The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 7

by Maxim Jakubowski

  The heat and humidity have returned with a withering vengeance so I’m dressed casually today in a tan and white shirt and brown pants as I read the sports section of the morning paper. There’s a tribute to the Babe. I didn’t know he broke into the major with Baltimore in 1914, didn’t know he tossed a record twenty-nine consecutive scoreless innings in a World Series. How he was sold to the Yankees by Boston, I knew. How Boston’s never won much since, even with Ted Williams . . .

  Someone taps at my office door and I can see, through the smoky glass who it is before the door opens. Evelyn slinks in. She’s in navy blue today, another low cut dress that’s too tight around the hips. She stops in front of my desk and folds her arms beneath those luscious breasts.

  “I just came from that lawyer’s office.” The little fuckist licks her crimson lips. “Now I’m here to pay you.”

  “For what? I solved my friend’s murder.”

  “My husband was released this morning.” Evelyn reaches back and starts unzipping her dress. I shake my head and smile, pull my feet down as she works the top of her dress down to her waist, then starts working it the rest of the way down.

  Evelyn unsnaps her bra and drops it on my desk. I realize the blinds are open and move over to shut them. When I turn back, Evelyn’s naked. She does a slow pirouette for me.

  I move back behind my desk and readjust my dick as I sit.

  Evelyn comes around and reaches for my belt.

  “Look, um . . .” is the only intelligent thing I can think of, taking in a deep breath as Evelyn runs her fingers across my erection. I reach for those breasts hovering in front of me, softly squeezing them, pinching her nipples.

  Evelyn unbuckles my belt and pants and unzips me. She pulls out my dick and squeezes it. She sinks her mouth on mine and we French kiss as she climbs on me. I instinctively grab her ass. Rising, she guides my dick to her pussy and sinks on it.

  We fuck right there on my chair, Evelyn riding my dick, bouncing and groaning.

  “Fuck me!” She moans. “Yes. Oh. Oh. Oh!”

  She’s hotter than ever and wetter than ever and I pounding her when I think I hear my door open. I shove my face around and Billy’s there, wearing all black, glaring at us like a bull terrier.

  I lift Evelyn and she wails passionately. I put her ass up on my desk as Billy comes forward, fast, fists rising, face contorted in anger.

  “Wait!” I gasp.

  “No!” Evelyn cries back. “Fuck me, you big bastard!”

  I try to pull away, but she’s got her arms around my neck like a vice.

  Billy runs around the desk and tries to punch my face, but I duck forward and his fist bounces off the back of my neck.

  Evelyn sees him and cries out.

  Billy punches me again, on the side of the head as I disentangle myself from his panting wife who’s up on my desk now, legs aspread.

  Billy howls and lunges at me with both fists and I block his blows as I fall back. I shove the high-back chair at him and hobble around my desk, trying to kick my pants off.

  He comes at me, face red with rage. Screaming, he rushes right into the left jab I throw at him in self-defense. It slams against his nose and he screams. He bounces back and runs his left hand under his nostrils, then looks at it for blood.

  “Hey,” I call out. “This is enough.”

  There’s no blood and Billy leaps at me again. I block his punches with both arms.

  “Stop!” I shout. “Quit hitting me!”

  Billy tries a roundhouse right, but I back away. Stumbling, he tries to come back with a left, but I catch him with my own left hook, right on the temple and he tumbles against the bookcase.

  “Let’s stop,” I try but Billy keeps coming, swinging wildly.

  I slam another left to the side of his head and the little man goes down.

  “Don’t get up!” I back away but Billy jumps up again and I block his shots with my left. Damn little fists hurt like hell.

  He pivots to his left and runs smack into the right cross I throw. It lifts him off his feet momentarily. His knees buckle and he goes straight down.

  Evelyn hovers over him, rolling him on his back.

  He seems to be breathing OK.

  I pull up my boxers and pants and fasten them quickly.

