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Simon Says

By Gillian Colbert Copyright 2011 Gillian Colbert Published by Black Door Press Contact Gillian at gillian@blackdoorpress.com Cover image courtesy of Luigi Diamanti and FreeDigitalPhotos.net Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Other Titles by Gillian Colbert Coming Out of Her Shell His Gift Forbidden Fruit

Simon Says

CHAPTER 1 "Watch out!"

The warning came just as he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of his townhouse, but it was too late for Simon. He barely had time to register her words before he was knocked flat. His ass hit first, quickly followed by his head as he tumbled back on the sidewalk.

The air whooshed from his lungs on impact and stars floated in front of his eyes as pain blasted through his skull. The rough concrete scraped his back through the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

What the fuck?

A rough, wet tongue began to lick his face and neck accompanied by the foul odor of dog breath.

The rasping licks tickled and Simon hollered as they increased in frequency. He only barely avoided being covered in dog drool.

"Oh, my god! I’m so sorry! He got away from me," a smoky, feminine voice said from a short distance away.

Simon couldn’t focus on the speaker because he was still being assaulted by the largest Pitbull he’d ever seen. The dog straddled Simon’s body so that they were practically chest to chest. It grinned down at him between licks showing large teeth and a long tongue. His fur was black with white patches on his throat, chest and between his eyes.

If Simon wasn’t already aware that Pitbull’s were misrepresented in the media, he’d owned one as a child, he might have been scared, but as it was he was just the victim of an over eager greeting. So much for the perception of these dogs as fierce, they loved people. A little bit too much as Simon’s rear end could presently attest to.

Simon reached up and gripped the dog’s muzzle, looked directly at him and said in a clear, firm voice, "Off." The dog moved off Simon, freeing him to stand. Once he’d regained his feet, Simon faced the dog fully and said, "Sit." The dog made as if to jump on Simon, but he quickly snapped his fingers loudly and snapped out, "Hey!" The dog settled back on its haunches and sat, smiling up at Simon with a huge doggy grin.

"How on earth did you get him to do that?"

At her question, Simon turned his attention to the frazzled owner only to be knocked flat once again.

This time by her. She was tall, almost his own height, with a body that could only be described as luscious.

Her breasts were full and round and, at the present time, barely contained under the violet tank top she wore. Her hips were round and lush, filling out the tight denim capris almost indecently. Her hips were the kind a man could grab onto and not fear getting poked by errant bones. He was willing to bet her ass was just as sweet.

She was all softness and curves with clear skin reminiscent of cream dusted with cinnamon. Her hair was a warm, honey brown and her eyes were pale, crystalline green outlined in the deepest forest. Those eyes were currently dark with worry as she gazed at him.

"Pardon me. What did you say?" he asked, he’d been too caught up perusing her to register her question.

"I asked how you got Monster to respond to you. I rescued him about a week ago and I’ve yet to get him to obey me with out bribing him first."

"Monster?" Simon quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes," she grinned at him a bit sheepishly, "at first it was because he’s so big, now it's for his bad manners."

Simon laughed out loud at that. Her grin was infectious and he found himself continuing just to keep her there with him.

"It’s simple really," he said answering her previous question. "I just made sure I used body language and a tone of voice that let him know that I meant business. That I was the master here and he had no other option than to listen to me."

She quirked an eyebrow skeptically.

Simon grinned again, "I’m serious."

Her eyes went wide and she seemed suddenly embarrassed, "Listen to me quizzing you when Monster just knocked you down. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?"

She began feeling up and down his arms, circling around him and rubbing her hands over his back and chest. The unexpected contact sent blood shooting to Simon’s groin and his cock hardened in response. He grabbed her and pulled her up against him to stop her explorations. His cock jerked at the intimate contact.

"That’s not a good idea," Simon murmured against her ear, "unless you meant to do this to me."

Her body felt lush and warm. Her breath hitched as she leaned into him and her mouth opened slightly. She smelled of coconuts and chocolate. Simon drew in a deep breath losing himself in her scent.

Her breasts flattened against him as he inhaled and her nipples hardened under her tank top.

His erection pressed into the softness of her belly. Her eyes widened and her small, pink tongue darted out to lick her full, rosy lips.

"You especially don’t want to do that," Simon whispered. His lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear as he spoke and she shivered.

"Do what?" she asked breathlessly. Her voice was husky and she rubbed her face against his cheek, like a kitten seeking to be petted. Her skin was silky smooth and he couldn’t resist nuzzling into her neck and nipping gently at the skin there.

"Let me in," he whispered.

She gasped and leaned into him, moaning softly as she did so. Her head fell to one side giving him greater access to the delicate skin along her shoulder. Simon licked along her collar bone before nipping gently.

She jumped slightly causing the hardened tips of her breasts to graze against his chest. Simon grasped her hips and ground his erection into her, lost to the sensation of her softness cradling his hardness.

He wanted her naked and on her knees before him. He wanted those lush lips wrapped around his cock. He wanted to suck on those delicious nipples and hear her scream. He wanted to bend her over and fuck her as if…

"Woof!"

Monster chose that moment to remind them he was there and didn’t want to be ignored. Before Simon could stop her, she tore herself away from him, flushing the prettiest shade of red. The flush began at the roots of her hair and flowed down her body to her breasts.

She snatched Monster’s leash off the ground and ran in the direction of the townhouse next to his.

"Wait!" Simon hollered after her, but she ignored him bolting through the door and slamming it behind her.

Simon stared after her, unable to reconcile what had just happened. His cock stood at attention and throbbed at the loss of her softness. He was stunned. He never lost control of a situation let alone forgot where he was. He’d been two seconds away from stripping her down and fucking her on the sidewalk.

Who the hell was she? He hadn’t even gotten her name. Well, no matter, she’d gone into the house next to his, the same one that had been vacant until last week, so odds were good she was the new resident and that meant it was just a matter of time before he saw her again.

Simon wasn’t one for waiting when he wanted something, though, and he wanted to know more about such a delectable woman. It had been too long since any woman had held his attention let alone captivated it.

Ever since Trinity, his first person shooter video game, had blown up his senior year of college, Simon had become quite the local celebrity. Now six years and two sequels later, he was affluent and worked when he chose.

The town of River Rock, Vermont was small and his notoriety meant that he had no trouble finding women and the local university never failed to produce hot college girls looking to fuck a celebrity, however, small they may be. As a result, Simone was bored out of his skull and hadn’t had a serious relationship in over a year. Lately, he wasn’t even having sex. The effort required just didn’t appeal to him.

Simon didn’t go in for regular sex. He dominated in the bedroom and he expected submission. Total submission. Something he’d yet to find. Oh, sure, there were plenty of women who would bend to his will and let him fuck them three ways to Sunday, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Those women were meek with self-confidence issues and were submitting because they believed they deserved no better. Being with those women just made him sick after. He felt like he’d violated them in some way, as if he’d raped their psyche if not their body. After the last one, he’d sworn he wouldn’t get involved with anymore victims. He wanted a strong woman who was confident and who willingly submitted to him because it filled a need in her to do so. A need to have her control stripped and her body mastered. That’s what he wanted.

He stared at his mystery woman’s door with narrowed eyes. She was indeed a mystery. She’d been uninhibited in her response to him, rubbing against him almost as if she couldn’t help herself. Her scent clung to his skin even now. Coconut and chocolate, a taste of that sweet dessert wasn’t nearly enough. No way was he going to let her get away that easily.

# Gwen Caldwell stared at herself with disgust in the foyer mirror. It was one of her favorite pieces in the small two-story townhouse she’d just bought. The mirror was over-sized and leaned against the wall.

Painted gold and decorated with crystal blossoms of all different flowers, it was a veritable gemstone garden. She often joked that she felt like a fairy princess every time she saw herself in it.

She didn’t feel like a fairy princess today. No, today she felt like a slut. She’d practically thrown herself at that man. Her skin grew even more heated and flamed red as she remembered rubbing herself against him. She still couldn’t believe that had happened. Her mind had been on the promotion she was planning at her bead shop when Monster had just taken off without warning. He’d practically yanked her off her feet.

When Monster knocked the poor guy down, Gwen had felt just awful, but he’d been so gracious and so gorgeous with that chocolate brown hair and those sapphire eyes. They’d reminded her of the batch of glass beads she'd just gotten in. Let’s not forget those utterly delicious lips. He’d radiated pure masculine perfection and she’d been a bit non-plussed and had actually been interrogating the guy until she’d realized she hadn’t even checked to see if he was okay.

Touching him had been reflexive. She was a hands on person. She hugged and touched everybody, it was just her way. Her mother said she was tactile by nature and Gwen had to agree. Gwen felt blind when she wasn’t able to touch or assimilate the textures in her surroundings.

He’d caught her so off guard when he grabbed her, it had shaken her up and she hadn’t been thinking straight. Feelings and urges she’d though long buried had surged in her leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Being pressed against all that hard muscle and taut, silky man flesh had overwhelmed her and she’d responded without thinking.

His skin was unbelievably soft, especially for a man, and the lean steel of his muscles underneath had seduced her senses and left her reeling. When he’d leaned in to whisper in her ear and the silk of his hair had brushed her face, she’d just had to feel more.

The death knell for her dignity had been when he’d pressed his erection into her lower belly. The feel of his body ready and primed to mate with hers while he restrained her against him … Gwen’s breath caught as her belly clenched and moisture flooded her core. Her traitorous nipples tightened and poked out from her body like two huge beacons announcing her loose character.

Gwen dropped cross-legged onto the floor in front of the mirror as tears welled in her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. She was a good girl, she controlled what she did not anyone else and she was in control of herself. Wasn’t she?

Oh, god. Please let me never see him again.

A sharp double-tap sounded against her front door.

I guess not.

Torn between laughing and screaming Gwen squeezed her eyes shut.

The front door had a large stained glass cutout that clearly showed her front hallway. The design was abstract and had reminded Gwen of a kaleidoscope. The door had been what drew her initially to the townhouse, right now she cursed it. She knew exactly who she would see if she turned her head.

She refused to look up. It was childish she knew, but she needed a few more seconds before she could face him again.

Monster ran to the door, whining and snuffling at it. He came over and nudged her with his nose as if urging her to answer it.

"I can see you, you know," the man said through the door.

"I know you can," she replied back at bit peevishly.

"Then why don’t you open the door?" he asked with a laugh.

"I’m testing out the theory that if I ignore you, you’ll go away," she replied somewhat sullenly.

"It won’t work," he said, "so better for everyone if you just open your door."

"What if I don’t want to?"

"Sweetheart, open the door," his voice was deep and smooth the way she thought single malt scotch would sound if flavor could be heard. His voice drifted through her and settled deep in her tummy.

The urge to obey him was strong. She fought it.

"I’m not your sweetheart."

He seemed a little non-plussed at that. The silence on the other side of the door seemed to stretch for a long time before he burst out laughing.

"What’s so funny?" she demanded.

"Oh, Sweetheart," he leaned his forehead against the glass, "I haven’t wanted to get to know someone this badly in a long time."

There was another brief silence and then, from the corner of her eye, Gwen saw a thin white card slide under her door. She reached for it and was surprised to see it was a business card with just a name and phone number … Simon Cain, (555) 236-8654.

"Listen, that’s my name and number. I live next door here in the end unit facing the river," Simon continued.

Gwen squeezed her eyes closed and groaned softly. Could it get any worse? Not only had she thrown herself at a stranger, he lived next door to her and there wouldn’t be any escaping him.

"Sweetheart, you listening?"

She sighed heavily and finally looked up at him. "No," she said forlornly.

"No, you won’t have dinner with me or no, you weren’t listening?" confusion showed on his face.

"No, I wasn’t listening."

"So, you will have dinner with me?"

"No … I mean … what?" she just stared blankly at him.

"I invited you to have dinner with me tomorrow night."

"I don’t think that’s a good idea," Gwen said shaking her head.

"I do. And, I’m not taking no for an answer. After all, you owe me," he grinned at her.

"Owe you for what?" she cried indignantly.

"For knocking me down. My shirt has a hole in it now," he said with a mocking pout all the while laughing because he knew she knew he was playing it up for effect.

"You can’t guilt me into dinner," she said glaring up at him from the floor.

"Oh, I think I can," he laughed and his smile lit his face. Those sapphire blue eyes sparkled with mischief and he looked like the cat that had just gotten the canary.

"I’ll expect you at 8pm sharp tomorrow night. I hope you like Italian."

He disappeared from her sight then. How dare he order her to dinner! Gwen leaped to her feet and rushed for the door flinging it open, but she was too late. He was gone.

CHAPTER 2 Simon had just set turned the fire down under the marinara sauce so it could reduce when his doorbell rang. Adrenaline coursed through his body and his hand jerked. The top he’d been placing gently on the pan clattered down unsteadily.

