Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Chapter One
Bea ran down the stairs of her apartment where Terry was waiting for her right outside the door with the trunk already open. He tucked her bags in, and when she urged him to hurry he shot her a look that warned her he was dangerously close to a tirade.
She had hired him nearly five years prior as her assistant. The fact that he was also a freelance limo driver had been a bonus she hadn’t expected. Bea liked showing up at her gigs in a limo and didn’t think it hurt her image any. He grinned at her from the rearview mirror as he pulled away with enough speed to send her sliding along the seat. Bea had to admit he was the best friend she ever had.
“Don’t be a bitch, Terry, I know I’m running behind, no need to throw me around like that.”
He made a rude noise. “As if you wouldn’t love to be thrown around! And if you’re late because you were talking to Mr. Could-be-a-Psycho I will be a bitch.”
They both laughed and she scooted up closer to his window so they could have a normal conversation. Oil Slick, a quarterly Dallas business magazine, had hired her to take pictures for an interview with Landon Sebastian. He was reportedly one of the richest men in Texas and had just acquired another oil company from some tycoon in Oklahoma. It was the highest paying job she had ever landed and she had worked damn hard to get it. Being late was not an option.
“I wasn’t talking to him. I overslept because we were talking late into the night.” She snickered when he rolled his eyes. “And quit calling him that because he’s in town on business this week. We’re meeting tomorrow evening for dinner.”
Terry looked at her dramatically. “In real life?” He snorted again and shook his head. “It’ll never happen, bet a Benjamin he doesn’t show.”
“You are officially a dick and I’ll take your bet. I’m telling you, Terry, there’s something about this guy.” She shrugged. “I need a minute before we get there. Now drop it, I’m nervous enough.” She laughed uncomfortably.
“Stop, Bea, you’re a hell of a photographer. Just go in there and do your magic.”
Bea slid back into the shadows and took a few deep breaths. After struggling to make a real living with photography for the past few years it was starting to pay off. As soon as her son had left for college Bea had closed her interior design business and went back to her first love. She had done some freelance work here and there for a few local online magazines but today’s job was her biggest yet. Her thoughts turned to last night’s conversation with Mr. D, who certainly wasn’t the psycho Terry was trying to make him out to be. When she had told him how nervous she was about today in their evening chat session, his distraction technique still had her blushing. She squirmed in memory of his effort to help her refocus and relax.
If you were mine, he had written. Bea’s heart had thrummed at those words, and when he continued, her body hummed along with it. I would pull you gently over my lap and trace the curves of your thighs with my fingers. I would push your skirt up to expose your sweet bottom and ask to remove your panties. A nod wouldn’t do, sweet girl, I would want to hear you say it. Not just give me permission, but ask me. When you were bare to me I would rub the palm of my hand over your skin. I would start with five swats, three lightly stinging slaps followed by two harder ones. Just enough to warm your cheeks and leave them pink. I would place my hand on your ass to feel the heat, rivaled I would hope by an even deeper warmth emanating from between your legs.
Is your pussy wet, Beatrice?
Yes, Sir, she had quickly typed.
Do you want more?
Yes, please.
In person, of course, I would want to hear your words to help me gauge how much more you can take by the quiver in your voice. If you ask me to proceed I’ll ask you to spread your legs open further so I can see the evidence of your desire. I’ll use your squeals and gasps and how wet and swollen your pussy lips become to guide my hand. Seven more swats, each one a bit harder than the last until your pretty ass is a deep red and your pussy is gasping and you’re…
“Bea. Bea, hey, did you fall asleep?” Terry’s voice jerked her from her reverie. “We’re here.”
Within seconds they were stopping and Terry rushed around to open her door. She pressed her thighs together and sighed, feeling flushed. She touched her cheeks and took a deep breath. Bea slipped out of the car with a grin and walked confidently into the tall building to meet with Justin Avery, the journalist from Oil Slick.
