by Nikky Kaye
My lungs expanded in between the onslaught of kisses, like I was trying to right myself after a wave knocked me over at the beach. My heart thumped in time with his fingertips tapping against my neck, and stuttered with each rasp of my zipper plunging.
Nathan devoured me, alternating soft, seductive kisses with demanding, masterful sweeps of his tongue. As the back of my dress fell open, his thumbs traced the path of my spine until they hitched onto the clasp of my bra.
“Mmm, wait.” I took a step back, forgetting that my zipper was down to my ass and he’d already drawn the straps down my arms. The dress fell to the floor, landing like a snowy cloud around my tender feet.
He sucked in a harsh breath. “Fuck, Zoe.”
Admiration blazed so strongly from his eyes that it embarrassed me. I wasn’t anything special. I always wanted to have a natural tan instead of being so pale I was practically see-through. The closest thing I had to a thigh gap was a space between my ankles when I stood with my legs together. My hair frizzed and my nose was too—
“Shut up. You are a fucking goddess.”
I blinked, unsure if Nathan had spoken or if my inner voice was giving me a pep talk.
“You’re wrong.” Nathan scowled. I guess it had been him, and I’d been babbling out loud. “You’re wrong, and you’re perfect.”
The logic of that escaped me, but then so did logic in general as he skimmed his hands over every single one of my perfectly wrong curves. He traced the lines of my light beige bra and thong as though they were something extraordinary rather than the only things that wouldn’t show under my white dress.
“It’s what’s in it that’s extraordinary,” he corrected.
I bit my lip. Clearly my subconscious was pretty chatty. It was time to shut her up before she cock-blocked me.
Hoping to distract the self-destructive witch inside me, I reached out to touch him. If he was going to examine every inch of my skin, then I could do the same. He was exposed from the waist up, and his loose cotton pants did nothing to hide his desire for me.
Maybe it was my age, or my lack of experience, but I didn’t have the same discipline or the same patience that he had. The second my hands lit on his bare chest I went up in flames. I needed more—more of his hands, his mouth, his fingers, his tongue, his cock…
“Nathan, please!” I didn’t even know exactly what I was pleading for, but I knew that only he could give it to me. My fingertips ran over the faint ridges of his stomach to the drawstring at his waist.
He shuddered, his eyes darkening with lust. “You want me to fuck you, Zoe?”
I might have come a little at that moment. I nodded.
He raised our joined hands above my head and walked me backwards toward his bed, carefully steering me around any tripping hazards. My breasts bounced and swayed with my arms held up, my tight, tender nipples seeking the heat of his body. With every step, Nathan regained more and more of his self-control and his possession over me.
“I want to suck your tits until you scream and I want to push aside your panties and plunge into you until… My. Cock. Owns. You.”
Yes! Some honest emotional communication! And definitely coming a little. At this point my thong was merely decorative. And soaked from tiny primal responses coming from deep within me.
“But I would be lying if I said that’s all I wanted to do,” he added as the backs of my knees hit the bed.
He lowered our hands. Disentangling his fingers from mine, he leaned forward and kissed me until I was breathless. At this point, it didn’t take much.
“Oh Zoe, I want you more than I should,” he murmured.
Yes, I was familiar with the feeling.
“But you broke the house rules, remember?”
I tilted my head back. “What?” House rules? What, my ‘curfew’? Was he joking?
“No, I’m not joking.”
My stupid inner voice was too loud. I shook my head as his hands went to my waist. “So, what, I’m grounded?” I laughed.
His green eyes narrowed to slits before he pounced. “Not exactly.”
With breakneck speed he spun me around and bent me over until I toppled over onto the bed. He put one knee on the bed beside me, manacling my wrists in front of me with his left hand.
His right arm arced back then he brought his open palm down on my ass. Hard.
8
Nathan
I was correct. That rosy color was beautiful on her porcelain flesh. When she yelped and whipped her head back to me, her cheeks were flushed too.