He couldn’t believe it. He was actually nervous. His heart was racing and he took several deep breaths to calm down as he walked to the door. A quick look in the hallway mirror told him he’d managed to escape any telltale tomato splatters on his crisp white button down and jeans. Slacks would have been more appropriate, but then he always wore jeans. They were his uniform. For his part, Simon was dressed up. It was a date after all.

He took a steadying breath and opened the door. He shouldn’t have bothered. She was stole it right back. She was stunning in black silk. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a loose knot baring her neck. She wore a simple tube-styled top. It was strapless and appeared to be held up by a black satin ribbon tied in an artful bow over her breasts. There was a small cutout under the bow that showed the barest hint of cleavage. It was as if her breasts were a present just waiting to be unwrapped.

The skirt hugged her curves, flaring out just a bit at the hemline which hit just at her knees. Her legs were covered in sheer stockings and the stiletto heels she wore set off her long, shapely legs.

Images of those stocking clad legs wrapped around his body flashed through Simon’s brain and his body tightened painfully. He was grateful he’d picked his softest jeans because right now the weave of the denim was imprinting itself in the skin of his dick.

"Um, are you going to let me in?" she asked. That smoky voice wrapped around him. It was thick and honeyed just like her hair.

His cock jerked. Simon was responding like a horny teenager. He needed to get a grip on himself.

"First, we have some unfinished business," he said with a smile as he blocked her entrance into his house.

"Oh?" her eyebrows pulled together in confusion, but she waited patiently. Her green eyes scanning his face as if looking for something "Your name?" he said. "I still don’t know your name."

She flushed scarlet and Simon could resist a grin. She recovered quickly, however, straightened her shoulders and put out her right hand as if to shake his.

"Gwen Caldwell," she said almost authoritatively, but then a sheepish look crossed her face ruining the effect. "Sorry."

Simon took the hand she offered and brought it up to his lips. He grazed her knuckles in a soft caress of warm breath and velvet skin. He felt a tremor run through her and satisfaction coursed through him.

She was definitely affected by him and he would have her.

# Dinner was unbelievable. Gwen couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so well. She was a disaster in the kitchen, not that you could tell from the extra padding she carried, but she could barely boil water. Her usual dinner was salad and sandwiches from the sub shop next to her store.

Simon, however, had turned out a veritable feast. There were ravioli stuffed with chicken and spinach, a Caesar salad and French bread stuffed with cheddar and spices. The marinara was rich and spicy and complemented the pasta perfectly.

When pressed, Simon admitted that his mother had forced him to learn to cook. She had told him that it would get him girls and he’d naturally been all about anything that would get girls to notice him.

What he hadn’t realized was that his mother had ulterior motives which included his taking over dinner preparations as practice. He’d readily jumped to her defense, though, explaining how she had worked two jobs to take care of him after his father had died. His love for his mother showed in his face when he spoke of her.

Simon had proven to be an easy conversationalist talking readily about a variety of topics. He was clearly well read and loved music and active pursuits. Gwen found herself opening up and talking with him in a way that she didn’t normally do with someone she’d just met.

She was glad she’d decided to come. It had been a last minute decision. She’d resisted the idea giving herself all types of excuses, but then she’d realized that she was scared to come. And scared meant that she wanted to come. Gwen was many things, but she tried not to lie, especially to herself. She wanted to come and find out more about Simon Cain. The name had rattled around her brain ever since she’d picked up his card.

It was a hero name. Something you’d expect to find in Marvel comics. It had been a surprise to find out he designed video games for a living. With that name and body, she’d expected to find out he was an archaeologist searching for lost relics or a fighter pilot. She grinned inwardly as she realized her Harrison Ford crush was rearing its head.

"Gwen?" Simon looked at her expectantly.

"I’m sorry," she said giving him her full attention. "I was reflecting on what great meal that was. The best I’ve had in a very long time as a matter of fact."

"Thank you," he said with a courtly bow of his head. "I suggested we take our wine out on the patio.

I have an apple pie warming in the oven for dessert. It should be ready before long."

"I’d love that. Thank you."

Simon guided her outside with a warm hand on her lower back. His yard, like all of the yards on the block was gated with a privacy fence. The patio was tiled and had a large, wooden table and chairs with white canvas cushions on one side and a black and white striped wicker seating group on the other.

"Would you like to sit?" he gestured toward the bench with his wine glass.

"No," she said. "I think I’d like to stand for a while."

She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t want to be that close to him. The bench was just big enough for two and she’d be too close to him for comfort.

As it was, the intimacy of the setting was playing havoc with her senses. The moon was high and cast enough light that no candles or other lights were necessary. The shadows cocooned the edges of the patio, making her feel as if it was a stage and the night was the curtains sealing them away from the audience.

The memory of his touch burned her skin where he’d rested his palm. His touch had been firm and commanding and she’d instantly allowed him to take the lead. Her body still resonated from his touch.

Her nipples were hard peaks under the thin material. She was grateful for the darkness which hid her arousal.

Her thong was soaked and her intimate muscles clenched as an image of Simon sucking her nipples flared brightly in her mind. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as if she could draw strength from the night sky. She had to get out of here.

He was too sexy, too masculine. She found herself fighting to keep her distance from him and, frankly, he frightened her deeply. She knew that if she let him, Simon would rule her.

"You look like you’re thinking hard," Simon’s voice came from directly behind her and she jumped.

She hadn’t heard him move.

Flushing deeply at being caught thinking dirty thoughts, she turned to face him and said, "I think I’d better go home now. Dinner was lovely, but I have to get up early tomorrow."

She made as if to go around him, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her belly. She froze. Her pussy throbbed and her breath caught in her chest.

"You’re running from me," he pulled her into his body so that she was pressed fully against him. He caged her, wrapping one arm around her waist. He stroked her back with his free hand. The velvet touch of his fingers on her bare skin was electric and she gasped as little shocks of pleasure erupted in his wake.

His body was hard against her. The muscles in his arms flexed and moved where she gripped him.

Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her breathing sped up and her nipples, already tight and aroused, were softly abraded by the silk of her top. Pleasure speared through her, flooding her core until she felt dampness on the tops of her thighs.

"No, I’m not," her voice was a breathless whisper and her words sounded false even to her.

Simon leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss so light it was almost a whisper. When he spoke, his warm breath tickled across her lips in a caress.

"Yes, you are," he murmured. "Why are you running from me, Gwen? I won’t hurt you."

The sound of her name in his scotch flavored voice sent thrills through her body. Her name sounded erotic and lush coming from him, rather than silly and eccentric as she’d always viewed it.

"Yes, you will," the words slipped out before she realized she’d even said it.

"No, sweetheart," he nuzzled her lips, gently nipping and licking at her bottom lip. "I won’t hurt you.

I want you to feel only pleasure. Pleasure when I suck on your nipples. Pleasure when I eat your pussy.

Pleasure when I bury my cock in you and fuck you. Pleasure when you come screaming my name."

His words sent tendrils of desire arcing through her. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened painfully. He wove a spell of sensual heat around her with each word, each touch. Gwen felt her resistance falter.

He nuzzled her cheek and ear with just the tip of his nose. His cock was hard and pressed lightly against her. He ground himself gently against her as he swayed them softly to and fro in a dance to a tune only he knew. The friction was teasing. His hardness pressed just enough for her to be aware of it, but not hard enough for her to truly feel it. It was maddening. She wanted to feel the press of him. Feel that hard length that had been hinted at as he’d ground against her the day before.

"You want me, Gwen. Embrace it. I won’t hurt you," Simon’s voice was thick and gruff, but solemn as well. As if he was promising her something beyond his mere words, but she didn’t know what.

She did want him. She didn’t want to, but she did. Gwen strained to touch him more fully, but he restrained her keeping her from closing the distance between them. She moaned in frustration as she arched her body, brushing her erect nipples against him. The scrape of her nipples against his hard chest had her clitoris throbbing and her pussy clenching. His breath caught and she was gratified to know she had at least some effect on him.

Gwen could barely think. Simon invaded her senses. He teased her with the touch of his body, his male scent and intoxicating voice. He had barely touched her. His hand still stroked the skin of her back, yet he controlled her thoroughly and she burned for him.

She wanted him, wanted this, wanted to just let go and allow him to take her where he would. Do to her as he pleased. She didn’t want to think, she didn’t want to decide, she wanted only to submit and that terrified her.

She stiffened against him as sanity made a final attempt to penetrate the fog of desire clouding her mind. She vainly tried to pull away from Simon, but he held her firmly. His grip was gentle, but steely.

She whimpered as her captivity inflamed her need.

"Let go, Sweetheart. It will be all right."

Gwen lifted her eyes to his and opened her mouth to speak, but Simon pressed a finger to her lips to silence her.

"Shhh, quiet." Gwen obeyed despite herself. Simon traced down her neck and over the swell of her breast. He drew smaller and smaller circles until he came to the hardened peak. He traced the tip before gently squeezing it between thumb and forefinger. He squeezed just to the point of pain before stretching the tender bud out from her body and releasing suddenly so that the skin snapped back.

She moaned deeply as fire burned a path between her nipple and clitoris. He repeated the motion again and again. Gwen was drowning in pleasure. Her clitoris was swollen and protruding. The satin of her thong, once pleasurable, now scraped the tight bundle adding new waves of sensation to the ones Simon generated.

She panted as she struggled to stay afloat amid the waves of heat and pleasure coursing through her.

Simon licked into her mouth. His tongue plundered and explored. He tasted of wine and heat and need.

His kiss was gentle, a delicate teasing counter-point to the rough pull of his fingers. The sensations blended together, suffusing Gwen with an unexpected peace.

Simon broke the kiss and raised her chin so that she looked directly into his face. The moonlit darkness turned his hair the deep brown of dark chocolate and the sapphire of his eyes appeared almost ebony in the darkness. The look on his face urgent, but tender. Compassionate even.

"Give yourself to me, Gwen. Let me have you." The words were gentle, but no less a command as he leaned in once more to kiss her.

All thoughts of fleeing dissolved as the need to obey him overwhelmed her resistance. She needed this more than she was willing to admit. She hadn’t had sex in three years, not since Paul, and she was starved for physical intimacy. She shuddered as horrible memories tried to surface and she ruthlessly shut the door on that time in her life.

Simon set Gwen away from him, placing her at arms length. His gaze burned as he studied her body from head to toe. The air was cool after the heat of his body and her skin prickled. She was panting after his kisses and her breasts jiggled with the movement of her lungs. The silk caressed her nipples and she whimpered pleadingly.

"Show me your breasts. Unwrap them for me, but don’t remove the top."

She hesitated for the briefest of moments. In a dim recess of her mind, she recognized that she had one last opportunity to end this before it went any further.

"Now, Gwen," Simon commanded her. His tone wasn’t harsh, but neither was it gentle or coaxing.

He expected her to obey.

Gwen reached for the ribbons between her breasts and pulled. As the silk draping her body fell away, so did her resistance.

CHAPTER 3 She was breathtaking. Her skin glowed in the moonlight. The shadows on the patio served only to spotlight Gwen so that she alone was the star.

As the ebony silk fell away from her lush, full breasts, Simon released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. She had to agree to this. He’d never forced a woman and he wasn’t about to start, but he needed her like he needed breath in his body.

It had been so long since he’d had a woman, especially one that interested him and who clearly wasn’t a victim. Gwen was strong, funny and confident. She was fighting her desire for him and he wasn’t sure why. There would be time to delve into her secrets, but right now he just wanted her to accept that she would be his. More importantly, that she wanted to be his.

Whatever the cause of her resistance, she was fighting herself not him and it was critical that she give herself to him. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t take it. Some wouldn’t recognize the difference, but he wanted her submission not her defeat.

She stood before him patiently, the silk of her top pooled around her hips. She’d followed his directions exactly. Her nipples were pebbled and jutted from her body. Her eyes were closed and she panted slightly as she waited.

"Play with your breasts," Simon said. "I want to watch you touch yourself."

Again, she followed his instructions without hesitation. She began first to cup and massage her breasts. Her hands were small and her breasts spilled out of them. She began to rub and pluck her nipples.

Tugging gently, before squeezing and rolling them.

Without warning she sucked both pointer fingers into her mouth. She took the glistening digits and rubbed her saliva over the distended tips of her breasts. Simon’s cock, already hard, surged under his jeans and what blood remained in his body pooled in his groin.

She was magnificent. A heady mix of innocence and seduction wrapped in a delicious package.

"Come to me, Gwen," Simon held out a hand to her.

She moved toward him, her breasts swaying with each step. She placed her hand in his and he led her over to the heavy wooden table. When he’d bought it, he’d only thought about hosting backyard feasts with his friends, but he planned a feast of a whole different kind tonight.