He introduced her to Mr. Sebastian, who was much older than she had expected but who was obviously still young at heart. The cheeky old gentleman flirted outrageously as she snapped a few shots to calm her nerves.
“You’re on the wrong side of that camera, pretty darling,” Mr. Sebastian drawled. “I’d be more than happy to switch places, what’d ya say?”
Bea grinned as she captured his saucy wink and shook her head. “Nah, I’m right where I want to be, but thank you kindly, sir.”
His laughter was low and wheezy and by the time he had pulled himself together the tips of his cheeks were pink and his eyes sparkled with glee. She snapped another picture and glanced behind her shoulder at Terry. Justin visibly relaxed and told her to give them a few seconds before joining them upstairs. As he was about to lead Mr. Sebastian away, the door opened behind her and the sweet old man guffawed; his booming voice carried across the lobby.
“Ha, there he is, the man I just swindled out of a fortune,” Mr. Sebastian yelled.
Bea was speaking quietly with Terry about what equipment she would need but couldn’t help grinning at Mr. Sebastian’s spunk as he spoke to the newcomer.
“You introduce yourself to the lovely photographer. See if she’ll show your good side.” His laughter had Bea completely relaxed in spite of her earlier nerves. “She’s an angel if I ever did see one, ya’ll come on now,” he added as he walked briskly toward the elevator with Justin.
Terry balanced her gear in his arms and nodded behind her. Bea slid her camera strap over her neck and turned to introduce herself to the man who was selling his company. She had a smile ready as she looked up. “Trust me, I’m no angel…”
“You sure as hell aren’t!”
Bea gasped and blinked madly. The man she had hoped to never see again stood staring at her as if he had seen a ghost. Terry looked from one to the other in concern and confusion. Bea could feel tears forming at the corners of her eyes and shuddered, shaking her head in denial.
“You have got to be kidding me.” He made a rude noise followed by a bark of laughter. “Angel. This would be funny if it wasn’t so damn eerie.”
Terry took her elbow and she nodded to let him know she was okay even though she wasn’t at all sure she was. The sound of his voice had sent her spinning back twenty-five years. Her mind sent her walking through the door of that dark little tavern once again where the sexiest man she had ever seen turned toward her from behind the bar, whistling. Well, hello, angel, what can I get ya? She shook her head again.
“What the hell are you doing here, Brandon?” She stared at him dumbfounded. Her only consolation was the same look of shock on his face.
“I could ask the same thing.” He ran his hands through his hair, which was still a golden color somewhere between blond and light brown. The silver strands only added to his good looks. She rolled her eyes and bit her lip. Terry stepped forward clearing his throat.
“Excuse me.”
“Terry, Brandon,” Bea said curtly.
“Husband?”
“No!”
“No!”
Their denial sang out in unison and one corner of Brandon’s lip tilted. He spun on his heels and headed to the elevator. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Holy Jesus, Mother Mary of God!”
Terry’s mouth fell open then snapped shut. “What the hell is going on, Bea?”
“An old college acquaintance, don’t worry about it. Just help me, please. Don’t make me have to speak to him again.”
They moved toward the elevator and Terry nodded back at her over his shoulder. “Okay, I’ll do what I can, but you owe me a story.”
She nodded and trudged along behind him. No one said a word in the elevator. It was the longest six-floor ride Bea had ever taken. Finally she was able to lose herself behind the camera. She took pictures of them behind the desk, signing papers, handing over the check, shaking hands, toasting, and so on. Mr. Sebastian kept the atmosphere light and Terry kept himself firmly between her and the tall, brooding man she thought she wouldn’t have to face until the fires of hell claimed her. The conversation in the room penetrated her fog. Mr. Sebastian’s words sent alarm bells through her.
“You ride along with the photographer, Brandon. Let Justin and me wrap this interview up.”
Brandon stood frozen across the room as the other two men walked out the door. Bea grabbed Terry’s arm and whispered harshly.
“What the hell just happened?”
