by Max Henry
“Hold this,” she said, and gave him the free end.
“Oh, hell Love. Are ya sure?”
“Positive.”
His eyes closed briefly as his chest rose with a deep draw of air. When he opened them again, the softness had gone from the blue, instead replaced by the dark malice she had seen their first time together. Pete tugged on the belt to cinch it tighter on her neck. He slipped a finger underneath, next to her jugular to ensure she could breathe. Satisfied, he pulled it to the side and moved her from his lap.
Steph shifted, and braced herself on his thighs. He winced, and she paled. “Shit. I’m sorry. I completely forgot.” Guilt assailed her over the wound which probably still healed on his leg.
“It’s fine,” he assured her.
She eased onto the concrete at his side, and knelt next to him as he slouched on the crate. She placed her hands on the ground before her, between her knees, to steady her position. It struck her how much she must look like an obedient dog at his side.
He seemed to like it.
“Undo me trousers.” His instruction was gruff.
Steph rose up on her knees, and wrestled the jeans undone.
“Get me dick out.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, and he glowered at her.
“Come on. Unless you want us to be caught?” A wicked smile teased his lips.
She tucked her index finger under the elastic of his boxers, and pulled the fabric down to free his erection.
“Now suck it until I tell ya to stop.”
Oh, she could do this. Steph drew him into her warm mouth, and bobbed her head fluidly, up and down. She drew short gasps from him as she locked on tight at the base each time. His hand fisted in her loose hair, and guided her pace as he thickened on her tongue. You’ve done it; you’re finally bat-shit crazy. You’ll be locked up in a padded room before you know it.
“Oh, Jesus. That’s enough.”
Shit. Didn’t he like it? “What? Should I do something else?”
His eyes were dark, close to black, and he smiled suggestively. “Cutie, from now on I want ya to address me as ‘Sir’. When ya need me to take ya to this dark side of ya, to give ya release, ya call me Sir.”
She frowned, unsure what he meant. Sir?
“Ya know me true name, Love, and I want ya to keep that for day-to-day. But when ya want me to become the asshole ya said ya enjoy, call me Sir. Call it our code-word.”
Steph smiled, her gaze hooded as she stroked his still hard cock. “Yes, Sir.”
He growled in the back of his throat. “Good girl. Let’s get this done before we have company, huh?”
She nodded.
He raised a solitary eyebrow.
“Yes, Sir,” she corrected.
“Sit on me, and ride me until I come.” He tugged at her belt-collar.
Steph drew a lop-sided grin, and raised up to straddle his legs. “Yes, Sir.” She pushed the skirt she wore so it sat high on her thighs, and then stepped from the fabric of her lace underwear as she lowered herself onto his thick length. “Ooh,” she moaned as he filled, and stretched her. She eased herself down further with each stroke, careful not to be too rough.
“Good?”
“The best, Sir.”
“Jesus, yer tight little pussy is hungry tonight.”
Steph’s muscles clamped about him, his filthy mouth exactly what she needed to bring the fantasy she acted out to reality. He moaned beneath her as her pace quickened. Her heels slipped on the pavement. Pete shot his hands down to hold her calves steady. Steph pushed against the anchor he gave, and put all her effort into the motion she made over him. Each ridge on his erection tweaked the sensitive flesh inside of her. She could make out every inch as it glided through her with every stroke. Pressure built in her core. Her legs lost their stability as the first waves of her orgasm threatened.
“Not yet, cutie. Don’t ya fuckin’ dare.”
Steph stilled, and urged the stampede of desire in her gut away from the cliff. She tried to gain control over her basic instincts. The moment her breaths calmed, Pete took the lead. He gripped her hips, and lifted her off him enough to allow for free movement. Steph gasped as he rammed his hips into her over, and over. His pace was Olympic as he raced for the finish line. Her need built again, and she knew there would be no stopping it this time.
“Sir, please,” she begged.
“Come, Cutie. Ya can come,” he growled through gritted teeth.