“What the fuck, Nathan!”
From my position at her side, one knee on the bed, I was able to lower my head to hers and still caress her ass at the same time. While my fingers trailed over the sting and shock she was certainly feeling, I kissed her until she whimpered.
“I told you that wasn’t a spanking before,” I whispered against her lips. “I was worried about you. I don’t like to worry. I don’t normally have to worry.”
“I’m sorry,” Zoe whined.
She was so young and fresh. Too young for me, too young for this? The flash in her eyes that first morning when she played with my rose flogger, however, made me hope she was curious. I hadn’t dared to hope for more than curiosity then, and I’d take what I could get now.
“How sorry?”
“I—uh—what?” Her eyes closed as I drew figure eights from one cheek to another. She arched her lower back to meet me.
“Are you going to listen to me? Follow my rules? Or would you prefer to risk punishment?”
I released my hold on her wrists. Only my words and my light stroke on her bright backside held her in place. I would set the rules, but only if she was game. I wasn’t playing sexual solitaire here.
She swallowed audibly. “Punishment? What are we talking about here, Nathan? Your hand or a cat of nine tails? You going to collar me and put me on a leash at a skeevy club?”
I burst out laughing at the picture she painted. I also hardened further, shifting on the bed to accommodate my throbbing dick. “Is that what you want?”
“No!” Her eyes rolled back a little at the continued ministrations of my hand on her ass. “Well, not all of it.”
“Oh?” I reached back to dip down underneath her. She was wet, slick with arousal. “But some of it, I think. Some of it turns you on, makes you ache with want, doesn’t it?”
“Damn you, Nathan Brownlow,” she groaned as I slid my first two fingers underneath the flimsy crotch of her useless thong and tested her. “Oh god, do it!”
I circled her entrance slowly, methodically. “Do what?”
“Fuck me. Spank me. Make. Me. Yours.”
“Big words for a little girl from the Midwest.”
“Those were all one-syllable words.”
“Smart ass.” With my other hand I gave her bottom a light smack.
“Well, now it’s smarting! What can I—ahhh!—say? New York is rubbing off on me.”
She might be a little green, but she had a lot of courage. I lo—really admired that about her. I hummed, straightening up and plunging my fingers into her tight pussy. She screamed, reflexively trying to draw her knees underneath herself.
“Oh god, more, please!”
I needed to see her. Impatient, I tore her flimsy thong down the seam at her hip, making her gasp. My breath came fast, my belly tightening as I craved my own release. I had more control than that, though, and I was determined to make her fly first. And second. I’d get to my own pleasure later.
“More what?”
“More everything.” She pushed herself up onto all fours, resting on her forearms. She arched her ass back at me, pushing her hips back to take me deeper in subtle, sinuous movements. “It feels so good. I never…”
“Never been finger fucked before?”
Dropping her head, she buried her confession and an atomic blush in the covers. “Notlikethis!”
She whined in protest as I withdrew my fingers. With a wince and apology t
o my impatient dick, I slid off the foot of the bed and stood behind her. The way she clenched around my fingers told me she was going to come soon, but I wasn’t ready for that to happen yet. I licked her juices off my fingers.
“I can’t wait to taste you properly.”
Another whimper.
“But we’re not quite done with the punishment part of the program, Zoe.”
Her laugh came out as a gasp. “You don’t consider this punishment? Jesus!”
I glanced down at the wet spot on the front of my pajama pants, left by my weeping and unattended cock. She had a point. I had a point. Shit, that was the point.
“I’ll make you a deal.” I could do that. I made deals all the time. I didn’t usually negotiate like this, but Zoe was different. “I’ll let you come after your spanking.”
“Deal. Deal!” She wiggled her ass at me.
God, she looked lovely. Her creamy curves were all on display for me, nestled in my covers like a pale peach in a bowl of vanilla ice cream. In the light bleeding from the bathroom I could still see the pink on her ass from where I’d swatted her before. Her arousal glistened in her dark, rosy center, and she visibly shuddered in anticipation.
