WickedSeduction

by Tina Donahue

  Clenching her jaw, she fought what Tor was doing, refusing to relax and submit.

  He suckled her gently, running his thumbs over her ass to the furrow between her cheeks. She tensed as his exploration brought him close to her anus. The moment he touched the tight ring, Marnie lost her breath on a wanton cry.

  Tor paused, as though trying to gauge her reaction, as if wondering whether he should continue.

  If he stopped now, she’d scream, which would surely run him off. Fighting laughter at her nutty thoughts, Marnie pushed her body closer, demanding more.

  He gave her what she had to have, tonguing and suckling her clit, stroking her anus, guiding Marnie to the edge. Despite how she fought release, Tor didn’t rush. Patiently, lovingly, he steered her to a point where she couldn’t resist any longer. The feelings were too intense, increasing until Marnie felt as though she might burst.

  She pressed her heels harder into the mattress, yanked on the comforter and wailed her release, the sound lewd. Free and unashamed.

  A bead of perspiration slipped down Marnie’s throat to her chest. She heaved air. A pulse beat deep within her pussy.

  After kissing her furry mound, Tor eased his fingers from her sheath and scooted up. “Good?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any man with a more gorgeous smile.”

  He laughed self-consciously. “Thanks but was your orgasm good?”

  “Do you even have to ask?”

  “No. Guess I’d like you to brag on me a little.”

  “There aren’t enough words to describe how awesome you are.” Cupping his face, Marnie kissed him long and deep, tasting herself on his lips, not stopping until she needed a breath. “Lie down and don’t move.”

  Raw lust filled his expression. “Why?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Tor dropped to the mattress on her left, arms pillowing his head.

  Still breathing hard, Marnie pushed to a sitting position and drank him in. Tor’s chest was nothing but hard slabs of muscle, his abs superbly defined, the hair in his pits dark and silky. Uncovered, his tat was better than she’d guessed, rough and masculine. Short hairs circled his navel, continuing in a thin line that streamed down his flat belly to the thick curls on his groin. His cock, hard and proud, jutted from the nest of hair, thick veins dashing down the shaft, the crown a deep red, a pearl of pre-cum on the tiny slit.

  Her mouth watered.

  She lifted his shaft and gazed at his balls, rounded with desire and lightly furred. His thighs and calves were muscular, dusted with dark hair, his feet large, toes long.

  My God, with so much to entice her, Marnie wasn’t certain where to begin. Tor was a freaking smorgasbord of delight.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Oh yeah.” With his cock in her palm, Marnie leaned down and took his right ball into her mouth.

  “Holy—” Tor didn’t finish, his words turning into sounds of delight.

  She was right there with him, moaning away at the feel of his hair-roughened skin on her tongue, the weight of his testicle, its wonderful flavor…a trace of salt and something unique to him she couldn’t possibly describe.

  His musky-male fragrance sent Marnie’s head spinning. Not wanting to neglect any part of him, she finished with his first ball and took the other into her mouth.

  “Holy fuck,” he cried, pounding the mattress with his fists.

  Marnie paused, wondering if her foreplay was beginning to be too much for him.

  “Why’d you stop?” He hauled in a breath. “Don’t stop, please—sweet Jesus.”

  She suckled him again and licked with abandon as she ran her hand up and down his cock, working his shaft as her pussy would.

  Alternately panting and swearing, Tor pushed his heels into the mattress, undoubtedly trying to maintain control. No way. He was hers now, his satisfaction in Marnie’s hands.

  Finished with his sac, she lifted her head. “That was the appetizer. Now for the entrée.”

  He laughed weakly.

  Marnie slid her mouth over the crown, pulling a new growl from him. Tor planted his hands on either side of her head, surely to keep her at the task—as if she’d stop before giving him the blowjob of his life. Marnie knew how to please a man. Not too long ago, giving satisfaction to Ethan until she hurt was a trade-off for being safe.

  No more.