Steph forced her eyes open as the pleasure hit her in wave after wave of relentless ecstasy. She watched his face morph as he stilled, and his length pulsed inside of her. The muscles on his neck stood out from the exertion, his forearms the same from the death-like grip he held her in.
He let her down slowly onto his still erect length, and smiled. Lifting his hands to her throat, he gently removed the belt, and rubbed her neck in slow strokes. “This is gonna be a bit of a mess,” he chuckled.
“Yeah.” Steph blushed.
“Give me yer panties,” he instructed.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied automatically.
His eyebrows shot up. “Ya ready to go for round two already?”
“No!” She cried. Hell! Let me get over this one first.
“Then ya better stop callin’ me that.” He laughed.
Steph leant to the side. Pete’s hands kept her balanced as she scooped up her strewn underwear. She handed it to him, unsure of his exact plan, and watched as he bunched it where their bodies met.
“Stand up, slowly.”
She inched off him, and took a step back—his hand followed her ... there. She gasped as the warm fluid ran from her so effortlessly, and shame flushed her cheeks. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
He eyed her curiously. “Have ya never ridden bareback before?”
She shook her head, certain she would die of shame. ‘Bareback’ was something Dave was never keen on. The mess it caused didn’t suit his anal-retentive, tidy-freak neurosis.
“Oh, Love. We better make up for that.” To her horror, Pete punctuated his words with a firm wipe of her swollen folds. He stood—jeans around his knees—and hobbled to a nearby dumpster. He tossed the filthy lace inside, turned, and grinned. She frowned at the angry red mark still evident on his thigh, and he quickly pulled his jeans up. “Ya won’t want those anymore.” He nodded to the dumpster.
“What the heck am I meant to wear now?” Great. Now she had to go commando for the remainder of the evening.
“If I had me way? Me.”
Her jaw dropped, and she punched him in the arm. He laughed, deep and genuine.
“Come on, Cutie. I better get back to work. I’ve been gone long enough.” He waggled his eyebrows, and reached out to straighten her skirt.
Steph retrieved her blouse, and cringed as she dusted the dirt off the back. She slipped into the light fabric, and buttoned the front in record time. “So, um. What now?”
He turned with his hand on the door to the bar, clearly puzzled. “Huh?”
“Are we agreeing to give it a try?”
“I thought we just did?” He smirked. Gorgeous.
“Not that! I mean, us, being ... together?” For whatever reason, simply sounding the words made her feel more awkward than a teenager asking her crush to the school dance.
“Yes, Cutie. We’ll give it a try. Now come inside before Gary sends the police after me for abductin’ ya.”
She smiled, but inside her mind worked overtime. Had they really done it ... in an alley ... with his belt around her neck? And you put it there, you mad woman.
Old Steph? Meet new Steph. She’s proving to be quite a handful already.
Pete led the way back through the bar, his fingers wound in Steph’s as she trailed behind him. Twisted Princess. Jesus, the woman had spoken to a part of him he thought would never see the light of day again. It had been years since he’d been dominant over a sexual partner like that. And fuck, last time ended in tears for the poor girl he had taken home;
not fully aware of what she had been in for.
But Steph. He sighed. Steph had taken the initiative. He didn’t have to lead her there, she just ... went. If his princess wanted to keep that up, things could get very interesting. Very.
Pete gave her hand a squeeze before he let go to return to the server’s side of the bar. She watched him as he walked through the divider, and gave him another smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. Something was wrong, and he hoped like hell it wasn’t that she regretted what they’d done.
Because if he had a heart, that kind of rejection would crush it.
He snatched up two empty spirit bottles, and binned them on his way to the far end where Janie struggled with a large order. “Need a hand?”
She gave a glare that could strip paint, and looked back to the glasses lined up before her. “Sure. If you feel like pretending you actually work here.”
Normally such a rude remark would have him lay down the law with her; remind her of her position in the pecking order. But shit, he’d had Steph, and his balls still hummed with the left-overs of a mind-shattering climax. How could he be angry under those circumstances?