My control breaking briefly, I dropped to my knees and ran the tip of my tongue around her entrance.
“Ungh!”
I popped back to my feet, licking my lips. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“Damn it, Nathan!” She sagged a little, her energy beginning to flag.
“Okay, I got you.” I slid my fingers back into her. She hissed, her walls clamping down on me so hard I was afraid she’d come. “Not yet, though, okay?”
She lifted her head, stretching her neck until her hair tumbled down her back. If only I had four hands at that moment—one to hold her hair, one in her pussy, another on my cock, and one for spanking. I would have to prioritize.
“What’s your safeword, Zoe?”
“Fireworks,” she said.
I smirked. “Fireworks it is. You’re going to count for me. Just five, okay?” Her hair shimmered like candlelight as she nodded. With my fingers still buried in her, I gave her the first blow.
She sucked in a breath. “Uh, one!”
“Good girl.”
Her shoulders pushed back a little, as though she were preening at my praise. They stiffened with the next smack.
“T-two!”
“Wonderful, Zoe. You’re doing so beautifully. Now, do good little girls make others worry?” I bent over to kiss the blazing warmth on her rear.
“N-no. Oh god, three!”
That one surprised her. My entire body was clenching along with her. With one hand I shoved my pants down and stepped out of them, sighing when I was able to finally wrap my hand around my cock. Zoe moaned, her head twisting around to look at me. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glassy and her lips dry and dusky from biting them. She looked absolutely fucking wanton. It was amazing watching her ascend to what would surely be an explosive orgasm.
My impatience was climbing, so much so that my next smack to her ass was weak and poorly controlled. The slip in my discipline made me frown.
“Will you disobey me again?”
“No. No, sir.”
Again.
“Four!” Her intonation rose at the end, like she was asking a question and now waited for a response. She’d have an answer soon enough.
Taking a deep breath to regroup and focus, I curled my fingers against her plumped up G-spot.
“Oh shit, noooooo!” she wailed, her legs and arms trembling underneath her.
“Are you ready to be done?”
“Yes. No. Please!”
Zoe was pretty fucking close to being completely undone, at my doing. She was so beautiful. I needed to be closer to her. I gave my cock a hard, promising squeeze, then landed my final blow close to where my fingers were inside her.
“Fiiiive! Oh fuck!”
She flew, her body quivering and juices running down her thighs. Overwhelmed, she dropped on to her forearms, her hips still tilted toward me.
“No, I want more. More. Please.”
Her words and breath were ragged and broken—as was my self-control. I lined my cock up to her spasming cunt.
I hesitated. “Zoe, you can use your safeword, you know.”
She pushed back to welcome me. When I entered her, her walls were still rippling. Oh fuck.
“Oh god, Nathan. I’m still coming!”
My hands smoothed over the top of her ass before digging into her hips. I screwed my eyes shut as I thrust into her three, four times before exploding.
Maybe it was the foreplay. Maybe it was my own frustration. Maybe it was Zoe. In any case, I felt my orgasm from the backs of my thighs to my ribcage, almost seeing spots from the intense pleasure.
Yeah… fireworks.
9
Nathan
“What did you think of the fireworks the other night?”
I blinked at Marcus as we met at the front door of Settlement, the restaurant where our book club was held. Silas Warner, the club’s de facto head, gave it to his ex in their divorce. I’d seen Marcus at the party on the Fourth. Honestly, what came—notably Zoe and I, a few times—before I went home had been rendered meaningless in my mind.
“Same old, same old.” I shrugged.
Marcus Blake was like a self-help guru for the Millennial set. Only a few years older than me, he’d amassed a fortune by basically telling shit like it is, and prodding people to “get shit done or shit will be done to you.”