  With Tor, this act meant something. He was a generous man with a good heart. Marnie wouldn’t be satisfied until she gave him her all. Opening her throat, she took his full length inside, inch by delicious inch, noting his elevated breathing, how he tensed his legs, the uninhibited noises pouring from him. Music for lovers. A moment for her to treasure.

  She cupped his balls in one hand and ran her other down the furrow between his cheeks, as he’d done with her. Tor squirmed but didn’t pull away. When Marnie touched his anus, he stilled then let out a bawdy groan.

  Encouraged, she probed his tight ring gently and eased his shaft from her mouth until only the crown was inside, trapped by her lips. Marnie took full advantage, tonguing the uneven skin at the back, a guy’s pleasure zone.

  Tor growled and gripped her skull. “Don’t—don’t—don’t—“

  “Continue or stop?” she asked around his cock in her mouth.

  “You did stop—don’t,” he said. “Please. Keep—ah.”

  Marnie had taken him back inside to the root, her nose pressed against his thick pelt scented with musk. Moaning softly, she eased away again, her tongue stroking his hard length, his most sensitive spot, and finally the smooth crown. She tongued the slit, loving the salty flavor of his pre-cum, but didn’t linger there. Moving down his shaft again, Marnie worked his cock as her cunt never could, her mouth, lips, tongue and hands busy, dedicated to his pleasure.

  He fought against release as she had, but Tor’s patience was no match for hers.

  “Fuck,” he suddenly shouted then came on an uncivilized bellow, hands dropping away from her, his thick, creamy cum spurting into her mouth.

  Marnie accepted his offering with pleasure, swallowing every drop, licking him clean.

  When she lapped his balls, he twisted his body. “No. Can’t take any more.”

  She stopped. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He paused to swallow. “I’ll be ready again in a bit.”

  “Me too.”

  For now, Marnie rested her head on his hairy thigh, her mind finally at peace.

  Chapter Six

  The following day, Alice couldn’t have acted more delighted at Marnie’s G-rated version of her evening with Tor.

  “I knew you’d have a good time,” Alice said, smiling so hard her gums showed. “How did your portrait come out?”

  Amazing. Although the features were similar to hers, no one would recognize Marnie as the model. Tor had drawn her in such a way she looked like a woman from the distant past, perhaps the eighteen hundreds. His use of peach-colored paper— mingled with brown, yellow and gold chalks—had added to the portrait’s dated feel.

  He’d finished the drawing after they’d enjoyed each other orally again and snoozed for a few minutes. The second time Marnie had posed, she was on her bed, the lamp illuminating her face.

  “No boobs in the drawing, please,” she’d said to him.

  Tor had given her a slow, sexy smile. “Someday, I want you to pose nude. A sketch just for us.”

  His words had sounded so promising, Marnie had grinned. “Maybe. But only after you ink me.”

  Before he’d left her apartment, Tor had promised her an original design for the tats and to have the other two versions of her portrait done by the next time they saw each other on Sunday—the only morning he had free before his shift at the parlor.

  From what he’d said, her tats would take numerous sessions to complete. The intricacy of the design, colors and the amount of skin to cover on her leg factored into many hours of work for him.

  “I’ll book you for the next couple o
f Wednesdays,” he’d said. “We both have off and I can devote my full attention to you before and after.”

  “After?”

  He’d explained how she’d need to care for her new tat, including cleaning the area, applying ointment and non-stick gauze. “Babying you,” he’d said.

  She smiled, remembering.

  “That good, huh?” Alice asked.

  “Oh yeah. The man can draw.” And do a whole lot of other amazing stuff. Marnie’s skin warmed in memory. “He really made me look good.”

  “Hush, you’re gorgeous…every part of you.” Alice glanced at Marnie’s arm, the scars covered by her long-sleeved, lace top. “Do you mind if I ask if you told him what happened, how you got injured?”

  “I did tell him—he’s such a good guy. I probably shouldn’t get too close to him though. I was trying not to—”

  “Why? Did your therapist warn against you having fun, being young, getting some happiness for yourself?”

  “She said not to rush into anything. Good advice.”