  Satisfied her husband’s not hurt badly, Evelyn gets up and moves back to me with that hungry look in those blue eyes.

  She tries to put her arms around my neck, but I grab her wrists.

  “What the fuck?”

  She smiles and leans forward to peck my lips.

  “Watching me get fucked gets Billy juiced.”

  I let go of her wrists and she kisses me, tonguing me as she grabs my stiff dick again. I try. I really try to resist, but I’m only human. Evelyn yanks down my pants and drawers and we do it on my desk, right on top of the Sports Section, her unconscious husband on the floor.

  Our mouths fish each other, tongues rolling together. I come up for air, not missing a stroke and ask, “Why did he hit me?”

  She gasps and says I’m pretty naive for a detective.

  “Watching me like this gets Billy hot and his blood boils, so he wants to hit you. Then he’ll screw the hell out of me later.” She grunts with my grinding. “Actually, he’ll try. Get his little dick wet. But I get my pussy reamed by you, big boy. Come on!”

  She closes her eyes and bounces under me, nearly lifting me.

  “What . . . are . . . you . . . com . . . plaining . . . about?” Her voice is husky with passion. “You get to do this with me!”

  Jesus! These are my neighbors.

  I feel myself close to coming and try to hold back. Evelyn wants no part of that and bucks me wildly.

  “We’re . . . going . . . to have . . . lots . . . of fun . . . this summer!” Her eyes are closed and this gorgeous woman is flushed with passion. I come in her, jamming my dick in her, making her cry out in pleasure.

  Just as we finish, I see her husband stirring.

  Here come the little fists again.

  This is what I get for thinking with the wrong head.

  Again.

  Watching Lois Perform

  Saskia Walker

  “Trust me, Lois.” Jack’s arm shot out, blocking the doorway to her office. “I know what you need.” His shirt sleeve was rolled up, revealing a strong forearm dusted with black hair, his fist sure and large against the door frame. Halted in her steps, she took a deep breath. Her glance moved to meet his. “Trust me, Jack, you don’t.” Steeling herself, she pushed his arm aside, ignoring his knowing look, ignoring those dark eyes filled with suggestion and the tangible wall of testosterone he exuded.

  She headed for her desk, her stiletto heels clicking over the polished wood floor. The skin on her back prickled with awareness, awareness brought about by his presence. He’d done it again. He’d made her curious, responsive. She didn’t take any nonsense from the men she worked with, but Jack Fulton had unsettled her. Counting to five, she put her laptop down on the desk and turned to face him, ready to challenge his comment. The door was ajar, the space empty. He was gone.

  She shook her head. “Typical.” Grabbing her bag and coat, she left the building.

  The pavement outside was growing crowded with commuters; the Friday evening London rush hour was under way. She stepped into the crush, leaving the office behind, hurrying to the tube station and descending the escalator at a pace. The display board told her it was four minutes until her train was due. She strode up and down the platform, her body wired. She was always like this after delivering a successful presentation. It had gone well, and she’d easily dealt with the put-downs issued by the men who defied her female power. She thrived on her success, but now she longed to throw off her city suit and heels.

  The crowd thickened on the platform behind her, noisy and restless. Wind funneled down the tunnel, a distant train rumbled. She glanced across the tracks. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw Jack standing opposite her, still as a pr
edator about to pounce. A barely perceptible smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Even across the rail tracks she could see the intense look in his eyes.

  She swallowed. What was it about Jack Fulton? The way he looked at her did powerful things to her, sexual things. They’d worked together for just a few months, but he was one of the few men who didn’t challenge her. Instead he sat back with a secret smile, watching as she defended herself at board meetings, where she proved over and again that she had earned her right to be in this male-dominated world. But it was more than that. His dark sexuality was evident in the way he carried himself and the way he scrutinized her. He made her self-aware in the extreme, her underwear soon growing damp when his gaze followed her with that knowing look in his eyes. The knowing look he had on right now.