He lifted Gwen and placed her on the table leaning back slightly on her palms. Her skirt slid up her thighs as she settled herself and he could see that she wore thigh-high stockings. Creamy skin glistened in the moonlight where moisture dusted her inner thighs. She was drenched.

Simon stepped between her legs, forcing them wide to accommodate him. He trailed gentle fingers over the tops of her stockings before stroking firmly over her pussy. The thong she wore was soaked and she gasped at his touch.

He needed to taste her. Simon sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. He suckled her in long hard draws and she cried out arching into his mouth and grinding her breast into him. He bit gently on the tight bud, testing her response to pain and she groaned, but didn’t pull away. The muscles of her inner thighs clenched around him as he nipped again. She liked it.

Simon turned his attention to her other nipple alternating between licking in short, tight laps and sucking strongly on the tip. He bit down gently on the nub all the while flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Gwen groaned deep and low and wrapped her legs around his body, grinding her pelvis into him.

This was exactly what Simon had hoped for, she was giving herself to him, and her responses were uninhibited and carnal.

Simon’s cock wept with the need to bury himself inside of her. His lower back clenched and his own breathing was harsh and loud in his ears, but he wasn’t rushing to the finish line here and he’d barely begun with Gwen.

Simon lifted his head and felt pure masculine satisfaction at the sight Gwen made. Her eyes were closed and her full lips were moist and slightly parted. Her breasts were flushed with heat and her nipples were swollen and berry red from his attention.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Simon cut her off with a shake of his head.

"I have only two rules tonight, Gwen, but if you break them there will be consequences. First, you may not speak without permission. You can make noise, just not speak. Do you understand?" he paused and waited.

In her position on the table, the moonlight shone fully on Gwen and he saw her eyes dilate and go wide as he spoke. She definitely liked the idea. Giving proof to his thought, she nodded.

"In addition, you may not move without permission. You will stay where I place you. Do you understand?" Gwen’s breath was coming in harsh gasps, but she merely nodded.

Simon reached between them and ripped her thong from her body. The satin tore and he flung it aside. Gwen gasped in surprise and then let loose a strangled cry as, with no ceremony whatsoever, he buried his tongue in her pussy. He thrust his tongue deep in her channel before licking up her slit in a warm, wet rasp.

The scent of chocolate, coconuts and feminine musk invaded his nostrils. She tasted sweet and dusky on his tongue and he lapped at her as if she were a lollipop he couldn’t get enough of.

Gwen mewled and purred and the muscles along her legs flexed and clenched, but she didn’t move.

She obeyed his every direction though it clearly cost her to do so. A fine sheen of perspiration had broken out on her body and the sounds she made were rapidly becoming almost incoherent. He wanted her mindless and begging. He wanted to push her as far as he could and then send her over the edge.

Never before had a woman submitted so completely to him without him feeling like a pervert. Gwen didn’t just submit to him, she embraced her submission. It was as if the act of submission was in and of itself sexual for her. Simon could have come just from the noises she made.

He continued to suck and lick at her pussy. Her inner muscles clenched convulsively around his tongue and he knew she was close to her orgasm. He backed off and she made a sound of complaint, but Simon planned to be deep inside her when she came.

# Gwen’s reality had narrowed down to one focus, Simon’s tongue in her pussy. Only the warm, wet velvet of his tongue mattered as he stroked, sucked and lapped at her slit. His lips were soft and the silk of his hair tickled her inner thighs, but Gwen remained motionless.

The fact that she couldn’t move served only to heighten the sensations Simon caused. Every cell in her body was alive and focused on his touch. At first, she’d struggled to stay still, her muscles tight and stiff. Slowly, she’d relaxed as Simon’s dalliance with her body had played out. She’d given herself over to his mastery and reveled in her submission.

She embraced her lack of control. No more was she required to think, she had only to feel. For a woman as tactile as Gwen, she’d just come face to face with bliss. She was lost to it.

It’s not that she was apathetic and didn’t care what Simon did to her, not at all. She simply submitted and embraced that her pleasure was his own. He’d promised her only pleasure and when she’d realized he wasn’t doing anything to hurt her, she’d simply done what every instinct in her body had demanded … she’d given herself to him. What she’d received in return, however, she had no words for.

Waves of pleasure drenched her body. Her nipples were beacons of desire, so tight, almost pained, in her arousal. The night air had turned cool and a slight breeze caressed her swollen skin as if ghostly fingers toyed with the sensitive peaks.

Between her legs, Simon feasted on her pussy. Suckling and lapping at her as if she was the most delicious dessert he’d ever tasted. The sounds of him supping at her body were luscious and erotic and she never wanted it to end, but at the same time she wanted him to finish her.

Every time she reached for her orgasm he backed off only to begin again once her body had retreated from the ledge. She desperately needed a release. Her body quivered with need and she knew she’d be sore tomorrow simply from the control she had to exert over herself to obey him. The contradiction was lost on Gwen in her sexual haze. All she knew was Simon, his tongue in her body, his hands on her skin, his commands that she must obey.

Suddenly, Simon reared up between her legs. He yanked her off the table and turned her around so that she faced the table.

"Hands on the table," he growled in her ear in a voice grown guttural and deep. "I’m going to fuck you now, Gwen, but you still don’t have permission to move or to speak."

She heard the sound of a zipper opening behind her. The thought flashed across her mind that she was mostly naked and being ravished by Simon who was still fully dressed before rough hands pushed her skirt up around her hips. Simon’s hands were warm and callous roughened as he massaged and squeezed her buttocks. She was startled by warm lips and a sharp nip on first one buttock then the other.

She almost jumped, but managed to remain still.

Simon chuckled, "Good girl. My god, Gwen, you’re unbelievable."

Satisfaction at pleasing him flooded through her at his words, but all thought flew from her mind when he thrust his fingers deeply into her channel. A long, deep, drawn out moan of pleasure escaped Gwen without her realizing it.

"Like that do you?"

She didn’t dare respond, not even to nod her head. She heard him chuckle with pleasure.

"Very good, Sweetheart. Very good."

Simon’s fingers moved in and out of her slowly, languorously as if there were nothing else he wanted to do except finger her pussy. Her pussy dripped with cream and she felt it trickling down her thighs. She wanted desperately for Simon to fill her with his cock. She needed his hardness thrusting into her and taking her to completion.

She moaned and whimpered her need to him, but he just continued to finger her pussy. His fingers were large and strong, but she needed more. She clenched around his fingers involuntarily as tension grew in her body. With each thrust he touched something inside her that she’d never felt before. Each stroke zinged through her like the scrape of a match on flint. Sparks flew, but the flame stayed just out of reach.

Just when she thought she could stand no more, she heard the distinctive rip and roll of a condom being applied. For the barest instant, Gwen felt the slick coolness of the latex puddle at her entrance before Simon thrust himself fully into her.

Gwen groaned deeply. It was an almost animal sound of pleasure, pain and need. Simon stretched her fully. He felt long and wide and too big for her unused pussy. He never relented. He pushed deep and held himself there as she slowly stretched to accommodate him.

He soothed her with gentle hands that roamed and massaged her body all the while murmuring nonsense words of comfort to her. His touch soon turned heated, however, as if he couldn’t help himself.

He was still much too big for her, but rather than soothe, his touch once again only inflamed her need.

He palmed and massaged her breasts with an urgency heretofore unseen in him. He toyed with her nipples, pinching and tugging on them repeatedly so that it was if he plucked the stings of pleasure that connected her nipples to her clitoris. The tension in her body was growing tighter and tighter. She couldn’t relax. He allowed her no release, no pause from the tidal wave of pleasure he was building in her body.

"Gwen." Simon groaned her name, "You are so fucking tight." He ground his hips into her as he spoke.

She felt the silky sac of his balls rubbing against the tender skin of her thighs. The hair on his legs and groin was soft and gently abraded her ass as he pressed into her.

Finally, Simon pulled out to the tip and teased her with small, thrusts as he slowly, so slowly pressed his cock back inside of her. Again, he pulled out to the tip and again he played and dallied as he thrust inside of her.

Simon ravaged her pussy in slow, gentle strokes. He played in her hole, dallied in her cream. He slow-fucked her as if only his cock and her pussy had any value, any meaning in the universe. He owned her pussy, branding her as surely as if he’d touched her with red hot iron.

She quivered with the need to join in his play. Her body pulsed and thrummed with ecstasy. Every cell, every heartbeat, every breath was saturated with Simon’s possession and she felt as if she’d explode if he didn’t allow her release.

"You want to move don’t you," Simon whispered behind her.

Gwen didn’t respond she wasn’t sure if his question represented permission.

"You may answer me," he took her shoulder in his teeth and bit down. Gwen shuddered in pleasure as the pain he caused magnified the pleasure in every other part of her body.

"Yes, yes. Please." Her fingers dug into the table as she struggled now to maintain her stillness.

Simon didn’t answer her immediately. He pulled his cock out to the tip and held it there pumping just the head into her in short, rapid thrusts. For long moments, he teased her before saying, "Do whatever you want to, Sweetheart."

Gwen exploded. She impaled herself on his cock over and over in hard, deep motions. Her breasts bounced violently and her head jerked and lolled as she pounded against him.

Simon grabbed her hips and joined the ride. He pounded deeply into her. She grunted and moaned as he rode her hard. Simon pounded relentlessly into her never letting up, never abating. Each thrust pushed Gwen further and further to the edge of an ecstasy she was sure she’d never experienced before.

His cock was her world in that moment. The velvet steel filled her completely, riding her savagely and she knew utter joy as he did so. Her orgasm spiraled in on her closer and closer, but just out of reach.

Gwen was panting so hard her vision dimmed from the lack of oxygen. She whimpered in a wordless plea for release.

Just then Simon squeezed her nipple and smacked her swollen, protruding clitoris hard. The sting sent shockwaves through her pussy and tipped her over the edge into mindless pleasure. Gwen twisted and writhed as ecstasy assaulted every cell she possessed. Shrieks of pleasure assaulted her ears and she only dimly realized it was her screaming as waves of pleasure broke over her.

Behind her, Simon pressed deep into her convulsing pussy as he shouted his own release. His cock shuddered and jerked deep inside her and he ground into her as if he couldn’t get deep enough before he finally collapsed across her back. His breathing was as harsh and as ragged as her own and Gwen took some small comfort in that fact.

Slowly, Gwen came back to herself. Simon still sprawled across her and his weight was comforting.

His cock slipped wetly from her body leaving a trail of her cream down her thigh where it rested. Simon began to press gentle kisses to her neck and back. He stroked her skin, but she was too sensitized to bear it and she whimpered.

"Shhh, baby. It’s okay," he whispered. "Just flow with it, you’ll come down soon."

Gwen wasn’t sure he referred to. She only knew that her body felt sensitized as if each nerve ending had been exposed.

Deep in the night a car horn blared. The sensual fog Gwen was in shattered and reality flooded in.

She stiffened under Simon as humiliation and self-disgust flooded her. What was she doing? She had just proven Paul right. She was nothing more than a slut. A depraved pervert. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t bear to look at Simon.

Simon felt the change, but mistook it for discomfort from his weight.

"Am I too heavy?" he levered himself up off of her.

Gwen refused to look at Simon as she yanked her skirt down and quickly retied her top. She looked around wildly for her panties, but couldn’t find them in the shadows. Never mind, she didn’t need them.

"Gwen," Simon grasped her hand as she’d turned toward the house. "What’s wrong?"

She pulled out of his grasp, still refusing to look at him. "I have to go."

"Why?" confusion resonated in his voice.

"Just, please, let me go," she couldn’t keep the shame and humiliation out of her voice.

"Gwen, talk to me," his voice was gentle and firm. He clearly expected an answer, but she resisted her need to obey him.

"No, I’m leaving. Please just leave me alone."

Simon reached for her again, but this time Gwen was faster. She turned and fled.

CHAPTER 4 Plaster flew as Simon’s fist connected with the wall in his hotel room. It felt good to finally release some of his frustration. It had been three weeks since Gwen had run away from him. Three weeks in which he hadn’t been able to talk to her, see her or communicate with her in any way.

He still had no idea why she had run out on him. He’d chased after her, but she hadn’t gone home, she’d gotten in her car and driven off. He’d waited for her for hours, but she hadn’t come home that night or either of the next two.

He’d gone by her shop, Beads N’More, but her assistant had informed him she’d taken a few days off. Stymied at every turn, Simon had been forced to back off when his own business had taken him to California and now London where he was currently vandalizing perfectly respectable hotel rooms.

The movie based on Simon’s video game, Trinity, and its companion novel written by his best friend, Adon Taylor, had just launched. Simon and Adon had been required to attend both the Hollywood and London premiers with a stop in between at E3, the Electronic Entertainment Expo for the release of Trinity IV. It was always good to be with Adon and his wife, Marlie. Adon was one of the few people he could relate to honestly and without reservation. This time had been hard though. Adon and Marlie had been married for three years now and were expecting their first child. They’d announced the news at dinner that first week.

