I suppose.”
“Take Fourth.” I pointed toward the left. “We can either park at Horton Plaza or see if they have their own parking.”
“Yelp said they have valet. And it’s on Fifth.”
“Never mind, then. I was just trying to help.” We rarely ever argued, and this timing was the worst.
“I appreciate it.”
His voice was so clipped and cold, I just glared at him before responding.
“I can tell.”
We pulled into the valet line, and he turned his body to look at me fully. “Do you need a spanking before we go inside? I’m serious, Taylor. I can’t battle you all night, so can you dial back the attitude? I’m already tense enough.”
“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself, Dr. Stone. Let’s just get this over with.” I was pissed and didn’t want to be there at all by that point. The lot attendant opened my door and helped me out, flirting when the hemline of my skirt rode up when I swung my legs out of the low-riding car.
“I’ll take it from here, junior.” Mac took my hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, his jealous streak flaring. He looked gorgeous in a full suit, something I rarely had the pleasure of seeing him in. Light gray over a crisp white shirt, lavender tie to finish it off. If I hadn’t been so pissed at him, I’d have told him how yummy he looked.
“You’re staring,” he whispered in my ear.
“Because you’re acting like a jackass,” I whispered back. Then I smiled. “And you look good enough to eat.”
“Later, baby. Later. Let’s go make nice with the Wicked Witch of the Midwest.”
“Boy, when you put it like that…” My palms were starting to sweat.
Mac’s mother was already seated at the bar when we walked in, with what looked like a gin and tonic in front of her. Constance Stone was a very put-together woman in her midfifties. She must have been quite young when she gave birth to her only child. She stood when she saw us approaching, eyes twinkling in adoration of her son. Her tailored black slacks were paired with a pale blue cashmere sweater, accented by jewelry that was tasteful and refined. I was sure all of the stones were as real as could be. Teardrop-shaped diamonds hung from her ears, visible with her on-trend short hair style. Her makeup was neutral and appropriate for a woman her age. Basically, she looked flawless. Even her manicure was fresh and perfect.
“Mother, this is my girlfriend, Taylor Mathews. Taylor, my mother, Constance Stone.”
I gritted my teeth when he called me his girlfriend, unknowingly dooming us to relationship hell, and offered my hand in greeting.
“Oh, now what’s this?” The woman gawked at my hand. “Nonsense, dear. If my son loves you, then I already love you too.” She pulled me in for a quick hug, stronger than I expected, bussing each of my cheeks with a sideways kiss. I felt like a rag doll in her grip. When she set me upright again, she looked me over from head to toe and then spoke to Mac as if I weren’t standing right there.
“She needs to eat more, sweetie. She’s a bit sickly looking, no?”
“She’s beautiful and perfect the way she is, thank you, Mother.” He snatched me back from her grasp with a gentle touch but a forced smile.
“She’s also standing right here,” I added, bugging my eyes out in Mac’s direction.
The hostess picked the perfect moment to approach us and let us know our table was ready. Mac motioned to his mother to lead the way, and she did so with her head held high, like royalty walking among commoners. I followed directly behind her, taking note of her very expensive shoes and handbag, Mac bringing up the rear, strong hand on my lower back. If I could’ve made a run for it then and there, I would’ve. When the hostess pulled my chair out, Mac took over and insisted on seating me himself. He left his mother’s wellbeing to the staff member, however. I was sure that pissed her off on some level. It certainly didn’t go unnoticed.
The menu was very sophisticated, and the food was divine. I ordered a few things I didn’t particularly care for, so when I picked at my food, it just brought more attention to the topic du jour.
“Aren’t you hungry, Taylor?” his mother asked.
“No, I am. Or I was. These are very big portions.” More than half my dinner remained on my plate.
“Do you have an eating disorder, dear?”
I nearly let my fork clatter to the plate. Instead, I placed it carefully on the edge.
At the same time, Mac plummeted his head into a hand. “Dear God, Mother.”
“What? I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of. You don’t have to be uncomfortable around me, dear. I’m very easy to talk to. You’ll see.” She went to pat my hand, and I pulled it out of her reach.
“No. I don’t have an eating disorder. Thank you for your concern, though. I just didn’t care for the sauce on the shrimp I ordered. Mac, would you like this? I’d hate to see it go to waste.”
“No, babe, I’m full. You weren’t kidding. They really give you a lot of food here. There was enough food for three people on my plate.”
“At least,” I agreed with him, trying to steer the subject in a different direction.
“Or if you eat like a bird,” Constance mumbled loud enough for us all to hear as she wiped the corner of her mouth.
“Mother. Enough.”
“Well, I think you may want to take her to a doctor. Maybe one of your friends specializes in nutrition.” She turned to me. “I know Mac said you had a rough childhood. Did you not have enough foo
d when you were a child? I understand that can lead to eating problems as an adult.”
I calmly placed my napkin on the table beside my uneaten food everyone seemed so concerned about. “Rough childhood?” I looked at Mac with a dangerously sweet smile on my face. “You tell me, dear. What problems could that lead to as an adult?”
“My mother is drawing conclusions that shouldn’t be drawn and that certainly aren’t her business.” He swung his stare to Constance. “This is your last warning. You’ll apologize to Taylor, or she and I are leaving.”
“No, no need to apologize.” I smiled at Constance. “I realize I’m on the thin side for a person of my height. It makes some people uncomfortable. But I assure you I eat plenty. I also assure you that my troubled upbringing has only made me a stronger adult, not weaker. If you will excuse me, I need to use the restroom. It will be to urinate and wash my hands. Not to purge my dinner. This food cost way too much of your son’s hard-earned money to disrespect in that manner, not to mention I hate throwing up in general. If you feel like you need to escort me to the restroom in order to sleep better tonight, please feel free to do so. However, you will be missing a golden opportunity to talk about me behind my back while I’m gone.”
I pushed my chair back quietly, got up, grabbed my purse off the back of the chair, and walked confidently to the restroom. When I made sure the woman hadn’t followed me to the lounge, I collapsed onto the toilet, shaking like an addict needing a fix. I’d never been so fucking humiliated in my entire life. And my boyfriend had sat there at the same table and let it happen. If we were still dating by the end of this night, he definitely wouldn’t be getting lucky. And that was for starters. I would think of better payback for this brand of torture as the night wore on.
And how dare he discuss my “rough” childhood with anyone, let alone her? And for what reason? So they could sit around and pity me? Judge me? Yeah, we were going to have a major fight tonight.
Major.
After I’d finished my business, I washed my hands and went back to the table. They both became noticeably quiet when I approached, solidifying the impression that they’d been talking about me while I’d been gone. Mac’s face seemed particularly flushed, so he was either angry or aroused, and my bet was on the former. I held his gaze as he helped me with my chair, silently sending him death threats. If he were smart, he would let me take an Uber home.