  “Have you told her about Tor?”

  Marnie shook her head. “She’s on vacation until the middle of next month.”

  “So long?” Alice clucked her tongue. “I’m here if you need to talk, and I don’t charge.” Her smile faded as she searched Marnie’s face.

  After a few seconds, Marnie felt self-conscious. Did Alice want her to talk now? “What?”

  “I know it’s none of my business and you can tell me if I’m way out of line, but did you tell Tor everything?”

  A wave of warmth rose from Marnie’s chest to her face. Her old urge to run returned. Too bad Alice was standing between Marnie and the front door of the shop. “No—but I will. When the time is right.”

  “Hon, you could be in danger.”

  Marnie stepped back. “No. I left before things got so out of control I couldn’t fix them anymore. None of my relatives know I’m here. I’m sure everyone thinks I’m still in Miami. Where else would I be? Mamá’s grave is there.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I haven’t even been able to visit her. Not one damn time. I’ve been careful.”

  “I know, sweetie. I know.” Alice gathered Marnie in her arms and patted her back. “I’m just saying, if Tor knew why you left Miami, he could help. Keep an eye out for trouble.”

  “I appreciate your concern but I don’t want him to have to babysit me.” She hugged Alice in return then eased out of the older woman’s arms. “I need to be strong. Having him know I had a brutal father is bad enough. I don’t want to tell him about an abusive boyfriend on top of everything else unless I have to.”

  “What if Ethan shows up?”

  “How could he? I left without him knowing—or believing—I would. I didn’t even bother collecting my last check from work or taking my stuff with me, except for a few changes of clothes. If I hadn’t been worried about him getting the cops involved in a missing person’s case, I wouldn’t have left him a note saying I never wanted to see him again and that I’d already told my uncles in law enforcement he was abusing me. Why would he want any trouble?”

  “Because he’s like most abusers and doesn’t see or hear anything that doesn’t fit with his world view. Besides, I remember you saying you didn’t contact your uncles.”

  “They never helped Mamá. Why would they do anything for me? He doesn’t know that though. Trust me, Ethan’s a damn coward. Even if he weren’t, how can he bother me if he doesn’t know where I am? I have no car to trace, no credit cards or bank accounts. My internet service is in your name. I certainly don’t have a Facebook page. I don’t exist any longer. He probably stopped looking months ago.”

  Alice didn’t look convinced. “I hope so.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Marnie smiled, praying she was right in spite of her big talk.

  * * * * *

  Sunday morning, Tor picked Marnie up at seven sharp so they’d have several hours before he had to be at the parlor.

  “My first appointment isn’t until two,” he said. “Let’s go. By the way, you look beautiful.”

  Her hair was fluffy, cheeks rosy beneath her natural color. Today, she’d worn faded jeans, leather huaraches and a black-and-white-striped, long-sleeved tee.

  Rather than heading out the door with him, she remained in her apartment. “Go? Where?”

  “To have fun. There are spots other than here, you know.” He glanced at the bed.

  Once she’d grabbed her huge purse—after shoving something inside he couldn’t quite see—they went to his pickup.

  “We have seven whole hours,” Tor said, getting the door for her.

  “The parlor opens at noon.” She ran her fingers up his arm, making him tremble with desire. “How much did you give Van Gogh to take your first customer?”

  “A thousand.”

  “What?”

  He laughed. “I told him if he didn’t help me this time, I’d stop inking in the window, leaving the glory to him.”

  “Did he pass out?”

  “Barfed but agreed. I know how to negotiate.”

  “Bad, bad boy. Where are you taking me?”

  Everywhere he could and then some. “My place.”

  The house was on the extreme end of modest for West Palm Beach, built in the late nineteen twenties, with a sizeable yard, lots of shrubbery, white shutters and a stucco façade in avocado green.

  “I know the color sucks,” he said, parking on the street. “I’m going to paint this baby a soft yellow, maybe beige. I haven’t decided yet. Lauren says whatever I want is fine.”