Simon was thrilled for them, but it called into stark relief how lonely he was. They were a great couple affectionate and communicative despite a significant age difference. Marlie was 10 years older than Adon and she’d had a difficult time in the beginning adjusting to it. Adon and Simon had helped her get over her resistance with a very pleasurable afternoon just before Adon and Simon had graduated from college where Marlie had been their English professor.

Adon had fallen hard for the saucy little professor and he’d not taken no for an answer when she’d thrown up roadblocks to their relationship. Simon had thought the relationship had finally succumbed to their differences when Adon had shown up on his doorstep about two years in, bags in hand, needing a place to crash.

Much to Simon’s surprise, Adon had walked out on Marlie because she refused to marry him citing their age difference. Marlie was convinced that Adon would wake up one day and realize he needed someone much younger than her. She also thought he’d want kids and she was too old for babies.

Adon had told her in no uncertain terms that if she didn’t know how he felt about her after two years of living together then she was just being obtuse. As for kids, he’d gone on, if they were blessed so be it, if not then he knew of worse things than spending your life with a woman you adored. He’d further gone on to let her know she was acting like an immature child because she was just scared and being a coward because of it. He’d packed and left and told her to find him at Simon’s when she grew up.

It had taken two days, but Marlie had come knocking on his door dressed in one of those erotic school girl outfits with a dunce cap on her head. Simon had taken one look, burst out laughing, and promptly checked himself into a hotel room for the weekend. They’d been married two months later.

He loved them both dearly, but being around them right now was a slap in the face when the woman that he knew was his had knocked him flat like a condemned house. He was frustrated and cranky at feeling so helpless.

After Gwen's assistant had shut him down, Simon had gone to Gwen’s website and gotten her email address. She wrote a helpful tips column about crafting bead jewelry and her email address was posted for her readers.

He’d begun an email campaign to get her to talk to him. He’d emailed her several times a week for the last three weeks only to hit a blank wall. She hadn’t responded to even one. For all he knew, she’d blocked his email address and his messages were just going out into the ether.

At first, his emails had been pleas for Gwen to talk to him. He all but begged for her to let him know why she had run away from him. He’d told her how much he wanted to get to know her, how much that night had pleased him, but he’d gotten nowhere. Over time, his email had morphed without him really being aware of it.

Adon and Marlie always invited him to spend time with them, but he was too raw after Gwen’s rejection. Ironically, he found himself writing Gwen and sharing his thoughts and observations on his experiences with the Hollywood celebrities and the gaming junkies at E3.

The night he’d spent with her had been … peaceful. He’d felt at peace in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Talking to her had been natural and he’d found himself opening up and sharing things with her that he normally only talked with Adon about. The sex had been mind blowing, but it was the conversation he thought about most. Talking with Gwen had been one of the most intimate experiences of his life and he wanted more. He wanted her.

Simon had sent his last email tonight though. He couldn’t go on with no response from Gwen. He’d exposed himself and poured his heart out to her and he’d gotten nothing. Only the fact that six months of code for his next video game, something completely outside the Trinity franchise, resided on his hard drive had kept his fist in the wall rather than the laptop.

The offending machine sat on the hotel desk staring at him mockingly. Every time he sat down, he hoped for an email from Gwen and every time his email was from everyone but her. Tonight had been no different. He was heart sore over it, but she’d made herself very clear.

Simon sat at the desk to shut down the laptop. He bumped the mouse when he sat down and the screensaver evaporated. A small envelope icon flashed in the system tray. He had new email. His heart leapt in his chest just as it had done every other time, but he no longer expected an email reply from Gwen.

Simon maximized his email client and steeled himself for disappointment.

# She was an idiot. She shouldn’t have responded, but his last email had been so sincere she'd felt compelled. She’d almost answered so many times. She felt so bad about running away from him and he’d been so confused.

She couldn’t blame him. She was too. When she’d run, she’d only thought to get as far away from Simon as she could. She gotten in her car and headed to her parents' house. When she’d shown up they’d welcomed her, no questions asked, just as she’d known they would. Her dad had hugged her and told her that as long as she was promising that she hadn’t been hurt in anyway, he wouldn’t pry. She’d promised.

It was true after all. No one had hurt her, she’d destroyed herself.

She'd hidden in the comfort and love of her parents for two days before she had the courage to go back home. Her father had collected Monster for her after she’d come home and Monster had been spoiled and coddled by her mother. He was even more rotten now, but Simon had been right and she was working on how she interacted with him. He listened more often than not.

Relief had warred with disappointment when she’d returned and Simon had been gone. She had steeled herself for a confrontation with Simon. They were neighbors after all and she wasn’t going to be able to avoid him forever, but he’d been gone and hadn’t come back.

She could tell he was traveling because his Jeep was still parked in his usual spot, but no one was home. Given that she was off the hook for an undetermined amount of time, Gwen had tried to return to her normal life. She shouldn’t have bothered.

Nothing would ever be the same now. She couldn’t stop thinking about Simon or their night together. He’d been so easy to talk to and she’d felt strangely close to him, as if he wasn’t holding anything back. It had made it easy to reciprocate with the same level of openness.

That was probably why she’d succumbed when he touched her. Her guard was down. She hadn’t been worried about her darker tendencies getting the better of her. She’d been a fool. No sooner had she dropped her guard then she’d proven to be nothing more than a depraved slut.

Tears flooded Gwen’s eyes as she thought about what she’d allowed herself to do. It had been three years since she’d allowed any man to touch her. After her disastrous relationship with Paul, she hadn’t been willing to risk herself again.

She’d dated Paul for two years. He’d been only her second lover. Gwen had always believed that sex was the physical manifestation of the emotional bond between two people and should not be taken lightly.

She’d been a virgin until she was 19 years old and had given her virginity to Charlie Porter, her high school sweetheart. The relationship hadn’t survived separate colleges, but she’d never regretted her decision. She’d loved Charlie as only a teenager could and they’d ended amicably.

Paul had come into her life her last year of grad school. She’d taken some time to work in her father's accounting firm before returning to get her MBA. She’d always dreamed of opening her own store for jewelry making supplies specifically beading. She’d decided to get an MBA, write a business plan and get a small business loan to do so.

Not surprisingly, in retrospect at least, she’d been furious at the time, no one wanted to finance a 25 year old with no prior experience who’d never had so much as a credit card. But, her father had generously loaned her the money, making her cry when he told her how much he believed in her, and she was proud to say she’d repaid him the final payment six months ago.

Paul was the lawyer she’d hired to help her incorporate the business. The attraction had been immediate. He’d been dashing and debonair with blond hair and green eyes. His athletic build had lent him a lazy grace that had heated her blood and the way he had looked at her had made her breathless in the face of his obvious desire for her. He’d been 15 years her senior and to be wanted by such a mature and successful man had been intoxicating.

He’d wined and dined her and treated her with such care. He had been a perfect gentleman, seducing her with drugging kisses, but never pushing, never going further than kisses and light petting. He told her over and over how beautiful she was, how he wanted only to please her if she would just give herself to him.

At first, Gwen had been a little shocked when he described how he wanted to master her. She was familiar with BDSM, but only in the passing general knowledge type way, not with any real experience.

Paul had made it sound as if she was really the one in control because his goal would be her pleasure and only through pleasing her could he please himself.

He’d played on her ignorance and lack of experience. He spoke to her in graphic detail, deliberately arousing her only to deny her any actual physical gratification. He claimed that he could only satisfy her truly if she submitted to him. After many weeks of what had obviously been a very deliberate and planned seduction, Gwen had given in.

Gwen wanted to please people. She loved putting a smile on people's faces. It made her day when she made someone happy. That was her nirvana. She was no pushover, she knew how and when to draw lines and she did so readily, but her relationship with Paul had reached a point where she was crazed with sexual frustration and feeling guilty because Paul acted so sad when she expressed her hesitancy at allowing him to master her.

Looking back, Gwen knew that her hesitancy had actually come from a sixth sense letting her know that something was not right with her relationship with Paul. But, that’s why hindsight is 20/20 and foresight is blind.

The first time with Paul had been wonderful. He’d demanded she obey his every command and the orgasm she’d had as he’d made love to her had been amazing. He’d praised her and told her she was wonderful and he loved her. Each time they’d made love, he’d been more and more demanding, pushing her limits of what she was willing to do to please him.

Gwen had reveled in her submission. She was pleasing the man she loved in the most elemental way possible. Somewhere along the way, something had changed. Paul praised her less and less and became more critical. Sometimes, she’d catch a look crossing his face that she could only describe as disgust.

After sex, Paul would practically run to the shower to wash up, leaving her feeling as if she’d infected him somehow. When she tried to talk to him, Paul would tell her she was being silly and change the subject. She tried in countless ways to get him to open up with no luck. She tried to please him in bed, ensuring she followed every instruction to the letter. It didn’t help.

Finally, Gwen had decided to throw caution to the wind and confront Paul. She planned to demand answers and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She’d gone to Paul’s house to surprise him with dinner. She had a key because he traveled often and she took care of his plants and mail when he was gone. She’d never before used it when he was home without his permission.

She’d entered the house and come face to face with Paul’s naked ass. He had his back to her, but she’d been able to see the face of his secretary all too clearly. Stacy had been on her knees with her mouth shoved full of Paul’s cock. Paul was in the process of coming in Stacy’s mouth, when Gwen interrupted them. He'd yanked back from Stacy and she’d never forget the sight of Paul’s come spurting all over his rug as she’d turned and left.

When Paul had finally caught up to her, he’d made it quite clear that he found her disgusting. That only a depraved, immoral slut would allow someone to do the things to her that she’d allowed him to do to her. He’d told her that if she’d had any true self-respect or morals she’d never allow herself to be used so poorly.

Gwen had been devastated. The man she loved with all of her heart was disgusted with her. She couldn’t argue the point. She’d allowed him to do anything he wanted to her without question. She’d loved pleasing him, doing whatever he wanted just to ensure his pleasure.

Gwen knew she had self-respect. She knew she had morals, but she couldn’t reconcile what she felt with his words when clearly she’d driven him away. Paul had left her there without looking back. She’d never seen him again, but that relationship had haunted her ever since. Every notion she had about herself had been shaken up and turned upside down. She no longer trusted herself.

After Paul, she’d tried dating a few times, but whenever a man got too close she froze up. She didn’t want a repeat of Paul. She’d get but so far into the relationship before her need to please him would surface and she’d become so afraid of seeing that same disgust that she’d distance herself and ultimately end the relationship. After just a few tries, she’d given up all together and thrown herself into making her store a success.

The night she’d spent with Simon had brought back all of the humiliation and shame she felt after Paul. Not while she’d been with Simon. What she’d experienced with Simon had been unlike anything

she’d ever experienced. She’d felt at peace the entire time she’d been with him. It was as if she’d reclaimed a part of herself she hadn’t known was missing, but when she’d come down out of her fog she could only see Paul’s face and the hatred and disgust in his eyes when he’d looked at her. She’d done the only thing she could think to do at that time … run.

She hadn’t been able to run from the memories though. She dreamed of Simon, dreamed of his touch, dreamed of his laugh. Most she dreamed of being able to see him again, but the latter was just that a dream. She could never face him after what she’d done.

Simon’s first email had come as a shock. She’d expected that after her behavior he’d never want to speak to her again. Her assistant had told her he’d been by the store, but she’d expected it would end there. His email had been simple, one line … "Why did you run?"

She hadn’t replied. She hadn’t deleted it either. She’d just moved it to her "Save These" file and tried to forget about it. Other emails had followed the first. Each one started the same … "Why did you run?"

Each had been filed away with no response.

The emails had changed over the weeks, becoming longer and more narrative. He seemed to be having a conversation with her. He’d told her funny stories about the Hollywood premier of Trinity and introduced her virtually to Adon and Marlie. He’d regaled her with his latest game’s success at the video game convention and shared his fears for the next game he was working on. It was a total departure and he wasn’t sure his fans would be receptive.

Within those letters, Gwen sensed a very lonely man. He seemed to be surrounded by people, yet he was talking to Gwen. His last email had broken her heart and she couldn’t leave him hanging any longer.

Even now, she felt compelled to read it again…

Gwen, I don’t know why I continue to write to you, you haven’t replied yet, but somehow you’re the only person I feel like talking to. I wish you would reply, if for no other reason to tell me what happened that night to make you run from me, so that I can forget about you.

The time I spent with you was the best I’ve had in more years than I can remember. It was truly a pleasure to talk with you and getting to know you. I respect what you’ve done with your store. I know how hard it is to go your own way. It’s a wonderful place. It was packed when I stopped by.

You must be very proud.