  He inclined his head in greeting. She nodded back and then glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of her shoulder bag. One minute until her train would arrive. His earlier comment echoed through her mind: I know what you need. Her curiosity was growing. Her instant denial had been because of the controversy at the meeting, where she’d been giving the research stats for a proposal to change power source in the company’s major manufacturing plant. Men were always telling her they knew better than her, even though it was her field of expertise. As soon as she’d rebuffed Jack’s comment about knowing what she needed, she’d realized he meant something other than work. Something more intimate. She wanted to know more. And he’d gone.

  Glancing back, she saw that his train was approaching. He never took his eyes off her. She craned her neck when her view was obscured by the moving carriages. The shift of the crowd into the train made it impossible to pick him out. Then it was gone. The platform was empty. She stared at the place where he had stood until her train pulled in. She moved to the far side of the carriage, where she could stand out her journey, and turned on her heel just in time to see Jack close in behind her.

  “Your place it is then.” His eyes glittered with anticipation, with certainty.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. Her lips parted, but this time no retort emerged. Between her thighs, a pulse throbbed with need. She closed her mouth, snatching at the overhead handhold for support.

  His smile was triumphant.

  Later, in her flat, he threw her by rejecting a comfortable, relaxed seat on the sofa. Instead he pulled out a dining chair, indicating that she do the same and sit facing him.

  He’d teased her all the way home, innuendo in his every word, keeping her wired. And now, despite the fact they were in her home, he took charge immediately. Not in an aggressive way, but with a relaxed sense of surety that was disarming. She put her wineglass down on the table and took her seat, noting how exposed the setup made her feel.

  He lounged back over his chair, one leg folded, his ankle resting on the opposite knee, his hand loosely on the juncture. His looks were rugged but suave. He was dangerously attractive.

  She tried to look as relaxed as he appeared, but she was far from it.

  “I enjoyed watching you deal with that moron Laybourne at today’s meeting.”

  She gave a breathy laugh, releasing some of the tension he had aroused in her. “He’s just an arrogant little prick with very little real knowledge.”

  “You’re so right.” He gave a deep and genuine laugh. “He’s jealous of your abilities though, and he’s lusting after your body. The two vying motivations confuse him. Lust for a competitor can screw with a guy’s mind.” He looked at her with deliberation.

  Her heart raced. “It can?”

  “If he lets it.” His gaze moved over her body, slowly.

  “And are you jealous of my skills?” She crossed her legs high on the thigh, crushing the pounding pulse in her clit.

  “No, I admire them immensely. I’m not threatened by you.”

  Then for a moment silence hung heavy in the atmosphere.

  He raised one eyebrow. “I notice you didn’t ask if I lusted after you.”

  “I don’t think you came here with the sole purpose of analyzing today’s meeting.”

  He tipped his glass at her. “Indeed. And you did let me come home with you.”

  She couldn’t deny it. “So I did.”

  Silent acknowledgment raced between them. We are going to fuck.

  He took a sip of his wine, eyeing her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.

  “It’s not easy for you, is it? Blonde, pretty, extraordinarily intelligent.”

  Something akin to relief hit her. “No, it isn’t.” She smiled, genuinely appreciating his words. He really had been observing her.

  “What do you usually do, when you bring a man home for sex?” He said it as if he was discussing the weather, and glanced around the open-plan living area, as if the furniture could tell tales.

  “Oh, fast, dirty sex, nothing prolonged in terms of involvement. I don’t have time.” She pushed her heavy hair back from her face, watching for his response. It was the truth. What would he think of her?

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Really?”

  “Perhaps you should make time.”

  “Perhaps I should.” Where was he going with this?

  “How many times do you reach orgasm, when you have ‘fast, dirty sex’?”

  It felt as if the temperature had risen dramatically. “That’s a rather intimate question.”

  “I mean to be intimate with you, Lois.”

  He wasn’t kidding. His provocative questioning had her entire skin prickling. “Once, mostly,” she replied eventually.

  He nodded. “I’d like to see you come more than once. You deserve better than that.”