Brandon spun around and pinned her with his whiskey-colored eyes. It took all the focus she could find to hear Terry’s stage whisper back. “Sebastian wants pictures at the jet Mr. Angry over there sold him and we’re driving him to the airport.”
Terry turned to gather the equipment while she and Brandon stood locked in silent combat. They once again made the uncomfortable elevator ride. Terry hurried ahead of them to put the gear in the trunk and open the door. Bea had barely slid in when Brandon practically shoved her over to climb in beside her. They eyed each other. Neither of them spoke for a long few minutes. Bea could see Terry keeping an eye on her in the rearview mirror. She didn’t know if she should be grateful for his concern or embarrassed he was there to witness this unwished for reunion. Brandon opened his mouth again and Bea prayed for restraint.
“I don’t remember you ever having your mouth closed this long.” He winked at her crudely. “It’s quite the opposite of what you majored in back in college, isn’t it?”
“I majored in stupid decisions, present company not excluded.” She laughed in his face, refusing to let the barb get to her.
“Jesus. You haven’t changed a bit, you damn brat. That mouth of yours still makes me want to bend you over my knee and spank your ass.” His eyes held her captive. “Just like I did the last time I saw you.”
“Yeah, right before you threw me on the floor and forced yourself on me!”
In a heartbeat every bit of air and sound had been sucked from the limo. Bea pressed herself back against the seat, knowing she had gone too far.
“Excuse me?” His voice was tight and shook with anger. She watched him clench his fists. “You sure know how to bend the facts, angel.”
She looked everywhere but at him and happened to see Terry’s very concerned look in the mirror. “Alright,” she moaned, almost sorry. “It wasn’t… that. But you’re even more arrogant and insufferable now than you were then.”
He reached across the seat and pulled her close, his tawny eyes snapping. Her lips parted. “Why don’t we tell the truth about it, Beatrice? You were begging for it, and if I had ten more minutes with you right now, you’d be begging for it again.”
“Fuck you, Brandon.”
“Exactly, Beatrice, exactly.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She bit at him and he laughed.
The car came to a stop and Bea pulled herself away. Terry opened the door and Brandon slid out then turned to offer her his hand.
“I think I can manage, thank you.”
He jerked her across the seat and she raged at him. “A Neanderthal has more manners than you, you son of a …”
He yanked her from the car and spun her to face him, pulling her onto her toes until their faces almost touched. “Behave.”
He let go of her abruptly and she stumbled. He groaned and rolled his all too familiar light brown eyes, as if dealing with an annoying child, then pulled on her arm until she was steady. When he walked away she took a few minutes to change the lens on her camera to give herself some breathing room. Bea was shaking from anger, or at least she told herself over and over it was anger. If there were more intense feelings, she didn’t want to explore them. She pasted a smile onto her face and took some pictures of them outside the jet and on the stairs. Sebastian wanted pictures inside but Brandon and Justin talked him out of any more photos. Bea assured Justin she would have them edited and sent by the next afternoon. She squealed and batted her eyes when Landon kissed both her hands with a leer then nodded curtly to Brandon before rushing away. Justin could damn well give him a ride back. She had worked so hard to leave those days behind and Brandon Davis in particular. She had to get away from him with her secrets and regrets left buried in the past where they belonged.
Chapter Two
Bea managed to put her explanation to Terry off until morning and she was thankful to be alone with her thoughts. She wished she could speak with Mr. D right now, but he had already told her he wouldn’t be online until the next afternoon. He was going to check with her at 3:00 to see if she still wanted to meet. Not that she would tell him what was swirling inside her. Actually, now that she thought about it, she was glad he wasn’t there. The last thing she wanted was for Brandon to cast a shadow over what she hoped she could have with Mr. D. It was the strangest thing she had ever experienced, feeling so close and intimate to someone she had never even seen. Other than the general height, weight, and coloring and the one unspecific picture each, they knew next to nothing about each other’s looks. That aside, he knew more about the real her than anyone. After eight months he had finally insisted they meet if she was serious about the things they had been discussing. She had hesitated for exactly three seconds before agreeing.