I don’t know, Gwen, but then I guess that is the real problem. I don’t know. I don’t know why you ran. I don’t know what I am hoping to accomplish sending these emails. I don’t know what I did wrong.

I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt you, but I obviously did. I never wanted to hurt you, Gwen, please believe that. I won’t bother you any more.

My deepest apologies, Simon

She simply couldn’t let him believe he’d done anything wrong. She’d replied, pouring out her story and telling him about Paul. It was easier than she’d expected, but that was because she didn’t have to look at him to do it. She didn’t expect him to respond, but at least now he’d know he hadn’t done anything to her.

Gwen read Simon’s email one last time and filed it away. She reached for the mouse to shut off her machine when her Gtalk flashed with an invitation. Simon.Cain was inviting her to chat.

Simon.Cain: Gwen? Will you chat with me?

Adrenaline shot through Gwen’s veins causing her hands to shake. Simon wanted to chat with her!

What the hell should she do? Her mind was completely blank. She had no idea how to respond.

Simon.Cain: Gwen. I can see that you’re online. Just chat with me.

Gwen took a deep, steadying breath and typed, "OK." Simon.Cain: Good. Thank you for finally replying. I am very sorry about what happened with Paul.

BeadLady_GC: I appreciate that.

Simon.Cain: I hope you realize that he fed you the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard, but then he sounds like an asshole to begin with.

Gwen was stunned. She had no idea how to respond. He thought Paul was wrong, that he was an asshole. Gwen couldn’t assimilate his words.

Simon.Cain: You still there?

BeadLady_GC: Yes, I’m here.

Simon.Cain: Do you expect me to believe that a woman as smart as you actually accepted that you were the one who was at fault for

him shoving his prick down another woman’s throat. Did you hold a gun to his head? Order him to get his dick sucked?

Gwen burst out laughing at the image. She laughed the laugh of the hurt and wounded. She’d carried the pain of Paul’s desertion for so long and so close, sharing with no one, that she’d never really considered it from any perspective other than Paul’s.

Simon.Cain: Have I lost you?

BeadLady_GC: No, you haven’t. I was actually laughing at the image you present.

Simon.Cain: It’s not an image. It’s the truth. Paul was a selfish jackass who took a gift you gave him and twisted it to use as an excuse for betraying you. Only a spineless coward does that.

BeadLady_GC: What makes you so sure of this?

Simon.Cain: Simple … who asked you to try out dominance and submission?

BeadLady_GC: ???

Simon.Cain: You called it mastery. Who suggested you submit to Paul in bed?

BeadLady_GC: He did.

Simon.Cain: Who demanded you do any of the things the two of you did in bed?

BeadLady_GC: He did.

Simon.Cain: Who lied and cheated?

BeadLady_GC: He did.

Simon.Cain: Now, tell me this. If you are responsible for what Paul did, why don’t I see your name after any of those questions?

Gwen was reeling from Simon’s words. He had a point. She hadn’t initiated even one single exchange with Paul, her heart leapt with hope, but she wasn’t convinced yet.

BeadLady_GC: I didn’t stop him.

Simon.Cain: Why would you? He told you it was what he wanted. The key exchange in dominance and submission is trust. You trusted him. You trusted that he was being honest with you about what he wanted. HE LIED TO YOU. Don’t you see? He lied. Nothing he says or did has any value and you’re only a fool if you let it.

BeadLady_GC: I want to believe you, but I need time to think.

Simon.Cain: Fair enough, but think about this. I asked you to trust me and you did. I asked you to submit to me and you did. I promised you pleasure in return, based on your responses I think I delivered (compliments are good BTW my ego has been very bruised).

Again, Gwen laughed. It felt good to laugh again. She blushed as she responded.

BeadLady_GC: You delivered.

Simon.Cain: Ha! I knew it!

BeadLady_GC: LOL

Simon.Cain: Listen, I can only say this. You gave me a gift that I had more of less given up on finding. I thank you for that even if you never see me again. I’ve been made to feel like pervert for wanting what I want. You made me feel like a normal man making love to beautiful woman.

BeadLady_GC: I’m flattered.

Simon.Cain: I don’t flatter, I speak the truth.

BeadLady_GC: Okay … thank you.

Simon.Cain: Welcome. Gwen…

BeadLady_GC: Yes?

Simon.Cain: Don’t run again.

BeadLady_GC: ???

Simon.Cain: I’m going to be gone for three more weeks. Talk with me. Nothing more. Will you?

Gwen’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Could she? What if it Simon was just being nice?

Simon.Cain: Gwen?

BeadLady_GC: Yes

Simon.Cain: Excellent! What’s your number?

BeadLady_GC: Now? You want to talk now?

Simon.Cain: Do you have something else to do?

BeadLady_GC: No.

Simon.Cain: Good. What’s your number?

Gwen’s stomach lurched as she typed out her number. What the hell was she thinking? This couldn’t end well. She rested her fingers back on the keys typing out an excuse to Simon. Chatting she could do, talking she wasn’t ready for. Before she even got the words typed, her phone rang.

CHAPTER 5 Simon’s hand shook just slightly as he reached for the doorbell. He couldn’t believe that he was once again as nervous as a teenager. He’d told Gwen that he’d be by tonight, but he hadn’t given her a time.

He’d wanted to keep her just a little off kilter, so her first reaction would be unschooled.

The last three weeks had been crazy, but great. His new game idea been commissioned and the team was fast at work. Simon had overseen the casting of the voices and actors for the animation and had delivered the initial code base to the programmers. The promo tour for Trinity IV had wrapped successfully. It had been exhausting, but he’d never felt better. No matter how crazy the last three weeks had been, there had been Gwen.

They’d spoken every night since that first one. At first, he’d tried to put her at ease, but had quickly realized he was patronizing her by doing so. After that, he’d just been himself and pulled no punches with her. She was going to have to get over her insecurity because it made sense to do so, not because he coddled her.

He’d found he could talk with her about anything. She didn’t judge and she was interesting and funny. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being with an intelligent woman. He’d begun to count the minutes until he spoke to her again. He'd find himself wanting to share some anecdote from his day or ask her opinion on a challenge he’d come across in his game.

He’d fallen in love with her. The problem was that he wasn’t sure how she felt about him. They’d finally come back to the subject of Paul about a week ago and they’d talk it through for a long time.

He’d challenged her to prove how submitting made anyone weak or loose. He demanded she disprove the notion that the amount of self-discipline and control required to submit far exceeded what it took to dominate. That in that particular partnership, it could be argued that the stronger of the two was often the submissive.

He’d argued that trust and respect were the foundation of any relationship and was no different in a dominant/submissive relationship. He’d put it out there that submission went both ways in any relationship and that he wasn’t afraid to submit if that was what the circumstances called for. He’d deliberately reminded her that he’d turned over control to her at the very end of their encounter and she’d been the one in charge at that point.

He’d laid out his arguments and then demanded that she prove him wrong. She hadn’t been able to.

She’d been very quiet after that and had ended the call claiming the need to get up early the next morning.

Simon had let her go, certain he just ended any chance of a relationship with her, but she’d called him the next day at lunch just to say hello.

They hadn’t spoken of it again since then. Simon wasn’t going to let it drop, but he wanted to spend some time with her first. He wanted to give her a chance to see him for who he was and know that his feelings for her had only grown, not changed because of what she’d done for him.

Now, if only she’d put him out of his misery and open the door. The face that greeted him in the window as the doorbell faded, however, was not Gwen’s. It was Monster. He was clearly standing up against the door. His face was split wide in a huge doggy grin.

"Monster. Off," Gwen’s voice rang out in a clear and precise command. Monster obediently dropped to all fours. Simon was impressed.

Gwen’s face lit up when she saw him. Her lips parted in a gentle smile and she licked her lips nervously. Blood rushed to Simon’s cock when he saw her tongue dart out from between her full, pink lips. He ruthlessly locked those thoughts away. He wasn’t going there with her today.

She opened the door and he was transfixed. She was radiant in gold. She wore a strapless sun dress in gold cotton. The skirt was long hanging all the way down to her ankles. She had layers of bead necklaces draped around her neck.

"Giving Mr. T a run for his money?" Simon teased.

Gwen flushed and removed the necklaces with a chuckle. "I’m sorting, I’ll have you know. We’ve got a trunk show this weekend."

She stepped back to allow him into her house. She stepped in her dining room and deposited the necklaces on a table littered with boxes, bags and a cornucopia of beaded jewelry.

"Trunk show?"

"It’s a special event where I have a select group of designers come in and show off their pieces. It’s a good way to generate business and offer stock that isn’t cost effective for me to keep on hand. I do two every year."

"Impressive. Whose pieces are these?"

"These are mine," the pride in her voice was evident.

"I’m doubly impressed."

"I only dabble. I’m still more of the business lady than the designer."

"Don’t underestimate yourself. These are nice."

Simon fingered one of the necklaces she’d taken off. The beads were different shapes and sizes, but all were a different shade of gold. The piece had an earthy, natural quality that reminded him of Gwen.

She cleared her throat, abruptly, "Would you like to sit? Some coffee."

"Sure … to both."

Simon followed Gwen into her living room, where she excused herself to get the coffee. Her home was neat and tidy. Everything was in its place. She had an eclectic style with Asian and Indian pieces layered in with contemporary pieces. Simon sat on the proffered sofa.

Her sofa was deep, ruby red velvet and looked like it should have been in a movie. There was a low coffee table of some indeterminate style in ebony stained wood. The chairs opposite the sofa were large and overstuffed. The kind you’d expect to see next to a fireplace. They were covered in soft, beige suede like material and looked comfortable.

There was no TV in the room and Simon remembered that she said she watched Hulu on the computer if she wanted to see anything. Her laptop sat in the back of the room on a work desk that was made to fit the corner. Monster was sprawled on a huge, black dog bed immediately next to the desk. He was sacked out and snoring as only a Pitbull could.

Gwen came back with two cups of coffee, but she looked in pain. Simon jumped up and took the steaming mugs from her placing them on the coffee table. She was shaking her hands as if to cool them and he gently took them in both hands.

"You okay?"

"Yes, that was stupid. I should have used a tray."

Simon lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed first one palm then the other. Her palms were hot where the mugs had heated her skin. Her breath hitched and Simon grinned against her palms, but released her.

She looked flustered and he was tempted to let her stew, but he had mercy on her.

"Come here, Gwen. I want to hold you."

He held out his arms to her, but she hesitated. "It’s your choice, Gwen."

She stepped into his arms wrapping hers around his waist. He held her close and inhaled her scent.

She fit perfectly into in his arms. Her body was as delicious as he remembered. Her full round breasts pressed into his chest. Simon’s body reacted despite his strict instructions to his cock, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t do anything else either. He just held her.

It was Gwen who pulled back. She leaned back just enough to look at him. Her face was flushed and her nipples were hard under the thin cotton of the dress she wore. Her gaze as she looked up at him was expectant.

"Gwen, anything that happens tonight is on your terms. I won’t ask anything of you. I came over to spend time with you, not make demands no matter how much I want to make love to you."

She flushed and looked down, but quickly squared her shoulders and looked directly at him. "You mean it? Everything is on my terms?"

He looked directly into her crystal green eyes and said simply, "Yes." She pulled out of his arms then and Simon let them fall to his sides. He moved as if to reclaim his spot on the couch, but Gwen stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm.

"No." Her words were a whisper, but no less firm.

Simon stood still and waited. Gwen trailed gentle fingers over his chest. Her touch was light and raised goosebumps in its wake. Simon’s cock hardened under her gentle ministrations.

"Gwen …" he’d planned to let her know he had no expectations, that she didn’t have to do anything, but she placed gentle fingers across his lips to silence him.

"You don’t have permission to speak," she smiled at him mischievously and he laughed. He couldn’t help himself. His laughter died when she leaned over and bit his nipple through his T-shirt.

His cock jerked under his jeans. Gwen noticed. She reached down and unzipped his jeans. Reaching into his pants, she squeezed his cock. Simon groaned and pressed his dick into her palm only to have her release him and step back.

"Undress," she directed.

Simon complied. Divesting himself of his clothes and draping them over one of the twinned armchairs.

"Sit down," Gwen pointed to the empty chair. Simon complied.

Gwen gathered her skirt and settled between his legs. She studied his body unabashedly. Her peridot gaze settled on his rigid erection. She leaned over and rubbed her cheek along the sensitive flesh.

The skin of her face was silky and smooth unlike his own perpetually stubbled face. Her warm breath tickled over his cock and he jerked in response. Simon reached a hand toward her only to have her quirk a disapproving eyebrow at him.

"You’re not allowed to move either."

