Naughty Bedtime Stories: In Three Words Read online

  I nod. Even though I know that he can’t see me, I still comply.

  I always comply as I should.

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  The following bite to my lip sends a wave of pleasure racing down and over my erect nipples. It lowers even further, teasing the muscles in my stomach, and finally it settles in my wetness.

  I growl, I can’t help myself.

  He speaks without regret, “I see that you got started without me.” He knows me all too well.

  I close my eyes and slide two fingers inside, spreading myself wider and wider, but nothing would please me more than to have his aching strength penetrating me. His girth never relents; tears me open wide and sends me into frenzied animal every time. Powerful and demanding.

  Twitching with madness and forcing me to scream his name.

  His cock speaks for itself. It’s a hurricane of unreason. I willingly listen as a good girl should. I wrap my swollen lips around it as often as I can. As often as he allows me to. I taste his sweetness, beg for his release. Swallow his warmth and let it race down my throat. Pushing him further into me each and every time he graces me with his presence.

  I want to bury him deep.

  “Get on your knees,” he says in a low tone. The animal is showing, his beast that beckons me. It’s the part of him that I crave the most.

  I remove my fingers and resist the urge to taste them; he often asks me to after I finger myself to climax in front of him. My hips begin to buck, beads of sweat shimmering in the candlelight. I picture his hard shaft in his hand, slowly stroking himself and moaning as I arch my back and let him see all of me.

  I put on a good show for him, as he asks of me.

  I push myself up onto my knees and spread my thighs so easily against the black silk sheets. I don’t want to displease him.

  I whisper into the phone, “I’m ready.”

  “Are you?” he asks me as I hear the key turn in the lock behind me, the hotel door opens and he steps in. I can smell him, taste him in the air all around me, but he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have too and it would ruin the sweet surprise if he did.

  I feel the bed move, and he glides up behind me. Spreading his thighs and pressing up against my ass. I reach back, and he quickly grabs my wrist. His touch is rough, but I desire it. He jerks my hand down and then the other. I feel the rope binding them together behind my back. I look down, and he places his hand on my long black hair and grabs a fistful of it. He jerks my head back as I cry out. I won’t speak until spoken to. He is in control, and I have willingly surrendered.

  He pulls his rock hard cock out of his dress pants, and toys at the opening of my ass and then he slides the tip of it over my clit. He growls in my ear.

  “Beg me,” he says forcefully.

  I can barely speak without my voice cracking. The anticipation is torturous. “Fuck me.”

  “With this?” he asks me as he barely pushes the tip of himself into me. I nod, and he slaps me on the ass so hard that it leaves his handprint behind. I hiss. I can’t help it. The pain frustrates me and makes me want him even more. The sting lingers and then settles into my being. I accept it just as I accept him as he is. Every inch of him.

  “Speak,” he hisses back at me through gritted teeth.

  “Fuck me with your huge cock. Hurt me.”

  “That’s better,” he says as he starts to push it in. He stops and refuses to move forward. I moan and his mischievous grin curls the edge of his lip. He gently rubs his open hand over the welt on the side of my ass. He suddenly slaps me again as he shoves himself into me, burying it as deep as it will go. He grabs the rope that binds my wrists and pushes them up until I cry out in pain. Each thrust deeper, each rotation bringing me closer and closer to my ultimate release. Each time bone grinds against bone and I grit my teeth. I sound like a wounded animal and perhaps I am, but I own it, it doesn’t own me.

  He gets into a furious rhythm. He jerks his pants down to his knees, exposing his tight ass. His muscles ache and groan as he gives them a workout. He looks down and sighs, then fucks harder, jamming himself into me without a shed of mercy. I bite my lip so hard that I can taste the blood on my mouth, I lick it and then swallow. It sends me over the edge.

  “Fuck me! Take all of me! Yes!” I scream.

  He reaches up and shoves his thumb into my ass. I start to rotate my hips on him as he watches me.

  “That’s it baby, come on me, make daddy feel you, let me feel your tight pussy around my cock.”