Everything about Marcus was dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, olive complexion—in many ways my total opposite. When we first met the previous summer, he called me Surfer Boy because my hair had been tipped with blonde from a trip to Hawaii. I kept my hair a little longer and shaggier partly to piss him off.
The restaurant was fairly busy. We waved to Maggie, and she gestured for us to just go back to the private chef’s table where we usually met. Through winding hallways and a couple of doors, the private room made it feel as though we were in a speakeasy or some secret mobster hangout. That impression was not lessened by Silas waiting for us like some self-important mafia don.
“Shit, this guy’s mise en place is sloppy,” he grumbled, pointing at the open pass to the kitchen. I leaned over to peer through and spotted a red-faced guy in whites looking like he was about to crap his pants, or chop off a finger.
I snapped my finger to get the guy’s attention, then gave him a friendly smile and waved my middle finger toward Silas. Message sent and received. My good deed for the day.
“Silas, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a nice thing about the kitchen staff here. Why the fuck does Maggie let you even walk through the door?”
“Because I gave her the best sex of her life.”
Marcus rolled his eyes at me as we took a seat around the small stainless steel table. “According to you,” he said drily. “I personally wouldn’t fuck you. You’re too temperamental and probably selfish in bed.”
“Fuck you.”
“I just clarified that it wasn’t going to happen, Warner.”
My head was aching. “Children! Can we just enjoy a nice dinner, regardless of the subpar prep, and talk books?”
Marcus was cool and collected, and Silas looked like he was about to strangle someone. So, all was normal. They both nodded.
Silas sighed, pulling the giant bottle of hot sauce from the far corner of the table, near the pass, and placed it in the center. The hot sauce was our “talking stick”—whoever wanted to speak had to grab the bottle. “Looks like it’s just us tonight,” he said, “so we might as well get started. Initial impressions of Lolita?”
I squirmed in my seat, wishing for Viktor’s presence. He could go off on some tangent about Russian literature and mid-century modernism so I wouldn’t have to talk. I’d begun the book, but hadn’t finished it since Zoe moved into my apartment and life. Something about an older man lusting after a younger girl inappropria
tely related to him… just rubbed me the wrong way. Go figure.
“I’ll begin,” Marcus offered. We waited as he pulled an old secondhand paperback out of his man-purse. I slid the hot sauce in front of him.
A plate of something that looked like zucchini fritters was slapped down at the pass for us to nibble on. Marcus flipped through the pages, the dark slash of his eyebrows drawing together in a vee.
“Well?” Silas reached for the plate while we waited for Marcus to collect his thoughts.
“Okay, the big question—is it great literature, or is it kiddie porn?”
“Marcus! Yuck!”
“Sorry, Silas, but she’s twelve years old. That’s inappropriate pretty much anywhere.”
I tilted my head. “So, at what age would her seduction become ‘appropriate?’” I asked with air quotes. “Sixteen? Eighteen?” Twenty-one and just graduated from college?
“Well, if she manipulated and suckered him in, does her age automatically make her a victim?”
“It automatically makes him a predator.”
“Why?” Silas asked before finishing off the last fritter.
The bottle of hot sauce was flying across the table as we all spoke. I should have known that a book that was essentially about sex would push buttons. Sex and money were the only two things we all had in common.
Marcus snorted. “You honestly think she had the maturity, the agency to know what the fuck she was really doing, when she’d barely sprouted tits?”
“Again, yuck.”
I shared Silas’s grunt of disgust. I chose this over an evening watching movies with Zoe? If the food here weren’t so good, I would leave. Maybe I’d ask for more and take home a doggy bag for her. Maggie would let me. She’d probably even encourage me to bail, just to piss Silas off.
Silas grabbed the hot sauce. “So Humbert is guilty of what, exactly? Pedophilia? Plain old fornication? Lolita put herself on a platter, like forbidden fruit, and he’s not supposed to act on a basic male fantasy?”
Marcus frowned. “Is it basic? Who here wants or wanted to deflower a girl much younger than them? Let’s see a show of hands.”