Bea wandered to the kitchen, looking around her simple apartment, proud of what she had made of herself. Her perseverance had been rewarded throughout the years and she had been able to squirrel away a nice nest egg for herself. Bea poured a glass of wine and smiled ruefully; she hadn’t done so badly after all, despite the childhood predictions she had endured. She never would have guessed her year of bad behavior in that little dive bar would eventually bring her here to Dallas, on her own, and happier than she had ever thought possible. The memory of the terror she felt when she found out she was pregnant right before graduation always made her cringe, now more so than ever. She never expected to fall in love with the tiny baby growing inside her, but it had happened almost immediately, so she did what she had to do. She graduated and ran. Bea found a job in a small museum back home and raised her son on her own. When he was in middle school she took a job helping someone decorate their house and it turned into a business. She had worked toward giving Gordy a good life and had never looked back. She sure as hell didn’t want to start looking back now.
After a quick shower Bea lay in bed hoping against all odds sleep would come. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, all six feet something of him. Broad shoulders and legs like carved pillars. Age had softened him around the middle but not much. And those eyes… those damn eyes. Bea blinked rapidly and turned on her other side. She closed her eyes and snuggled into her pillow but there he was. Bea sat up and slammed her fists down on the bed on either side of her. She intended to reach for her phone to call Terry and beg him to come over with cigarettes and gin. Instead her hand came into contact with the bag of red licorice she always had on hand. She sat in the dark eating rope after rope, thinking maybe if she allowed herself to remember it would purge him from her mind.
She had been angry, mostly hurt if she were being honest. A sad breakup from a cheating bastard had her feeling a lot less confident than she was comfortable with. She had walked into that bar looking for trouble. The sexy bartender immediately gave her the attention she was craving with his low appreciative whistle.
“Well, hello there, angel, what can I get ya?”
He was gorgeous. Older, but not by more than five or six years, and his eyes traveled up and down her scantily clad body as she walked toward him. She ordered gin with a cherry, which made him laugh. It was dark. The spare light in the room was focused more over the lone pool table than anywhere else. There were three tables with two or three chairs at each and four booths covered in dark blue vinyl. She scanned the room nervously from the bar. There were only a handful of other people there, mostly older rancher types and middle-aged truck drivers. The jukebox in the far corner was the brightest thing in the room and Bea was drawn to it. She asked the sexy bartender for quarters and he finally introduced himself.
“I’m Brandon.” He took her hand and folded her fingers around as many quarters as she could hold. “I’d call you angel but I bet your name is as pretty as you are.”
Bea blushed and lowered her eyelashes, pulled her hand away slowly then grinned and flounced away. “Angel will be fine,” she said over her shoulder with a grin.
They talked with innuendo-filled banter for so long Bea lost track of time. They agreed about most things but arguing about the things they didn’t gave Bea a surge of excitement. Brandon liked country music so she played Boyz II Men just to watch him squirm. Their back and forth went on until Bea was crazed with lust for him.
At last call he asked her how she was getting home. She hoped he was about to take her home with him but to her surprise he called her a cab instead of letting her drive. He took her hand and walked her to the door where they waited for her ride. As the car pulled up in front he pushed her hair out of her face, spun her around, and sent her on her way with a little pat on her bottom.
The next morning when she went back for her car, the bar was locked and deserted. Bea was both relieved and disappointed. He made her nervous but she knew she was coming back. Two nights later she walked in wearing her favorite jeans and a silky white top covered in tiny butterflies, held up by thin straps and her natural curves. She grinned when he whistled and held his hand out to offer her the same seat she had occupied before.
“Damn, angel,” he said as she slid up onto the stool. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
Bea laughed to give herself a minute for composure. He already had her flustered. She nodded when he pointed at the bottle of Tanqueray. He made her drink and set it in front of her with a smile. She put her finger in the glass to poke the cherry under the ice and then into her mouth, sucking lightly. He moaned and turned away from her.