  He grabs the back of my head and shoves my face into the bed. I can’t breathe, and I don’t care. The lack of oxygen heightens all of my senses and sets me on fire. I flex my fingers and my whole body trembles as I come so hard I feel as if I may die. Dying this way would be perfection.

  He pulls out of me and flips me over, he straddles my face and guides his cock past my waiting lips. I swallow him as he thrusts up and down without mercy.

  Because I want none.

  I swallow as he releases every bit of himself into me. He slows and then removes his shaft from my mouth. I try to follow, I’m not done yet. I want more, always more. He places a hand on my chest and pushes me back down with ease.

  “God Damn you woman, spread your legs for me,” he says as he lowers.

  My head falls back off of the side of the bed as I lick my lip, I can still taste him in my mouth.

  “Yes, daddy.”

  “Good girl,” he whispers to me as he gives me more.

  Have No Fears

  Lily Luchesi

  “Take off your clothes and shut the door.”--Buckcherry

  “Are you...drunk?” Nick Sanders asked, shocked.

  Victor Blane tipped back his fifth shot of the night, alarming his co-workers. “Not yet,” he replied. Indeed he did appear almost completely sober. That man had an amazing tolerance for alcohol.

  “What happened today, anyway?” his co-worker, Rick Kendrick asked, giving him a weird look. Victor rarely went out with the people he considered his subordinates. He was the son of Victor Blane III, the owner of Blane and Sons, Attorneys At Law. He was the superior of the three guys at the table with him, and he acted like it.

  “None of your fucking business,” Victor snapped, tipping his head back. The bar was nice, upscale and dark. He should have easily been able to lose himself in alcohol and idiotic banter from his co-workers, but he could not get his mind off of the ultimatum his father had given him that afternoon. It was an impossible case to win.

  “Look, we just want to help,” Ryan’s younger brother, Grant, said gently. Grant was the youngest in the group by five years, and a junior attorney, but he had a lot of promise under that country bumpkin facade he had. He was the reason Victor’s father had given him the case from Hell.

  “I don’t want your damn help with anything, Kendrick,” he snapped at the taller man.

  Grant shrugged, affable as anything. “Suit yourself.”

  “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, at least your new client is hot,” Rick told Victor.

  Victor was representing a huge manufacturer of electronic equipment. They were being sued for millions because something they made for a rocket for NASA backfired. It was their fault, plain and simple. Not even Victor, the best lawyer in the city, could get them out of this jam. Brenda Clemons was the woman who ran the company, taking it over from her father. She was pin-up gorgeous and had been in the tabloids as a teen for her wild antics.

  “Not interested,” Victor said.

  “What?” Nick said. “You’re joking. Right?”

  Victor gave him a dark stare beneath his long black lashes. “When have you ever known me to joke?” Good question, and he knew everyone’s answer would be “never”. He was a serious, often rude man. Loyal to a fault, but most people missed even that good side of him because he was, for all intents and purposes, an asshole.

  Nick and Rick had known Victor since college and were used to their friend’s disposition.

  Gr
ant had been introduced to Victor more recently, thanks to Rick getting him in the door of their firm. Victor hated nepotism, which is what he saw this as. Victor might have been the fourth generation of Blanes to be in this firm, but that did not mean he had it easy. His father put him through the ringer on a daily basis to ensure that he was fit to take over in the coming years. So for Grant to just get right into the firm so easily pissed him off.

  Grant was the complete antithesis of Victor, both outside and inside. The only things they had in common were dark hair and dark eyes. Grant was tall and strong, built like an Abercrombie model. He had wide eyes and an even wider smile. His disposition was like the weather in Los Angeles, bright and endlessly sunny.

  He was fair and honest, even in court. He never lied or even exaggerated. And he was quickly becoming one of the best lawyers anyone had ever seen. He was Victor’s only real rival. Victor had never even had a rival before. He was that good. To feel threatened by this newbie made his hackles go up like a hissing cat.