Simon dropped his hand. It thrilled him that she was willing to play with him. That she wanted to be intimate with him so soon. He’d thought to go very slow with her. He was being tested. Of that, he had no doubt. He’d told her he would submit as easily as she had if he believed that was what his partner wanted or needed. She was seeing if he'd meant it.

Gwen gripped his cock firmly standing it up. She stroked up the shaft squeezing him just under the mushroom tip and small drops of moisture pearled up. Gwen dipped her head and lapped up the salty tears before dropping lower and licking down the length of him. She continued teasing him licking him gently and feathering kisses along his shaft. Her tongue was warm velvet and wet heat against his sensitized skin.

He wanted to demand she suck him into her mouth. He wanted to grab her head and thrust his cock between those luscious lips, but he’d made a promise and he never broke his word. She was, however, going to kill him if she kept it up.

Gwen left his cock and began to stroke his chest and stomach. His muscles flexed everywhere she touched so that his body rippled and moved with her. She seemed entranced with the feel of him. She closed her eyes and continued her explorations. He felt as if she was committing him to memory.

Her lips were parted slightly and just the tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth. Simon clamped down on the need to lean in and suck her tongue into his mouth.

Gwen took pity on him then and sucked him into her mouth. Simon struggled against the urge to arch into her mouth. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his body.Gwen worshiped his cock with her lips and tongue. She licked and sucked, nipped and teased his cock for long moments. He felt himself swelling even harder in her mouth. She took him deeply, swallowing him down all the way to the base.

No woman had ever taken him fully.

Simon could no longer control the sounds he made. His groans were guttural and thick as she laved his cock. She ate him like he was a popsicle and she didn’t want to miss a single drop. Simon wasn’t sure he could hold out much longer.

Gwen released his cock with a wet slurp. She licked her lips as if to savor his taste. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently licking her way into his mouth and exploring its depths. She made kissing him an act of adoration and he was breathless by the time she broke away.

She too was panting and breathless as she rested her forehead against him and said, "I want you to come for me Simon. I want to drink you down. If you need to move or speak do so."

Simon groaned as his cock jerked and he almost came at the image that ran through his head at her words. Gwen sank back on her heels and swallowed Simon down her sweet, tight throat.

She was an erotic vision between his legs. His cock stretched her mouth to the limit and her lips were swollen and deep pink from sucking him. Saliva coated the shaft and she worked him in long, luscious strokes. Simon never wanted to leave the haven of her mouth. His cock had never been treated so tenderly. The very gentleness of her touch intensified each sensation so that Simon was rapidly being overwhelmed with pleasure.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Simon gripped Gwen’s head and began to thrust into her mouth in short, urgent strokes. She relaxed and allowed him to take the lead as he pumped himself into her mouth.

She rubbed her tongue along the underside of his shaft paying particular attention to just under the mushroom head. That gentle touch was his undoing.

Simon’s body spasmed and clenched in a rictus of pleasure as he poured himself down her throat, all the while shouting her name.

# He tasted of salt and Simon and Gwen drank of him greedily. His penis was softening in her mouth, but she didn’t want to relinquish him yet. He’d come in warm, gushing spurts in her mouth and she’d reveled in her ability to please him.

The irony of it all was that, in Simon’s submission, she had truly only been concerned with his pleasure. The real power had been in bringing him to fruition not in controlling his movements. Simon’s submission to her had been beautiful and erotic. He’d entrusted her with his pleasure. Gifted her with his trust.

She’d been wrong. He’d been right. Paul had lied to deflect from his betrayals.

Her desire to please Simon was nothing more or less than what it was. Pleasing him pleased her whether she was dictating the action or submitting to his will. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

Gwen relinquished Simon’s cock reluctantly, but she wanted to be skin to skin with him. She reached between them and pulled her dress over her head. She stood before Simon in just a small, fleshtoned thong.

"Remove my panties, Simon."

She no longer cared if she was in charge. She just wanted to feel his hands on her. Simon reached out and hooked his fingers in the flimsy scrap of lingerie and slowly dragged them down her body where she kicked free of them.

"Simon," she straddled his lap cradling his penis in the wet heat of her pussy, "I don’t care who’s in charge. Do whatever you want. Say whatever you want."

Simon rested his hands on her hips and just looked at her. His head rested slightly to one side and he had a very serious look on his face. His sapphire eyes glittered with an emotion she’d never seen before.

A thrill of fear ran through Gwen. Had she misread him?

"I’m in love with you, Gwen," Simon’s voice was tender. She started to reply, but he hushed her.

"Don’t say anything yet. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, but I love you. You’re funny and smart and all I think about is you.

"I promised myself I’d go slowly. That I’d give you time to get to know me before springing this on you, but I feel like I’d be lying to you if I didn’t tell you.

Gwen started to speak again, but Simon silenced her with a tender, gentle kiss. His tongue explored the cavern of her mouth, licked along her teeth and danced with her own. She gave herself up to his tongue and lips savoring his slow seduction.

He tore his mouth from hers and kissed his way to her breasts. He caressed her gently. Lapping at the swollen buds and sucking them gently into his mouth. He sucked her tenderly, but with relish. Ripples of pleasure trilled through her body as he dallied over her nipples.

Pleasure pooled deep in her body. Each suck, each tug of his mouth added to the depth of sensation so that Gwen felt full and heavy with ecstasy.

Simon hefted himself up from the chair taking Gwen with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and his reawakened cock rubbed wetly between her nether lips. She moaned and pressed harder into his body. Simon’s breath caught and his cock jerked against her.

Gwen wanted him inside her, wanted his hardness filling her recesses. She wanted him coming inside her, marking her as his own. She belonged to him and she wanted him to manifest his possession of her body in long thorough strokes into her pussy.

She rubbed against him. The hard peaks of her breasts grazed his chest and she panted with need.

"Simon ‌ Simon, I need you."

"Shhh. Sweetheart, patience."

He lay her down on the couch. The velvet was soft and soothing to her sensitized skin. Simon found his wallet and extracted a condom. He sheathed himself in small, economical movements which Gwen was grateful for. She spread her legs, welcoming him and he moved over and into her in one fluid stroke.

Gwen arched and ground herself into him as he pressed deeply into her. As before, he stretched her almost painfully, but she welcomed the friction, welcomed his claiming. Gwen writhed under him as he held himself deep and firm.

She opened her eyes to see Simon gazing down on her with fierce intent. Her eyes widened and just as she was about to speak he pulled out to the tip only to impale her fiercely. Pleasure speared through her body and she cried out.

"Mine," he growled. "You're mine."

She reached up and cupped his face between her palms.

"Yours, Simon. I'm yours."

Emotions flashed behind his eyes too quickly for her to read as he leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. He began to move then. Stroking in and out of her in long, slow thrusts. He rolled his hips with each press of his cock into her body, grinding the velvet skin of his groin against her clitoris.

The friction was exquisite. He rubbed his way in and out of her body, the sweat dewing their skin lubricating the way so that they slid wetly against each other. Gwen joined the ride sucking Simon into her pussy and holding him deep with her inner muscles. She arched and writhed under him moaning his name over and over.

Her body felt full and swollen as if she could no longer contain the pleasure Simon was pouring into her. Her skin was sensitized and each wet slide sent sparks of fire coursing along her skin. He stroked with relentless tenderness and Gwen knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Simon was making love to her not fucking her.

The knowledge sent her over the edge. She cried out as her body exploded in bliss. Simon continued to plunge himself into her as her body milked his. She rose up and sucked his nipple into her mouth and his breath caught in his throat.

He grunted in surprise and his thrusts increased in urgency. She sucked hard on the flat disc of his nipple and bit down gently.

Simon lifted her leg at the knee, draping it over his arm as he began to plunge urgently into her.

Deeper and deeper he plunged until, finally, he held himself deep and poured himself into her body. She thrilled in the feel of his release. His cock shuddered and bucked inside her channel and she wished they had no barrier between them. With one final roll of his hips, Simon collapsed resting his weight on top of her.

Gwen threw her arms around Simon and laughed in delight as joy overwhelmed her. He smiled against her neck and chuckled along with her.

"Care to share or have I performed so poorly?" he asked.

She squeezed him harder before answering and said, "I love you."

"Gwen," he raised up on his elbows to look at her, "I don’t want you feeling like you have to say it back to me."

"I don’t," she smiled ruefully. "I can be slow sometimes, but I catch on eventually."

She cupped his face and looked at him with all the love she felt. She loved this man beyond words.

Simon had shown her the true beauty of what lay inside her. He had given her free reign and gifted her with his trust.

She’d fallen in love with him over the weeks he’d been gone. Each email, each phone call had deepened the bond forged so explosively that first night. She refused to be afraid or ashamed any longer.

"I love you, Simon Cain. It’s as simple as that. I love you and I want to be with you."

Simon grinned at her then a wicked smile if ever there was one.

"What?" she asked laughing.

"Have you ever played Simon Says?" he asked as he rolled off of her and threw her over his shoulder.

"Simon!" she cried out between peals of laughter.

Simon just smacked her on the ass and headed up the stairs to find her bedroom.

"Sweetheart, I’ve got six weeks to make up for and I’m just getting started."

He was as good as his word.

###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Gillian Colbert discovered writing later in life, but is now addicted to words, syllables and phrases.

She loves books and stories of all shapes, sizes and genres, but most of all, Gillian loves to write about people overcoming their insecurities and finding their mate. After all, risk and passion are what make life worth living.

In her spare time, Gillian is a mother and dog owner. Her two Pitbulls have proven to be a love story in and of themselves. Every day, their affection and bond grows and deepens. In truth, their deep canine affection with its angst, joy, play and encouragement is inspiration for Gillian. Everyone should love so purely.

See how it all began in Forbidden Fruit ...

Marlie Newburn is a respected professor at the local college with an indecent secret ... she wants to have sex with not one, but two of her students. Adon Taylor and Simon Cain want Marlie just as bad, but she keeps them at a distance. Can they break through the wall of resistance? Can she keep them at bay? Or, will an afternoon of sun and heat finally give Marlie a taste of that forbidden fruit

FORBIDDEN FRUIT Mirrors should be outlawed.

Marlie Newburn stared critically at herself in the full-length mirror hanging over the back of her bedroom door. It wasn’t that she didn’t like what she saw. In truth, she did quite well for 34.

Her dark, auburn hair was completely natural with not one strand of gray. Her skin was clear, though fair, and her hazel eyes favored green on most days. Her lips were full and rosy enough that she could get away with a swipe of lip gloss rather than needing lipstick.

Her body was petite and trim. She wasn’t chunky, but she had a smidge too much body fat to be described as athletic. Her breasts were small, but nicely shaped and she had full-hips with, thankfully, no cellulite in sight. The leopard bikini she wore set off her assets, pun intended, quite well.

No, she couldn’t complain about her looks. It was her age that she had a problem with. At 34 she was officially dancing with middle-age and every time she looked in the mirror she expected to see a wrinkle or age spot, something that proved she wasn’t young any longer.

Normally, she wouldn’t care about her age. After all, it was just a number, but being confronted on a regular basis with her personal wet dream in the flesh made it hard not to feel like a cradle-robber especially when the objects of said wet dream were 10 years her junior.

Marlie was an accomplished author and professor of creative writing at the local university in the small town of River Rock, Vermont. She’d taught full-time at the school for the last five years and loved her job immensely. She taught seniors, so she was able to be a bit more creative with the curriculum and, by senior year, most of the students in her class were serious English students or at the very least were mature adults.

That particular bit of knowledge didn’t, however, help her reconcile her attraction to not one, but two of her writing students. Adon Taylor and Simon Cain had turned her inside out the moment she had walked into her classroom at the beginning of the spring term.

Her classes were always small and this one was no exception. Rather than a large hall, her lectures took place in a small classroom which meant a much more intimate setting for discussion. Normally, she enjoyed the close quarters. She found the physical proximity often lent itself to more lively discussion.

This semester, the physical closeness to her students was sheer torture. She was literally within touching distance of the objects of her fantasy each and every class. And, to make matters worse, they sat smack in the middle of the front row.

Marlie usually roamed the class. She found it helped engage the students. With Adon and Simon positioned in the center two seats of a row of four, it meant that regardless of where she went she had to pass them.

Moving past them meant contact in one fashion or another. The silk of their skin brushing hers dazzled her senses each time and left her reeling. After the third time she lost her train of thought because of some incidental contact, Marlie stayed behind her desk or at the chalkboard.

This also meant that she saw them every time she looked out at the class. To say it was distracting was an understatement. Taken individually, they were each uniquely stunning. Adon was tall and lean with an athletically muscled body that rippled with his movements. He was a student of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and it showed in the graceful, light way he moved as if gravity didn’t really affect him.

He owed his coloring to a Native American ancestry that had become obscured at some point with other less exotic genetics, but he retained the hairless skin and high cheekbones. He had ebony black hair that glinted blue in the light and his eyes were so black, you couldn’t see where pupil met iris. It was like looking into two pools of midnight so dark you could drown in them.