Their hands touched so many times over the next few hours she was almost on fire from the charge rushing through her at every brush of his fingers. She waited for everyone else to filter out, hoping to end the night in his bed. Instead Brandon kissed her all the way to the door of the cab. His hands rode up under her shirt until his thumbs were running teasingly over her hardened nipples. He closed the door of the cab with a deep groan and turned briskly away.
And so began a push and pull of volatile proportions. For weeks they whirled around their attraction. It was fun and Bea found herself liking him for his personality more than as an escape from her pain. She had thrown herself at him at every chance but, other than quite a few heavily charged, fondling make-out sessions, he had treated her with more respect than she deserved. Or wanted. Bea shuddered now to remember how she had behaved and youth was no excuse. It was all fun and games while she had his full attention. Inevitably, late one Saturday afternoon, the door opened and a tall redhead rode in on a ray of sunshine. Brandon turned and whistled, tossing the towel over his left shoulder, and sauntered toward her.
“Well, hello there, angel, what can I get ya?”
Bea felt all the blood in her veins turn to ice, moving sluggishly through her with a heavy message she almost couldn’t bear. If George’s recent betrayal hadn’t triggered memories of her father’s infidelity she might not have reacted so dramatically. It sent her into a spiral of self-destruction. She was convinced women were interchangeable, like Cracker Jack toys, fascinating for the moment but easily replaced by the next little surprise. She drained her glass and smiled, remembering just why she had come in here in the first place. Just that minute she was startled by the very deep voice of a man behind her.
“Brandon! This beautiful lady is sitting here with an empty glass and that’s a damn shame. Maybe I lucked out when you turned your back on your family duty; if you can’t even run a bar right you’d bury our father’s company in a month.”
She turned toward the voice with a soft smile. Bea remembered thinking, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” She leaned forward to take his hand and give him a sweet view of her cleavage. “Thank you so much, how sweet of you to notice.”
Brandon set a fresh drink on the bar as she turned back and the tall man took the stool beside her. Brandon’s irritation was palpable. “What are you doing here, what do you want, Tex?”
“A beer, thanks, boy.”
Bea nearly burst out laughing at the look on Brandon’s face. He was furious and she immediately loved the tough old man at her side whose eyes were an icy blue. They spent the next few hours talking. She pouted at him and touched his leg so much she thought his dick would burst out of his jeans. He might have been in his mid-forties but he was still a very good-looking man and she ate his attention like salted caramel. Brandon split his time between glaring at Bea and purring at the redhead. They watched each other in the spotted mirror behind the bar like enemies. Bea drank too much and spent a lot of time at the jukebox. She kept her back to the room, choosing song after song, swinging her hips to the music. Finally, when she was certain she had everyone’s attention, she would dance back toward the bar. Brandon yelled, “Last call” and Tex offered her a ride home. She sipped at her drink and shot her eyes at him, looking him up and down. Before she could even answer him Brandon was around the bar taking her by the elbow. “Your cab’s here.” She heard Tex chuckle as Brandon led her away, then he called out, “I need your decision about coming to work with us, boy. I’m not getting any younger.” The muscles in Brandon’s jaws snapped and Bea allowed him to lead her quickly and silently to the cab.
She had continued to haunt Brandon’s bar but refused to resume their friendship as it had been. Now and then she would get a cab home, but many times she left with someone, someone who made her feel special and sexy in the moment. That old high school reputation she had worked so hard to hide from had finally run her down. She was living in a fog of self-loathing and need for attention. When she was almost at her lowest, the cheating ex suddenly reappeared at her door and pulled her into his arms. He was apologetic and teary-eyed at how much he missed her. He was also drunk and urgent, his hands kneading at her back and ass as he spoke. It was easy to fall back into bed with him. Bad decisions always seemed to be the easiest for her to make. Before the sun had even risen she caught him sneaking toward the door. He was again apologetic, but for waking her. She barely heard his rushed words, “drunk… didn’t know what I was doing… no hard feelings.” She had been furious at him and ashamed of herself. By the time the sun was sinking she was dressed to stun and heading toward Brandon’s. The only thing she knew how to do right was surround herself with admirers, drink, and dance until she was dizzy.