Pete picked up the two empty beer glasses, and waggled them under Janie’s nose.
“Red,” she snapped.
He filled the vessels from the row of taps, and slid them onto the bar-top. His fingers jabbed merrily at the register as he tallied the total while Janie finished. His head lay in such a fluffy cloud that he seriously would have continued to smile had a team of terrorists torn through the place. That woman has yer nuts in her handbag already.
Fuck it. So what if she did? He was deliriously happy, and he needed the pretence of a magical life hereafter to block out the imminent shit-storm that would begin after his mother arrived. If that’s what it takes to keep ya happy, then ya better plan on havin’ Steph collared in yer house permanently. Was that what he actually did? Used Steph for a temporary bliss? He hoped not, but a part of him feared there was truth in his thought.
Because ya destroy. That’s what ya do, that’s what ya are, and you’ll never change.
Ever.
In the blink of an eye his uncharacteristic happiness faded into the darkness of a storm. Trust his inner monologue to get the better of him—the little shit in there needed to learn when to shut up. He closed the register, and surveyed the bar. Drunken women wobbled across the illuminated dance floor, and over-confident men stood in packs; each eyed their next target. His gut soured at the knowledge Steph was out there, amongst those low-lives. He should be next to her. He should protect her from the creeps.
Pete laughed.
Why on earth had he thought that? The only person she was in danger from was him. Jesus, the woman had shown her self-preservation skills the night she was removed from the premises. He shook his head, and turned to the next patron.
“What ya after?” he called over the music.
A tall brunette eyed him blatantly from head to toe. Shivers jittered down his spine.
“Sex on the beach,” she purred.
He snatched up a cocktail glass, and turned to grab the ingredients when her hesitant response caught his attention.
“Ugh, no. I didn’t mean the drink.” Her chin dipped, and she laid her best bedroom eyes on him.
Pete pressed his lips into a thin line, and slowly shook his head. “Not interested, Love.”
“You haven’t heard the kicker yet.”
He narrowed his gaze on her in the hopes he clearly conveyed his thoughts. Seriously?
“You can pick the spot—public or otherwise.” Her ruby-red fingernails tugged at the collar of her dress. She ran her fingertips around the edge to expose more of her pressed cleavage.
“Not. Interested.” He moved away to serve the next customer, when she screamed out at the top of her lungs.
“You creep!”
He glanced back, wide-eyed.
“This man,” she called to the curious onlookers, “told me I could have my drink for free if I fucked him!”
A sea of judgemental eyes washed his way. He tipped his head back, and looked to the ceiling. “Do I need to get security to remove you?” he asked.
“You asshole,” she spat. “First you insult me, and now you kick me out because I didn’t agree. You fucking pervert.”
The human sea washed his way once more. He could feel the heat rise in his neck. The woman pushed all the wrong buttons. “Do ya think anyone will believe yer lies?”
She snarled at him as she thought over a reply. “Of course you’d say I’m lying. Who’s going to believe the ‘drunk’ woman, huh?”
Pete shook his head, and walked to the end of the bar. He lifted his gaze, and connected with Steph. She stood second row back, behind the people who waited on a drink. Curious didn’t start to explain her expression.
“Hey, jerk!” the brunette continued.
Pete closed his eyes briefly to ease his livid temper. He opened them, and stormed to the far end of the bar to retrieve Gary. As he passed through the divider, the woman snatched his arm in her grasp.
“Get yer filthy fuckin’ hands off me,” he growled.
“Hey mate,” some unknown intruder to their argument interjected. “Let the lady alone, hey?”
Pete glared at the preppy up-start. “Gladly. It’s not me with the problem, though.”
“You fucking owe me an apology,” the brunette said.
“Seriously woman, FUCK OFF.”
Hero-of-the-day took his cue. “Hey, I don’t care who you are, but you can’t speak to a lady like that.”