She shivered at the memory of those eyes fixed on her. He never seemed to look away.

Every time she looked up she found him staring at her. Only when she assigned in-class writing prompts did she get a respite from his intensity.

When he looked at her, she felt as if he could read her secrets in her eyes. The last thing she needed was for him to realize exactly how he affected her. She desired him in a way she’d never desired anyone else. Even Simon, for all that she wanted him, didn't hit her with the same intensity that Adon did.

Simon Cain was as intense as Adon, he just hid it better. While Adon rarely spoke, Simon spoke frequently and with an ease that made it simple to overlook his intelligence and insight until it was too late and you’d already exposed yourself.

Simon was less exotic than Adon, but no less beautiful. He was solidly built with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled body. With deep, velvety brown hair that hung in shaggy waves around his face and sapphire-blue eyes, Simon possessed a rugged fierceness that reminded her more of warriors from ages past rather than the computer geek he was.

Individually, they knocked her breathless and speechless, but when you put them together, she was practically comatose. She’d spent most of the first class imagining them naked and erect.

Wondering how it would feel to be pressed between those young, hungry bodies.

She’d never been more grateful for wool sweaters and jeans than she was on that day. She’d been wet and her nipples were hard and aching by the end of that class. It had been the longest 90 minutes of her life.

Every class since then had been worse. Some days it took everything she had not to launch herself at one or both of them, rip their clothes off and suck on what promised to be delectable penises if the size of their bulges were any indication.

The worst moment had been when she’d allowed herself to slip into a daydream about them while the class finished a prompt. In it, Adon laid her over the desk and slipped his warm, velvet tongue inside her pussy while Simon slid his cock inside her mouth and she sucked on him hard and long.

The fantasy had been vivid and intense and only when the slap of someone’s notebook hitting the floor had penetrated her sensual fog had she come back to her senses. She'd been horrified to find her hand sliding under her sweater to her hardened nipples and both Adon and Simon looking at her with narrowed, heated eyes. She’d flushed with shame and quickly excused herself to the ladies room where it was several long moments before she could collect herself.

After that, it was as if they never took their eyes off of her. She felt them watching her every second. Class had become a test of her will and capacity for self-restraint as she fought the fantasy of them and the desire to make that fantasy real.

Then, as if just getting through class wasn’t hard enough, Adon had specifically asked for her to mentor them both as they co-wrote a novel based on Simon’s popular video game. So, in addition to the two classes a week, she saw them at her home every Friday to provide notes and suggestions on their novel.

Marlie had tried to get them to come during her regular office hours, but they had sworn up and down that they couldn’t concentrate in such cramped confines. When she’d suggested the library, they’d said they couldn’t relax there. In the end, she’d relented and allowed them to come to her house.

Today was the last of those sessions. The semester had ended and final grades were submitted, but they had one last manuscript session. They’d completed their final chapter and submitted it to her last week. She was planning on handing it back this afternoon with some final notes and wishing them well. After that, she would get back to her simple and ordinary life.

The thought made her sad. The mentoring sessions were hard, but only because they tested her limits and left her horny and dissatisfied when the men left. Spending time with them, though, was as easy as apple pie.

It had surprised her at first, because she’d been so nervous, but she was quickly at ease with them. Adon was so serious and intense, but every now and then he’d let her make him laugh.

When he smiled it was as if someone had set off firecrackers in her belly. Her blood sang when he smiled. It lit up his face and sparkled in his eyes. She made it a priority to make him laugh as often as she could.

She knew some of his background, enough to know it had been hard and that Simon’s family had taken him in. That they’d both taken a few years and worked as computer programmers before going to college which made them several years older than her other seniors. She and Adon had finished many of these sessions just talking over coffee.

Simon, on the other hand, was much more of a mystery. He hid a deep intelligence and razor wit under a facade of carefree laziness. He was affable and fun to be around, but he never let anyone except Adon know what he was really thinking.

Simon was the creator of a first person shooter video game that had grown to such popularity on campus that it had been bought by a local software company. Adon, the more literary of the two, was writing a novel based on the game with Simon as co-author. Hence, the mentoring.

The sessions had become something she looked forward to as much as she dreaded them.

She and Adon had gotten to know each other over the course of the semester and she cared for him more than she was willing to examine. It confused her at times that she wanted to screw both men, though, if she had to choose only one, Adon was top pick hands down. It didn’t matter really. The sessions were over after today.

A wave of sadness came over her and she fought it back. Why be sad? She was never going to do anything about this ridiculous attraction and they would be leaving school after graduation.

She was going to let them go that simple.

Get your head in the game, Marlie!

She was going to say her good-byes and forget all about Adon Taylor and Simon Cain. She could get through one last session. And, to ensure she was able to do so, she was going to lay out

by the pool for a while and soak in the afternoon sun along with some tunes. She needed to relax if she was going to get through this last meeting with her nerves intact.

Marlie headed out toward her small, postage stamp pool. At the last minute, her confidence failed her and she detoured into the kitchen for a drink. Her nerves were ragged at the thought of Adon and Simon in her house for the last time. She didn't trust herself and she wanted some liquid courage to help the relaxing begin.

Part of her regretted that she’d never see her two students again. Never taste them or feel their bodies penetrate hers. Marlie groaned as heat flooded her body. Her pussy throbbed at the mere thought of them. She gripped the counter for support as her knees weakened under the onslaught of her desire.

She breathed deeply for several breaths and, collecting herself, mixed up a whiskey sour. A very strong whiskey sour. God only knew how she’d get through this afternoon.

Whisky sour in hand, she plopped down on her favorite chaise lounge and began to rub SPF 50 Coppertone into her exposed skin. The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she didn’t want to burn.

She wanted to soak in some heat and sun and just vegetate for a while not turn into a burnt crisp.

Marlie closed her eyes and did her best to blank out images of Adon and Simon from her mind. She tried hard to think about something other than what their lips would feel like on her body. It was a lost cause.

Marlie downed her whiskey sour in a few rapid gulps. I really need to get laid, maybe then I’ll forget about them.

With a forlorn sigh, Marlie called up her favorite playlist on her iPod, put her headphones in, closed her eyes and just floated with the music.

As she drifted off, Marlie wished it was Adon and Simon pounding into her rather than beat of the song. # Simon Cain and Adon Taylor stood outside the gate of Professor Newburn’s backyard and contemplated the scene before them. The professor was stretched out on a chaise lounge clearly asleep, but she had headphones in and wasn’t responding to their calls. The yard was small, but

she was on the opposite end of a tiny, kidney shaped pool which put her as far away from them as it was possible to be.

“What do you think? Jump it?” Simon asked as he studied the tall, wooden fence critically.

It was a typical privacy fence, but the wood was warped in places allowing for gaps between the slats.

Adon shook his head and indicated the lock. “Should be easy to pick.”

Simon took a closer look and nodded his agreement. “Got a card of some kind on you?” he reached a hand out toward Adon without looking up.

Adon dug his driver’s license out of his wallet and handed it over. Simon jimmied the card into the gap between fence and gate and pushed upward. The gate popped open with a soft snick and swung inward.

Simon closed the gate behind them, making sure to lock it again and together they walked over to the professor.

Adon was reaching out to shake her when Simon grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t wake her.”

Adon just looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“She wants us,” Simon said. “She’s just afraid to come get us. I say, let’s help her along with that decision.”

“Elaborate please.”

“I want a taste of her. Hell, you want her worse than I do and if she’s fully awake, she’s going to fight it. But,” Simon smiled wickedly at Adon, “if she wakes up with us already tasting her, she may stop it, but at least we’ll already know what it’s like.”

Adon’s gaze dropped to the professor. Simon watched his friend look her over from head to toe. The professor was lovely, laid out in a barely there bikini that did little to cover and much to titillate. Adon’s eyes paused for intent moments over her tight, pert breasts and flat, pelvis. When he looked again at Simon, his eyes burned.

“She’ll be mad at us.”

“Maybe,” Simon allowed. “Or, maybe, she’ll finally quit acting like we’ve got the plague and do what she’s wanted to do all along.”

“Just a taste though. Nothing more,” Adon insisted.

Simon snorted, “Oh, there will be more if I have my way, but she’ll be fully awake and participating.”

Simon knelt by the Professor’s side and reached for the ties he saw peeking out from behind her neck. Slowly, so slowly, he pulled the laces to unravel the bow holding her top up. She murmured and shifted turning her head away from him, but she remained asleep.

Simon gently pulled back the top of her bikini to expose her breasts to the sun. Her breasts were round and full, despite being on the small-side. Her nipples were large and rosy pink. The late afternoon breeze whispered in the air and her nipples tightened.

Those sweet buds called to him and his cock leapt to attention in response. Judging from the tent in Adon's shorts, he felt the same way.

Simon cleared his throat and said, “It’s now or never.”

Adon’s gaze was fixated on the professor’s nipples, his eyes never moved as he responded, “Now.” Together, they leaned over the professor and sucked her nipples into their hot, hungry mouths. # Warm, wet suction pulled at her nipples sending pulses of pleasure throughout her body.

Both nipples were engulfed and she knew she dreamed of them. Only in her dreams of Adon and Simon did she experience the twin pleasures that no one man could produce.

Marlie opened her eyes and gloried in the picture they presented as they laved the tips of her breasts. Their pink tongues rasped wetly around each distended tip before they suckled her in long, hard draws. Their eyes were closed, but each wore a look of ravenous hunger as if they could eat her up, literally.

They knelt on either side of her. Both were dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. Adon’s shirt was loose and bore the logo of a local Jiu-Jitsu academy. It hid the muscular perfection of his body, much to her disappointment. He had on loose cargo shorts and flip-flops. The sun glinted off his hair causing hints of blue fire to flicker in the silky strands.

Simon’s simple black T-shirt was tighter and molded nicely to his broad shoulders, but it hung more loosely at the waist where his stomach and hips narrowed. He too wore cargo style

khaki shorts, but had chosen tennis shoes. She wondered why they had clothes on. They were usually naked in her dreams.

Marlie’s pussy spasmed as pleasure swamped her body. Ripples of desire pulsated through her in tempo with their sucking. With a long, low moan, Marlie reached out and laid her hands on both of their heads while she arched into their mouths. At her touch they both froze.

“No, don’t stop,” she whispered. “Suck me.”

Her nipples popped out of their mouths with a slurp as they raised their heads and gazed at her. The desire and need in their eyes raised goosebumps on her skin.

“Are you sure, Professor?” Simon asked. His voice was husky and deeper than she’d ever heard.

“Be sure,” Adon growled in a voice that was barely intelligible.

“Suck me,” Marlie whispered closing her eyes and exerting gentle pressure on their heads.

“I need this.”

Adon and Simon turned back to her nipples with a ferocity unlike any she’d experienced.

They sucked and licked, pinched and tugged at her nipples and Marlie writhed under their ministrations.

This was the most vivid, erotic dream she’d ever had of them. Usually, she dreamed of them as tender, sweet lovers who made long, slow love to her. Occasionally, she dreamed of them as being helplessly overcome by her advances. The kind where she was the aggressor and they simply couldn’t resist her. She’d never before had a dream where they were so aggressively erotic and demanding.

She liked it. She felt … needed. No one had ever made her feel this way. She never wanted to wake up.

Marlie’s breasts swelled and her clitoris throbbed as they played. She reveled in the freedom to touch and be touched by them that she found only in her dreams. She wanted them over her, under her, inside her. She wanted them in ways she only allowed herself to indulge in her fantasies.

“More,” she moaned. “I need more. Please.”

Simon tore his mouth away from her breast and moved to rip her bikini bottoms from her while Adon finished removing her top.

Naked and spread out before them like an erotic buffet, Marlie spread her thighs, exposing her glistening pussy. She slowly stroked her inner thighs, framing her pussy and arching as they stared raptly at her mound.

“Touch me,” she crooned.

Neither man spoke as they moved to do her bidding. Adon resumed sucking her nipple while he delved between her legs and thrust two fingers inside her tight, hot channel. He began to fuck her pussy with long, slow deep thrusts. He alternated between thrusting in hard and pulling out only to rotate back in and stroke her internally as if he were beckoning her to come to him.

His fingers were long and touched her in places she’d never been touched before. The sensations he generated reverberated through her body and she burned from them.

Unwilling to be left out, Simon gently traced the contours of her belly as he made his way lazily down to her clitoris. Once there, he stroked the swollen bud in slow, gentle circles. His touch feathered over her heated skin, but she felt heavy and full wherever he touched her.

Marlie was being consumed in a conflagration of pleasure. Her body was inflamed and she panted with need. Her nipples were hard points of pleasure and her pussy dripped with moisture.