It was a relatively slow night at the bar. There were only seven or eight regulars hanging out in the shadows. She had nearly all of them hanging on her every word as she took one after another on in pool. The music was thumping and they kept her glass so full she had no idea how much she was drinking. It took her some time to realize she was suddenly penned in by them. Their hands were all over her; she heard her shirt rip. There were fingers squeezing at her breasts and thighs. She twisted and shoved at their hands but as soon as one was pushed away it was replaced by another. Bea felt someone pulling at her panties. Her squeals of protest were drowned out by the music and their laughter. She screeched as she was snatched backward then realized it was Brandon’s arm around her waist. He cleared the bar with one word then spun back to her furiously.
“Are you insane, Beatrice? Do you have any idea what they were going to do to you?” He shook her and she tried to pull away. “No, look at me. Stop it,” he roared as she struggled. “You need to be locked in a room. You need your ass spanked and to be locked in a damn room.”
Bea slapped at him. “Are you blaming me for what just happened? They attacked me, Brandon, I’m the victim!”
He pulled her against his chest and trapped her arms at his sides. She felt his heart hammering. “Yes, that’s true, but you put yourself in this situation and you know it. If I hadn’t been here… Damn it, Bea, do you realize what could have happened to you?”
“Damn you, damn you,” she screamed at him. “What do you care?”
Try as she might she still couldn’t remember any of the words he said to her after that. She could only hear herself telling him everything was his fault. Then he kicked a chair out, sat down heavily, and hauled her over his knee. Her tiny skirt was no barrier to his bare hand. He gave her three stunning swats. She screamed at the affront of the sting.
“Be quiet,” he yelled, “be quiet and listen to me and I’ll stop.”
She shouted obscenities at him. He laughed and trapped her legs with one of his. He pressed his hand against the small of her back, holding her firmly.
“That’s what I thought. You want it as much as you need it.”
Bea shrieked in outrage, berating him with incoherent words. His palm came in contact with the back of one thigh and then the other, two more swats to each cheek of her ass had her trembling in confusion. She was angry but the moisture pooling between her legs was undeniable proof she was aroused as well.
Her squeals had turned to gasps and moans. Brandon rubbed the warmth of her skin as he whispered words she wished she couldn’t hear because she couldn’t deny them.
“Jesus, Beatrice,” he said gruffly. “You’re so natural, so real. You’re enjoying it as much as you hate it.”
He bared her even further by pushing the edges of her panties between the cheeks of her ass and all she could do was gyrate against his thigh. His chuckle rumbled throughout his whole body and she felt it vibrate through her own. She groaned in protest at her own feelings and the need he was creating.
He began his stinging torment to her ass again. She could see a portion of him in the tall old mirror on the far wall and she watched his profile as his arm rose and fell over and over. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as he pulled her panties down to her thighs for better access. The panties stretched tight made her feel even more trapped and embarrassed but her body arched and wiggled under the onslaught. She moaned and yelped and finally started to cry.
“Please, Brandon, I’m sorry,” she begged. “Oh, please, that’s enough.”
She could feel the muscles in his thighs harden and release as he spanked her. Her breasts felt heavy and full as they bounced and swayed with each full-handed swat. Just when she thought she could take no more he slowed his rhythm. His palm just barely brushing against her burning skin had her arching and moaning.
His eyes met hers in the mirror and she gasped at the look of barely controlled animal lust on his face. Her bottom burned and she ached for him in a way she couldn’t explain. Her thoughts came to a crashing halt when he gave her two more stinging swats as he watched her face in the mirror. Tears streaked down her face, her mouth opened to scream but she quickly bit her lip and kept it to a deep moan.