  Marnie frowned. “She’s your boss at work and here too?”

  “Lauren and my brother own this place. Dante has to invest in something, given the big bucks he’s making again. He’d already paid off our parents’ house and had or is putting all of us through college. Looks as if buying up property is next. He and Lauren have several houses already. I’m renovating this one for them and they’re letting me stay rent-free.”

  “Wow, you have some nice people in your life.”

  “Even more now.” He leaned over and gave her a deep, wet, lingering kiss, their tongues waltzing. She tasted of peppermint toothpaste, refreshing and clean. Tor didn’t stop until they tasted of each other.

  When he came up for air, Marnie looked as far gone as a woman could be, eyes closed, lips parted, skin glowing with excitement. This morning was going to be something. The first of many they’d share together.

  He opened the door of his pickup.

  “Wait.” Marnie touched his arm. “I have something for you.” She pulled a gift-wrapped box out of her purse, the paper shiny and red, the bow an even deeper scarlet.

  “You got me a gift?”

  “What woman wouldn’t? You gave me a wonderful night at my place. Go on, take this…unless you don’t want to.”

  Tor accepted the gift before she could put it back inside her purse or toss it out her window.

  “What’s inside?” He shook the box close to his ear.

  “Don’t.” She held up her hands in warning. “You’re going to break what’s inside.”

  He stopped immediately, wondering if she’d gotten him a pretty knickknack from the giftshop. “Sorry. I, ah, have something for you too inside the house.”

  Her face brightened. “My portraits?”

  His artwork was the least of what he had for her. “Let’s see.”

  Marnie beat him to the front door, bouncing on her heels as he opened the lock.

  His place smelled and looked good for her, just as Tor had planned when he’d worked his butt off. The fragrance of lemon wax mingled with Pine Sol, the hardwood floors were shiny, cloth sofa and chairs clean. He’d painted the walls eggshell white earlier in the week. With sun pouring through the slats of the shutters, everything seemed golden, dreamy and inviting.

  The medium-sized box on the cocktail table stood out in the hazy glow, given the wrapping paper he’d used. Bold pink, green and yellow flowers with Happy Birthday scraw
led between them. Marnie bypassed the box as though she didn’t notice it sitting there and headed for the sofa. Propped on the cushions were Tor’s portraits of her in three media.

  She held her fists to her chest, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

  Tor closed the door. “You like?”

  Marnie pointed at the one in the middle, tears filling her eyes.

  “What?” he asked, uncertain whether she was about to cry from happiness or sorrow.

  “I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous.” She went around the cocktail table and bent at the waist to see the portrait more closely.

  He’d used watercolors to depict her hair—waves of pink, green, yellow and a touch of blue. He’d tinted her eyes lavender, her lips fuchsia. Although the chalk portrait was less colorful in comparison, the art was also decidedly rich, vintage at its best. He liked the pen-and-ink one too, the stark black-and-white design reminiscent of Andy Warhol’s depictions of the rich and famous.

  Marnie straightened and threw her arms around him. “You are a god.”

  He grinned. “Well, yeah. But only in the bedroom.”

  She smacked his ass. “I can’t believe how talented you are. You’re— What’s that?” Marnie released him and moved past the box on the cocktail table again without even glancing at the thing.

  Maybe he should have wrapped her gift in red as she’d done with his.

  “Are these my tattoos?” She stood in front of two long sheets of drawing paper he’d taped to the wall, one for the design for her arm, the other her leg.

  Both showed sprays of 3-D flowers with butterflies and dragonflies hovering nearby. At the base of the artwork, the flowers and insects were in black and white. As the blooms spread up and outward, colors started to take hold. First, a touch of red that Tor had coupled with lavender, leading to pale blues and greens, followed by yellow. By the middle of the tats, the hues were blazing, giving the design the same spectacular effect as The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy left her black-and-white farmhouse and entered the colorful world she’d traveled to.

  Marnie threw herself into his arms again, hugging him fiercely. “Thank you. I mean it. I’ve never seen anything more glorious.”