  Victor was tinier than Grant; Grant was 6’0” and Victor was only 5’9”, with sharp features and long-lashed dark eyes. He was handsome and had many women interested in him, despite his bad attitude, yet he had never gone on a date as far as anyone knew. The rumor was that he was so conceited the only person he would consent to date would be his clone.

  “Hey, Grant, who’s that?” Rick asked, breaking Victor’s train of thought. Everyone looked over to see a tall, willowy girl sitting at the bar, smiling at Grant.

  “Oh, Chelsea.” He waved her over. “I knew her in college. Her father is a client of ours, Senator Oxford.”

  Of course Victor knew the senator. He was one of the good guys, a bleeding heart liberal. They had represented his case against an illegal puppy mill and won. Or rather, Grant had won. It looked like he had won more than a case with the way Chelsea was looking at him.

  She was tall and slim, chic, and showing a lot of leg but looking very classy. When she came over and was introduced to everyone, she slid into the seat between Victor and Grant and leaned into the tall man with a gleam in her eyes, making him blush.

  Victor abruptly shot out of his chair, ready to get out of there before those two started slobbering all over each other. He was pissed enough; he didn’t want to sit through that.

  He heard Chelsea ask, “What’s with him?”

  “He’s allergic to happiness and fun,” Nick replied.

  “I have to work in the morning, you idiot,” he called before leaving. Work, safe and predictable. A place where he was in charge and got respect. A way to make his mind silence the thoughts of Grant.

  ***

  The next morning he was pulling his sleek black Camaro into the Clemons Corporation’s parking lot. He usually interviewed clients in his office, but he needed to go to them this time to see the part that had malfunctioned.

  He was let in by a secretary and taken deep into the building to a comfortably furnished break area for the workers. There was a special lounge for the higher ups, which was where he was going to interview Brenda Clemons.

  Before he knocked on the door, he heard two voices inside. One was shrill and whiny, making his head hurt already.

  “...And then we were going at it, right in his car. His car needed a cleaning, by the way. Do you know what happened then?”

  Another female voice laughed. “I can guess.”

  “No, you can’t!” the first whined. “Because nothing happened! He was not impressed, he was not even half-hard! He told me he wasn’t interested. I’m not his type. His type! As far as I know, any man’s type is a girl on top of him in the backseat of a car!”

  “Hey, calm down. So he wasn’t interested. Big deal. Plenty of guys will be,” the other woman said.

  “It’s not that. First of all, I’ve had a crush on him for seven years. Second, it’s a natural body function to get turned on when you’re kissed like I kissed him! So I confronted him and you will never guess what he told me!”

  Okay, this was getting ridiculous! He was not going to stand there while these two hens kept fucking clucking in there. He didn’t have all day!

  He knocked loudly on the door and a beautiful girl with curly light hair opened it. This must be Brenda, the genius-slash-sex addict. She certainly was gorgeous.

  “I’m Mr. Blane...your lawyer?” he said in response to her blank stare.

  “Oh, I am so sorry! My friend had a bit of a crisis and I lost track of time. Come in, come in.” She stepped aside so he would have to brush against her ample breasts as he walked.

  To his surprise, the girl with her was Chelsea Oxford, the girl who had been all over Grant the previous night. So Grant was either too stupid to know what to do with a girl or impotent.

  Chelsea gave him a very odd look and stood up. “I’ll text you. You have to hear this later; I mean really have to.” She left quickly, leaving both Victor and Brenda in confusion.

  “So, since I did not come here to find out Grant Kendrick has a type, can we move this along, Ms. Clemons?” he asked, taking out his notepad to write down pertinent information.

  He saw down and crossed one leg, straining his blue suit. He was completely unaware of how good-looking he was, no matter how many people told him. He was too concerned with his job to care about his sex appeal, but he saw how Brenda was looking at him. She did not have a good poker face.

  He began his routine questioning and that alone took over half an hour. He then asked to see the prototype of the part that they had given NASA. The workspace was nearly deserted but for a few engineers, and even they were too far away to hear anything.