He gently pushed her off his knee until Bea knelt on the floor in front of him sniffling. He shifted in the chair and leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees but not before Bea saw the evidence of his own arousal. His cock was hard and straining against his tight-fitting jeans.
“Do you think you can behave now? And I’m not just talking about tonight. You’re too good for this. Stop behaving like a tramp.” Bea fumed and started to defend herself but he pulled her close by the back of her neck. “I know exactly what you do. You think they don’t talk about you?” He grabbed her chin and rubbed his thumb over her trembling lips. His laughter cut like a knife and her face burned in shame. “You might not spread your skinny little legs for them, but you’re playing a dangerous game nonetheless.”
Bea shrieked and swatted his hand away from her mouth before trying to slap his smug face. He grabbed her arm and yanked her against his chest. “You want another spanking, don’t you?” He started hauling her back across his lap.
“No, stop it. Don’t you dare!” She pulled away from him and swung again. This time he grabbed her hair and covered her mouth with his. Bea melted against him, clinging to his shoulders and he laughed. She went wild. He trapped both her wrists in one of his large hands and bit her mouth. Pushing her to the floor while yanking at his jeans, he kissed her hard and bit at her neck and shoulders. Brandon muttered against her skin as she squirmed the rest of the way out of her panties. Bea was breathless and panting, her lust was charged with anger. She moaned loudly and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
He rubbed himself against her. “I don’t believe you. Say it. Tell me you want this.”
She struggled against him and herself as well. She wanted to buck him off of her and scream no. But she knew without a doubt if she did he would stop. He would never touch her again.
“Yes… please,” she whispered hoarsely.
He bit her shoulder and pressed his hand over her mouth then buried himself inside her. He groaned loudly as his cock stretched her tight pussy and she scratched at his back, unable to scream. She was so wet he slid easily into her, but he was thick, and more than Bea had ever taken. She couldn’t stop herself from lifting her hips to meet his thrusts.
He bit her neck, shoulders, and the tops of her breasts. She had never felt anything like it in her life. Her bottom burned from the spanking and tears formed in her eyes as his delicious thrusts caused her tender cheeks to rub against the hardwood floor. She moaned, digging her nails into him and arching her back.
Bea wrapped her legs around his hips and whimpered into his hand. Her orgasm sent spasms through the muscles of her slick pussy and he grunted, wrapping both arms around her and lifting her ass to angle even deeper. She cried out as another wave of electricity soared through her belly.
He squeezed at her stinging ass cheeks while his cock jumped inside and filled her with warm spurts of cum. For long seconds Brandon held her close, breathing heavily. She thought she felt him kiss the top of her head but knew she had imagined it when he stood and looked down at her sadly, pushing his still hard dick into his jeans.
“I’m sorry. Go back to school, Bea. Graduate. Get out of here and make something of yourself. There’s nothing here for you.”
It was the last time she had ever seen him and she hoped it was another twenty-five years before she saw him again.
She forced her mind out of the past and grasped at a hopeful future. She allowed Mr. D to fill her thoughts and fell back with a sigh, placing her hand on her belly, which was queasy from licorice and memories.
Mr. D had asked her early on if she had ever been spanked and she had been as honest as possible. She had told him it was a very long time ago and it hadn’t been a negotiated sort of thing. When he pushed for details she had told him the only thing she remembered clearly was the impression of need it had sent raging through her.
It had been her only experience but something she had never forgotten. Bea had told him how angry and affronted she felt at the time but also how aroused and intrigued she had been. She turned onto her side and sighed again; what she hadn’t told him was it had been the rawest passion she had ever experienced.
She pressed her thighs together and took a deep breath at the tingling in her clit. She was wet and horny but her thoughts were all mixed up. She wished now she had a clear picture of Mr. D so she could touch herself and imagine him spanking her. But the ghost of Brandon Davis’s hands clouded her fantasies. Bea pulled the blankets over her head and willed herself to sleep.