by Marie Force
“I told you not to move.”
“Did you… You didn’t just…”
“Yes, I did, and I’ll do it again if you can’t behave.” As he speaks, he caresses the heated area on my bottom, which only makes the throb between my legs sharper. Leaning over me again, he says, “Have you ever been spanked, Honey?”
“N-no.”
“Oh damn. I get to be your first?”
Before I know what’s happening, he has me over his lap, my bottom in the air as he rubs the oil deep into my cheeks, running his finger down the crease that separates them.
Though I’m outraged at the thought of him spanking me, I’m so turned on, I can’t find the words to express that outrage.
“This isn’t about punishment, baby.” He continues to caress and stroke and tease my most sensitive flesh. “This is about desire.”
All this time… Blake Dempsey has been right here, able to unleash a side of me I’d never known existed, the side that wants him to do all the things he mentioned and everything else he can think of. I want it all.
“What’re you thinking right now?”
“You tell me. You’re an expert at reading my mind.”
“I can’t see your face, so I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Tell me.”
I clear my throat and try to find the words. My Gran raised me to be a lady, and a lady doesn’t say the things I’m thinking to a man. I try not to think about what she’d have to say about what I said to him in the bar. “I can’t believe you were here all this time and I didn’t know…”
“What didn’t you know?” His voice is rough and gruff, and his cock presses against my belly, hard and insistent.
“That you were like this.”
“What am I like?”
“Passionate.” I lick lips that have gone dry while I waited to see what he would do next. “Adventuresome. Dirty.”
That last one has him laughing. “I’m dirtier than you can imagine. You think you can match me dirty for dirty, Honey Carmichael?”
“I think I want to try.”
“Fuck, that’s a good answer.” To reward me, he spanks my other cheek, sending a tingle of heat and need straight to my clit. Before I can recover, he spanks the other side, rotating back and forth until I’m a drooling, blathering mess of nerves and heat and sensation—and on the verge of coming again.
He follows each spank with a caress that sets me on fire. I had no idea whatsoever that my bottom is such an erogenous zone. His hands never stop moving, top to bottom, lifting, separating, dipping into the crease and pressing against my anus but never breaching me.
I can barely keep up with the barrage of sensations overtaking me as he leaves no part of my ass untouched. And then… I’m moving and landing face down again on the bed and, oh my God… Is that his tongue? On my… Oh God. Oh… He’s licking me there, circling my back entrance with insistent stabs of his tongue, and nothing in my life has ever felt quite like that—dark and forbidden and incredible.
“Don’t come,” he says as he holds my cheeks apart for his tongue. “No matter what I do, do not come.”
I try to reply. I really do, but my brain cells are completely fried.
“Honey. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” I say on a sob.
“Up on your knees.” He pulls at my waist, positioning me where he wants me, until I’m bent at the waist, my ass in the air and my weight supported by my elbows and knees. With my legs quivering madly, I feel like a wanton, brazen slut, but I can’t seem to care that I’m all but jamming my ass into Blake Dempsey’s face.
Oh dear God… Gran, if you’re watching over me like you said you always would, please take the rest of the night off. Please…
Chapter Four
I drag myself to work at noon on Saturday, and only because a family from Dallas has driven hours to Marfa for one of my Desert Babies custom photo shoots. What began as a lark has turned into a booming business, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to see my photo studio’s following growing so rapidly. Most of the time, I’m excited about my work. Today, I’m too sore and stunned and sleep-deprived and… I’m a hot mess, for lack of a better term.
In one long unforgettable night, Blake Dempsey has ruined my life. I’ll never have sex like that with anyone else. I know this because I’ve been with enough guys to attest that no one does it like him—and none of them can begin to compete with The Cock. Lauren was right about that.
I can’t believe I took that thing a second and then a third time, which is why I can barely move today without every tender part of me screaming in protest. The pain reminds me of when Gran signed me up for riding lessons, and I couldn’t sit down for a week after the first lesson. In time, I got used to the saddle, but if I had fifty years with Blake, I don’t think my body would ever become accustomed to or comfortable with that cock.
Hours after I crawled from his bed, a shell of the woman I’d been when I arrived, I can still feel him inside me. My muscles are still contracting. My clit is still pulsating with aftershocks on top of aftershocks. Surely this can’t be normal. Maybe I ought to call my doctor. Except what would I tell him? Blake Dempsey and his giant cock fucked me to within an inch of my life, and I’m concerned that I might’ve sustained internal injuries?
I can’t imagine saying those words to the lovely old doctor I’ve been going to all my life. He’d die of shock.
Before I unlock the studio for today’s shoot, I stop into the café next door for a tall cup of coffee and one of my friend Scarlett’s melt-in-your-mouth scones. In addition to aching from stem to stern, I’m also famished. Blake was right—burning all those calories between the sheets requires a lot of fuel.
“Morning, Honey.” Scarlett is always so damned chipper. I think it’s probably because she consumes coffee all day. That has to be it. She’s about my age, with a flawless complexion and long dark hair that she wears in one braid down her back when she’s working. “Or is it afternoon now?”