  If he’d wanted to grab her attention, he’d certainly found the way. Up until that moment she could have turned away, asked him to leave. Not now. Not anymore.

  “There’s a determination about you that fascinates me,” he continued. “You stalk after everything. If we were living in a primitive world, you would be a powerful huntress.”

  She smiled at the image, loving it. “Very amusing, but what’s your point?”

  “My point is that even powerful women can learn by pacing themselves.” He ran one finger around the rim of his wineglass. “You might benefit from restraint.”

  Her sex clenched. The nape of her neck felt damp. “You’re suggesting bondage?” She let her gaze wander over his body: bulky with muscle, his expensive clothing barely concealed his obvious strength. Being under him would be quite something.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m talking about a different kind of restraint altogether. Will power. I enjoy seeing you battle with your energies, using and controlling your power in the workplace. Whether it’s in the boardroom or elsewhere, your desires are only just harnessed. You’re a powerful woman, but it’s as if you’re always on the edge of losing control. And that is such a turn-on.”

  Breathing had become difficult. More than that, his words about willpower struck a note with her, and she recognized herself in what he said. She had never thought about it that way, but yes. He was right.

  He smiled and it was filled with dangerous charm. “I’m enjoying watching you now; you’re racked with sexual tension. I can almost touch it.” He moved his hand, as if he was touching her from where he sat. “Your eyes are dilated, slightly glazed. Your body is restless, your movements self-conscious, jumpy; your skin is flushed. Your nipples are hard.”

  She took a gulp of wine. The way he described her was sending her cunt into overdrive.

  He loosened his tie. “You’ve been squirming on that seat for the last five minutes. I’d put money on your underwear being very, very damp.”

  Her skin raced with sensation, the thrill of his words touching her every inch of skin, inside and out. She wanted to fuck. Now. But he was making her sit there and listen, controlling her with his intimate, knowing words.

  His glance dropped to her cleavage. She realized her fingers were toying with the button there. She clutched it tight, stilling her hand, and
bit her lip.

  “Be careful, you’ll draw blood.”

  He didn’t miss a thing.

  “How wet are you, Lois?”

  She squirmed on her chair, desperate for contact, her eyes closing as she replied. “Wet, very wet.” She stifled a whimper.

  Silence hung heavy between them again while she looked up at him for his response. He was still as a bird of prey, his chin resting on one hand. A large bulge showed in his expensive Armani pants. She wanted it badly, wanted it inside her where her body was begging to be filled.

  He lifted one finger, gesturing at her crotch. “Open your legs, show me.”

  Swearing under her breath, she followed his instruction, dragging her short skirt up and over her hips, her eyes never leaving his. As she opened her legs, pivoting out on her stacked heels, his eyes darkened.

  “Oh yes, you are wet.” His lips remained apart as he stared at her. She sensed his breathing had grown quicker. “Touch yourself, through your panties,” he instructed.

  She rested her hand over her pussy and groaned aloud. Her clit leapt, her hips wriggling into her hand for more.

  “Enough.” He smiled. “Stand and take your underwear off.”

  Her heart thudded so hard she thought she might crack. She took a deep breath and stood up, rested her thumbs in the lacy waistband and paused.

  With one finger, he gestured downward.

  She rolled them over her hip bones, growling quietly when she found herself exposed under his gaze. Dropping the panties to the floor, she stepped out of them. Her skirt was wedged around her waist, her pussy exposed. She rested her hands on her hips in an attempt to feel less awkward.

  “How delicious. I can see your clit poking out. It’s very swollen, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, her feet shuffling, her face on fire.

  He gestured at her abandoned panties. “Pick them up and bring them here.”

  His instruction hit her like a left hook. He wanted her damp underwear. She steadied herself. Bending to snatch them up, she looked at the floor, counted to five. He also wanted her to move closer. Standing, barely in touch with her equilibrium, she swayed on her heels. When she stepped forward, she had the panties clutched against her chest.