  He wasn’t very good with technology, but he knew enough to know that this device should not have malfunctioned. Not if it had really been built the same way as the prototype.

  “Ms. Clemons, you might have a prayer to get out of this not only with your company’s integrity intact, but with your bank account intact as well,” he commented.

  Brenda’s soft hand touched his arm, and he felt her feeling his muscles beneath the fabric. “Thank you. Chelsea’s father recommended your firm as the best, so that’s why I hired you.”

  “We are the best,” he said. He was not being conceited. He was simply stating a fact.

  “She was really upset with Grant last night,” Brenda commented. “You know, we were friends in high school, he and I.”

  His mouth opened, poised to ask questions, but he snapped it shut just in time. This was not the time to let his guard down. “Do I care?” he snapped. “Kendrick is nothing to me but a subordinate. His personal life is none of my business.”

  Brenda cocked her head, smiling. “I warned Chelsea she wasn’t his type. Trust me, I know his type very well.”

  “Again, please tell me why I should care?” Victor asked, crossing his arms.

  “Because he wants you to,” Brenda said. “I said I knew his type, and I do. I’m looking at it right now.”

  ***

  Grant Kendrick got by in life by his good looks, kind personality and fooling people into thinking he was some simpleton, when in fact he was quite shrewd. That’s how he won so many cases, because the opposition thought he was too stupid to be a good lawyer.

  He was open and honest; kind and considerate. His heart was always on his sleeve, and he often got hurt because of it.

  He remembered being thirteen and his big brother came home from college one weekend with two friends in tow. He had been unable to keep his eyes off of the slight, toned and deliciously sexy man who seemed to be the leader of the group.

  The sharp planes of his face, the dark gleam in his eyes, even the way he wore his black hair in a sculpted spiky ’do transfixed Grant. His attitude was not a turn off. It rather gave Grant ideas and thoughts he had no idea were in his subconscious.

  After that day, he found out who Victor was and made it his goal to be the best lawyer he could be; to impress the impassable man and get on his good side. Possibly in his bed as well. He had been workin
g under Victor and his father for six months now, and Victor still didn’t pay him any attention except to call him names.

  What would it take? He hated the term “gaydar”, but he could honestly tell that Victor swung his way, so how could he actually get him to swing his way?

  He felt bad for hurting Chelsea’s feelings, but what could he do? He didn’t want her, and he was sure plenty of straight men did want her. He hoped he could smooth things over somehow.

  Work was slow that day and Victor Sr. was out of the office for a conference, so he, Rick and Nick were goofing off a bit, playing music and cracking jokes.

  That was when the door to the top floor--where the best lawyers had their offices--slammed open and Victor (his Victor) strode in, unconsciously oozing sex appeal with every step.

  “Hey, man, how’d it go with the Clemons Corp today?” Rick asked him.

  “Better than I could have expected. Now, please behave yourselves like the respectable lawyers you are before I fire each and every one of you.” His face was stone, but his eyes told a different story. Grant could tell there was something on his mind.

  “Kendrick,” he said, his dark gaze fixing on Grant and making his body do things that were very inappropriate for the office. “I need to see you after work.” With that, he locked himself in his office for the rest of the day.

  “Little brother, I think you’re in deep shit,” Rick commented.

  “Yeah, he looked pretty pissed. What did you do?” Nick wondered.

  It had to be about Chelsea. Damn it! Why hadn’t he just said he was too drunk? Not that he didn’t want her at all? Stupid, stupid, stupid! He felt like a fool, but he vowed that he would defend himself and her honor when Victor questioned him. He was sorry if she was offended, but not only was he gay, he was a nice guy. He’d never sleep with someone in the backseat of a car.

  When his brother and Nick left, Grant gathered his courage and knocked on Victor’s door, and he heard his raspy, sexy voice tell him to come in.

  He was seated behind his desk, diplomas and awards framed on the wall behind him. He had discarded his jacket and tie by then, looking as casual as Grant had seen him in years. His face was set in a frown, and he looked deeply troubled as he told Grant to sit.