Pete made a big show of looking at each of them, then around the bar area. “I’m sorry. I don’t see any ladies nearby.”
His face burnt with the heat of a blue flame as the brunette laid one on him. He stared at the floor for a moment, before he slowly brought his face up to look her over. “Ya sure ya want to start that?”
She spat on his face.
The fuckin’ bitch is suicidal.
Hero stepped forward to intervene—to Pete’s detriment it appeared—but stopped abruptly. The man looked behind himself, and stepped aside. Steph clung to the back of hero’s shirt.
“Honestly guys,” she warned in a low matter-of-fact tone, “you’re messing with the wrong guy.”
The preppy wanker snorted a laugh. “You’re joking right? He has his woman fighting his battles, and you’re trying to tell me he’s not one to mess with.” The asshole roared with laughter.
The brunette leered at Steph. “Honey, you better check yourself, because your man here tried to get in my pants. Where were you, huh?”
Pete took a step back, amazed himself at the pure hate that emanated from Steph as she walked up into the other woman’s face. “Right behind you as you propositioned him for ‘sex on the beach’. So how about you shut your mouth before you get in any more trouble? Sound like a good idea?”
The brunette’s face flushed red. She huffed and stormed from the area. Hero-of-the-day furrowed his brow in confusion, then probably sure he could score some tail, fled after the woman.
Steph turned to look at Pete—still mad.
“What?”
****
“Can you go one day without pissing someone off?”
He gaped at her remark, and then quickly buried his reaction beneath a mask of anger. “Like that was me fault.”
Steph dropped a heavy sigh, and crossed her arms across her chest. Cass was still somewhere with Gary, and if she was honest with herself, she had over-reacted a little. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Show me how sorry you are.” Pete closed the gap between them, and placed his hands on her waist.
She relaxed into his hold, and cupped his neck in her palms. The tattoo he wore on his throat sat perfectly framed by the heels of her hands. “I guess I didn’t like people thinking you came onto trash like her.”
He chuckled, the vibrations under her hand pleasurable. “You and me both, Cutie.” He tipped his head slightl
y and leant in to meet her wanting lips with his.
Steph relished his musky taste, the memory of the last kiss they shared in the alley had already faded. She pulled back, and swept a thumb along his jaw line. “It made me mad that she thought she had a right to proposition you.”
A cocky smirk wrapped his lush lips. “Is me girl jealous?”
A blush crept unwanted into her face, and neck. “A little,” she whispered. It was ridiculous that she was, in all honesty. He probably had plenty of women try it on with him working in such a place. More than likely went with the territory.
His tongue swept across his bottom lip, and flicked the ring aside. “Ya know what that makes me want to do?” He frowned as his eyes darkened.
Steph tried to pull back. She sensed she may have pissed him off. He gripped her tighter, and her heart hammered.
“Take ya back into that alley to show ya who really owns who.” A smile broke out, and he literally laughed at her unease.
“You bastard,” she cried as she swatted him.
He laughed harder, the sound melodic to her ears. “I better get back to work for real this time,” he managed through a chuckle.
“Fine. I’m off before you get distracted again.”
His face fell. “What?”
“What’s the point in sticking around?” She shrugged. “Cass is god-only-knows where, and I’m hardly out on the trawl for anything.”
“Mmm.” He crept his hands up her side. Jolts of pleasure criss-crossed her abdomen. “Good answer. I’ll be over when I get off.”
She waggled a finger in his face. “Uh, uh. No getting off without me.”
He licked his lip, and flicked the ring once more. “Cutie ...”
“Work. Now.” Steph gave him a gentle shove, and took a step back before he could grab her again.
His nostrils flared, and his jaw worked from side to side. The thought was there in his eyes—the wolf contemplated the chase. She shook her head slowly, and turned to sweep the place for Cass; tell her she was about to leave. His gaze burnt a hole in her back, but when she looked about, he was gone. Had she merely imagined it? Some days, she wondered if she imagined the whole thing. Was he purely a figment of her imagination?