“Just about,” I mutter.
“You all right?” Scarlett leans in for a closer look, which has me taking a step back. “Is that…” Lowering her voice, she says, “Razor burn? Honey! I thought you’d sworn off contact with species who have to shave their faces every day.”
“I have. I did.”
Scarlett raises her brows, her dark eyes gone wide with shock. “Has someone fallen off the wagon? Your lips are swollen, too.” Leaning her elbows on the counter, she settles in for a good long gossip session. “Anything else swollen?”
Everything is swollen, not that I plan to tell Scarlett that. “Gotta go. Got a shoot in ten.”
“I want the dirty details!” she calls after me.
“Not happening,” I say to myself as well as the older man who holds the door for me.
“Pardon?” he says.
“Nothing.” I blame Blake for this. He’s not only got me talking to myself but to strangers, too. At the next storefront over from Scarlett’s place, I unlock the front door of my studio and switch the sign from Closed to Open. With each step I take toward my office in the back of the studio, every muscle in my body protests the Olympic sex-a-thon I participated in last night.
I’m still trying to process what happened in Blake’s bed, and it’s been two hours since I dragged myself from his warm embrace, got dressed and managed to get my car out of his garage without waking him. Or if I woke him, he didn’t come out to see me off, which is just as well. I’m not sure I’m ready to face him. Hell, I won’t be ready to face him a year from now after the things we did.
When he said “all night,” he wasn’t kidding. He finally took mercy on me around four thirty in the morning when I cried uncle after my seventh—or was it the eighth?—orgasm. I think it might’ve been eight. His reputation as a sex machine is well earned, that’s for sure.
I take a seat at my desk and wince from the ache that spreads from between my legs to my thighs and even my poor bum. He never did make good on his “threat�
� to take me there, but I know he wanted to. If we were to get together again, I have a feeling that might be on the menu, although I still can’t imagine how he’d ever…
Dropping my head into my hands, I can’t believe that I’m tingling with arousal at the very thought of something I’ve never even considered before last night. If he’s got me thinking about that—and actually wanting it—his sexual gifts extend far beyond his incredible “endowment.”
The bells ring on the front door, and I bite back a groan, hoping my clients aren’t early, because I’m nowhere near ready for them.
“Honey, where are you?” Lauren calls out, her voice echoing in the vast space that is my studio.
“Back here.” I should’ve known it would be her, coming to get the scoop along with the dirty details.
She comes breezing in, wearing an adorable tank dress that shows off her amazing biceps. My bestie is a gym rat of the highest order and could kick ass on most of the men we know, which she says is why she never gets asked out anymore. Not that that stops her from lifting just about every day. I’m envious of those biceps but not the discipline it takes to get them. Maybe if I were in better shape, I wouldn’t feel like I was ridden hard and put up wet last night. And this morning.
Looking absolutely gorgeous with her curly blonde hair in a messy bun and big brown eyes fully made up, she comes to the doorway of the office to take a good long look at me. “Well…” Rolling her hand, she begs for details.
“You were right. He’s all that and a bag of chips.”
“He’s all that and ten bags of chips.”
“Agreed.”
“So you had the big O?”
“I think I had eight big Os. I lost count.”
“Shut the front door! Eight? Holy shit, Honey!”
“I’m so sore, I can’t move, and I’m shooting twins today.” I groan at the thought of the workout awaiting me. My job is very physical when I’m shooting one baby. Two will about kill me today.
Lauren snickers. “So The Cock lived up to its reputation.”
“The Cock is a battering ram. My poor va-jay-jay will never be the same.”
“I remember that. The day after the first time was like losing my V card all over again. Hurt like hell. But after a while, I suppose you get used to it.”
“I can’t imagine ever getting used to that.”
“Well, Blake being Blake, you probably won’t get the chance to get used to it. He’s becoming more remote all the time. I worry about him—as a friend,” she quickly adds. “Did he say anything about getting together again?”
“Not really,” I say, recalling the conversation in his bedroom when he convinced me to spend the night.
Lauren sighs loudly. “I have a confession to make…”
“What?”
“When I encouraged you to proposition him, I was hoping to kill two birds with one stone.”
“How so?”
“I wanted you to finally get properly and thoroughly laid, and I was sort of hoping you might be just what he needs, someone he’s known forever who he can trust to let go a little with.”
“Yeah, well, he let go all right, but it was all sex and nothing more than a few moments of nostalgia about the playground years.”
“What about the playground?”
“He used to pinch me and make me cry, which he pretended to not remember, but of course he totally did. He said he pinched me because he liked me. Boys are so weird, and they grow up to be even weirder men.”
“He’s one of the good ones.” Lauren’s expression is sadder than I’ve seen it since my Gran died. “Losing Jordan messed him up permanently. It’s like he’s broken on the inside or something. It’s such a waste of a good man. He’d be a wonderful husband and father if only he could find a way to forgive himself for something that wasn’t even his fault.”
“It is sad,” I agree. “He’s a good guy who deserves better than the hand he was dealt by fate.”
“You didn’t… You know… Start to think…”
“No! I told you I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. It was just sex. I know that. He knows that. One and done.”
“Oh good. Phew. I was worried all night that you’d get so wrapped up in The Cock’s magic spell that you’d forget.”
“The Cock’s magic spell.” I sputter with laughter at her terminology.
“Is it or is it not a magical cock?”
“It’s quite magical in the moment. The day after?” I switch positions and nearly gasp from the shock of almost painful arousal that refuses to quit, even hours after I left his house. “Not so magical.”
“A hot bath with Epsom salts. That’s what you need.”
I nearly moan at the thought of my tortured lower half soaking in hot water, knowing I’m hours away from being able to do it.
“I’ll drop some stuff off on your porch on my way home. It’ll fix you right up.”
“You’re the best friend ever, but I blame you for my current predicament.”
“Your pre-dick-ament. Ha-ha. You loved every second of it. Admit it.”
“I really did.”
“I knew it!”
“It was like a light went on or something. I finally get why everyone else goes nuts over it.”
“Praise the Lord. She’s seen the light.”
“Yes, I have.”
“So why do you seem so bummed? I thought you’d be all euphoric and glowy today, but you’re not.”
“Glowy?”
“After eight orgasms, there ought to be a bit of a glow to you.”
“I’m not bummed. I’m…” I can lie to some people. Lauren isn’t one of them. “Okay, maybe I’m a little bummed.”
“Why?”
“Don’t get mad at me when I say I’m sad that all it can ever be is what happened last night. I knew that going in. You warned me. I warned myself. He even warned me. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing things were different, that he was different.”
She blanches. “Honey, you promised me!”
I hold up a hand to stop her from going off. “I know I did, and I still know the score. I only wish it didn’t have to be this way. That’s all. He’s so…”
“Perfect in every way except for the hole in his chest where his heart used to be?”
I sputter with laughter at her spot-on description, but just as quickly, my laughter turns to tears because it’s so true. I bitterly resent the tears.
“Oh, Honey.” She gets up and comes around the desk to hug me. “I told you not to do this. I told you!”
“I’m not doing it. I’m having a teeny, tiny pity party that will last an hour and a half max, and then I’m moving on. I swear.”
“All right.” She sighs again as she pats my hair like the mother hen she is where I’m concerned. As a girl whose mother left her at a church to be raised by strangers, I drink in all the mothering I can get. “I suppose I can allow that after what you experienced last night.”
She stays for a little while, long enough for me to mostly get myself together before my clients show up with a clatter and a bang and the ringing of the bells on the door. Why do they always make so much noise when they arrive?
“Showtime,” Lauren whispers. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. Losing myself in work for a few hours will help.” I call out to let the clients know I’ll be right with them.
“I’ll see you at Julie’s party tonight, right?”
“What? That’s tonight?”
“Yes, you dummy,” she says, laughing. “You knew this. We talked about going in on a gift for her two days ago, before you had your brain pickled by The Cock.”
“Oh my God! He’s friends with Matt! He’ll be there! I can’t see him! It’s too soon.”
“You have to go, Honey. Julie is one of your best friends, and Blake will be a perfect gentleman. You know he will.”
This conversation is being conducted in loud whispers so my clients won’t overhear us.
“How
will I ever look at him again and not think about that weapon he has in his pants?”
Lauren is laughing so hard, tears fill her eyes. “The same way the rest of us who’ve experienced the weapon do—we don’t look down. No matter what, don’t look down.”
“Don’t look down. I can do that.” I tell her what she wants to hear, but honestly, I’m wondering how I’ll look anywhere but down when I see him again. That party is going to be pure torture.
I wake up alone and feel oddly disappointed that she’s gone. Disappointment isn’t something I normally feel after a night with a hot woman, but Honey isn’t just any hot woman. She’s a friend, too, and our shared history makes her different. That’s exactly why I usually stay away from sleeping with women I grew up with in Marfa. I know them too well, but when a woman like Honey walks into a bar and asks me to fuck her, well, I’m only human, and she’s a freaking goddess.
I’ve always thought so, even in high school when I was in love with Jordan and planning to spend my life with her. Honey was the untouchable queen of all things Marfa High School—homecoming queen, prom queen, cheerleading captain. In other words, off-limits to mere mortals. And that was fine with me. From tenth grade on, I was completely enthralled by Jordan and didn’t give a thought to being with any other girl the way I was with her.
We were going to get married right after high school and have four babies—every two years for eight years. And then, when they were grown, we would travel and see the world. All our plans were shattered the afternoon a semi ran a stop sign, killing her instantly and injuring me so badly, I spent a month in ICU. For a time, the doctors told my parents to prepare for the worst.
I survived, but I’ve never been the same. I miss Jordan every day and have never stopped thinking about what might’ve been for us. I have no memory of the crash itself, but I have vivid nightmares in which my brain imagines what it must’ve been like, forcing me to relive the horror over and over again. That’s one reason why I rarely spend the night with a woman. Do I need the whole town talking about Blake Dempsey’s pathetic night terrors?