She’d never felt so swollen, so needy, so desperate for relief. She felt as if the pleasure invading her body would tear her apart. The sheer eroticism of the scene before her invaded her senses and threatened to tip her over into what promised to be the orgasm of a lifetime.

Unable to help herself, Marlie thrust against their mouths and hands.

“Please,” she begged. “I’ve wanted this so much. I can’t think when you’re near me. All I think about is fucking you. Each of you, both of you together. I want you in my mouth, my pussy even my ass.”

As if her words were a match to gasoline, Adon and Simon became almost savage in their pleasuring of her. Adon sucked and nipped and bit at her nipples while his fingers moved in an almost savage rhythm, fucking her pussy relentlessly. She moaned and thrashed as he plied her body like she was an instrument that only he knew how to play.

Simon tore his mouth away from her nipple and kissed her fiercely. His tongue plundered her mouth, giving her no option of refusing him. His lips were soft and sweet, but his kiss was all spice and heat. He tasted vaguely of coffee and peppermint, the two flavors were like ambrosia to her senses.

“Professor,” Simon ended the kiss and growled in a voice grown guttural with lust. “You have no idea how much we’ve wanted to fuck you, but you’ve shut us down at every turn.”

Adon grunted his assent to Simon’s words, but never took his mouth from her nipple. His lips were as swollen and red as her nipple was from his suckling.

“You’re my students,” Marlie gasped. She could barely think for the waves of pleasure thrilling through her veins. If all of her dreams were like this, she’d endeavor to sleep forever.

“I can’t have sex with my students. It wouldn’t be right.”

Simon chuckled low and sexy, “But, Professor, you’re having sex with us now.”

He didn’t give her time to respond, but kissed her again, slow and languorously this time as if he wanted to imprint his flavor on every inch of her mouth.

She smiled at him and nipped at his bottom lip.

“Of course, I am. I can fuck you as much as I want in my dreams.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned deep and low in her throat. “I don’t ever want to wake up.”

She closed her eyes as she spoke and so she missed the startled glance Adon and Simon shared, but she didn’t miss their hesitation.

“Don't stop,” she crooned. “I need you. Please. This is so good.”

Adon and Simon resumed their attentions with a focused intensity that had Marlie at the brink of an orgasm in seconds. She moaned and ground herself against them. The noises she made were inhuman. She barely recognized her own voice.

Simon leaned in close to her ear. His silky locks tickled her face as he nuzzled and gently tongued her earlobe before nipping lightly.

“Professor,” he whispered. “I need you to listen closely.”

He paused for moment as if waiting for her to respond.

“Professor?”

“Hmmm?” she sighed more intent on their fingers in her folds than on Simon's words.

“Understand me now, Professor.”

Simon paused as if to make sure he had her attention and said, “This is no dream. We found you asleep by your pool.”

With those words Simon dived for her pussy and sucked her clitoris into his mouth. His hot, velvet tongue slicked over her swollen bud before he sucked it into his mouth. She had just enough time to comprehend his words before she shattered.

Marlie shrieked her release as wave after wave of fiery pleasure wracked her body. She shuddered and bucked under Simon’s tongue which continued to twirl around her clitoris as if she were an ice cream cone he was afraid would melt if he stopped. Adon was gentler, but no less relentless with his fingers and tongue.

Slowly, so slowly she floated down from the high of ecstasy they’d skyrocketed her to. As if determined to wring every drop of pleasure from her, they continued to gently stroke and lick her until she gave one last shudder. She pulled away from them and curled on her side, tucking her knees up close to her chest and squeezing her eyes shut.

It had been real! It wasn’t a dream! What the hell was she going to do? The things she’d done. The things she’d said. Oh. My. God. She could never look them in the face.

Gentle hands stroked her back and thighs, petting her as if she were a scared kitten. Neither spoke, they just waited.

Finally, when she couldn't stand the silence any longer, Marlie opened her eyes and looked into the intent faces of her own private fantasy made flesh. Hunger burned in their faces. Hunger for her.

Simon held his hand out to her and said, “It’s time to take this inside.”

Adon just gazed at her with those midnight eyes and nodded his agreement. # Marlie smacked Simon’s hand away.

“Leave. Both of you!” Marlie snarled as she lurched off of the lounge chair and stormed naked into the house.

Adon and Simon followed close on her heels. She tried to slam the door in their faces, but Simon inserted his body between the door and the frame with a grunt. Marlie backed away from the door into her living room stopping only when she bumped into the back of her suede sofa.

She crossed her arms over her breasts as if to shield them from their sight.

The room was small and she didn't have anywhere to go to get away from them. The sofa dominated the room which had just the one couch, a small plush area rug she'd purchased from IKEA and an entertainment stand with her television. She should have gone through the kitchen

and up the stairs, at least then she could have locked the bedroom door. As it was, she now had to go past them to get out of the living room.

“Professor. Listen …” Simon began.

“No,” she snapped cutting him off. “No, there is no listening about this. Do you realize what’s happened here? If anyone finds out about this, my career is ruined!”

“Professor, it’s okay. I promise you it will be fine.” Simon stepped closer to her and tried to wrap her in his arms, but she pulled away only to bump into Adon who had flanked her while she ranted at Simon.

Adon gripped her upper arms to steady her and she yanked away from him too. They crowded close, invading her space and sending her senses reeling with their physicality and their scent. She put a hand on each man’s chest not sure if she meant to push them away or reestablish some form of physical conduct.

Simon grabbed her hand and pressed it tight against his chest as if to trap her. Adon gripped her wrist and stepped even closer so that her arm bent and the length of her forearm rested on his flat belly. His breath was harsh and his heart raced under her palm. He stroked the back of her hand with gentle fingers as if to soothe her.

She reeled with the knowledge that she’d just had her mind and pussy blown out in the most erotic and sensual orgasm she’d ever experienced and it had been with them. They’d done it to her and she’d not just encouraged it, she’d demanded it.

She flushed with shame. Shame because she wanted more when she should be throwing them out of her house. Shame because that taste hadn’t been nearly enough to quench her thirst for her students. Shame because now that her appetite had been wet, she doubted she could resist them again.

Marlie clenched her fists in their t-shirts, softly shaking them as she said, “It’s not okay.

How can it be? I’m your teacher.”

She looked into Simon’s sapphire eyes. They were earnest and gentle as he gazed back at her. Tears flooded her eyes as she turned and shook Adon again.

“Do you get it? He clearly doesn’t.”

Adon studied her with his midnight eyes. He held her gaze and read her secrets just as she’d known he would. “You want us to fuck you. We want to very much. It’s simple.”

“You’re not listening,” Marlie nearly wailed in frustration. “I’m your teacher. This is unethical,” she bit out the words.

Adon brought his free hand up and stroked her lower lip where she had it clenched between her teeth.

“No. You. Are. Not.” He mimicked her staccato cadence.

“What?” Marlie’s confusion was stamped on her face.

Simon answered for him, “Class is over, Professor. Grades were due last week. Nothing that happens now can affect those grades and we’ve officially been accepted for graduation. You, Professor," he touched the tip of her nose, "are no longer our teacher.”

“Simon’s right,” Adon said as he turned her face up to his. “Let us have you, Professor,” he leaned in so close his lips brushed hers as he spoke. “That taste only made me hungrier.”

Before she could say anything, he sealed his mouth over hers robbing her of breath and reason. His kiss was gentler than Simon’s. Where Simon plundered, Adon persuaded. He gently licked into her mouth so that his tongue danced with hers. Unable to resist, she sucked gently on it melting into his kiss and pulling him closer with her handful of shirt.

Adon groaned and pressed against her. His cock was hard and tented his shorts. His penis was large and bucked under his soft cotton shorts. She wanted to feel his hardness, but her hand was trapped in his gentle grasp.

Simon was still gripped in her other fist and she pulled him with her as she leaned into Adon. Simon gripped her hips and turned her to face Adon fully. His hands dropped away briefly. She reached back for him only to feel hot, rigid flesh press into the cleft of her buttocks as he flattened his body to hers.

Simon ground himself against her. He groaned as he rocked into her cleft. The hair on his balls and thighs was softer than she’d have imagined and abraded her buttocks leaving her tingling from its touch. She could feel the soft cotton of his shorts along of the back of her calves. The cool fabric created a focal point of sensation in juxtaposition to the warm steel of his penis where he pressed against her.

She was a symbiosis of want, need and desire at that moment. Her resistance, what little there was left, melted. She’d wanted them for too long. She wasn’t their teacher anymore. There was no longer any reason to deny what she’d craved so badly these long months.

Marlie tore herself away from Adon’s mouth. She was panting with the force of her desire.

Her nipples jutted from her body and her nether lips glistened with cream, but she stepped away from them both before turning to face them. They made as if to protest, but she held up a hand in a staying gesture.

“Strip,” she commanded, albeit breathlessly.

They hesitated for the briefest of moments before ripping the clothes from their body and tossing them aside. Within moments they stood before her gloriously nude.

She drank in the site of them. It was so much better than her fantasies, though, she’d been right on the nail about one thing. They had delectable penises. She planned to get them into her mouth very, very soon.

Simon’s body was everything it had promised to be. He was broad shouldered with narrow hips. His chiseled chest was covered in a sprinkling of chest hair that narrowed into a thin line that ended at his genitals. He clearly groomed his pubic hair. It was trimmed close to his body and served to emphasize the length of his penis.

His cock was magnificently erect. He was long and thick and the engorged head dripped in anticipation. She licked her lips at the thought of finally taking all of that velvet flesh in her mouth and down her throat. She moaned softly at the thought and his cock jumped in response.

As she watched, Simon gripped his cock and stroked from base to tip, squeezing the engorged head causing it to weep even more. He said nothing, just stroked himself as he watched her.

And, Adon ... there were no words. While she was attracted to them both, it was Adon who won the day in her fantasies. He was masculinity concentrated down to its purest form.

His body was lean and so muscled it made her breath catch. He had very little body hair and what there was gave the impression more of a sheen of fuzz rather than true hair. What should have given him a juvenile appearance only enhanced the lines and contours of his body so that he appeared sculpted. His beauty would have him in league with the ancient Greek statuary. His cock would have put them to shame.

If Simon was magnificent, Adon was glorious in his arousal. His cock was long and broad, very broad with just the slightest up turn at the head. She knew he would stretch her and she wondered what that slight bend would feel like. His erection jutted proudly out of from his body.

The veins and ridges were clearly defined so that his penis was a sculpted as the rest of him.

She tore her eyes away from his body and looked into his face. His midnight eyes burned into her. A tiny muscle in his jaw jumped and there were lines of strain around his eyes. She noticed his hands were clenched at his sides and his cock was jumping as she watched. He rocked slightly back and forth on his toes as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to move or not.

At first she didn’t know what to make of it, but then she realized that he was working to hold onto his control. In this moment, Adon needed her. He didn’t just want her, he needed her.

The fact that she, a tiny, barely in shape, 34 year old, college professor, could have such a devastating affect on this man, this beautiful, sexy, young man, who surely could have slept with anyone he wanted, was thrilling.

Marlie knelt on the floor between them. She reached for Adon and took him in her hand. His stomach clenched and his knuckles showed white as he struggled with himself. Marlie stroked him gently from base to tip and then squeezed lightly.

He was hot and velvety smooth in her hand. She gloried in the feel of his flesh stroking over her palm. It was like running warm silk over her hands. Adon groaned and thrust his hips in counterpoint to her stroking.

With her other hand she reached up and gripped Simon, squeezing as she did so. He wasn’t as broad as Adon, but he was longer and she delighted in stroking down his rigid length.

She dipped her head and licked the salty tears from his cockhead in a wet swipe. Simon threw his head back and hissed at her touch. He tasted of salt and musk and she savored his taste as she swallowed it down.

She turned to Adon and licked the head of his cock, swirling around the tip like he was an ice cream cone. He growled in the back of his throat and thrust his hips toward her mouth. His cock was almost purple with engorged blood and he swelled under her touch.

Marlie laughed victoriously and grinned with mischievous delight into the faces of her students. Adon and Simon stared at her in confusion, scowls crossing their face.

“Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” she said. “No, never that, but I am going to have so much fun with the two of you.”

Before either man could reply, she engulfed Adon in her mouth swallowing him down until she reached the base of his shaft. All of that practice with her toys was finally getting put to good

use. Adon hollered in surprise and pleasure. His cock felt impossibly wide in her mouth and her lips were stretched to their fullest, but she sucked him down.

His taste flooded her senses. Sunshine and life. That was what he made her think of. She pulled back until he popped out of her mouth. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but stopped when she engulfed him again sucking him harder.

Again and again she repeated this process, doing her best to drive him senseless with pleasure. His hand gripped the back of her head and he thrust urgently into her mouth.

He was quiet making no noise. The only indicator she had of his pleasure was his fist which clenched and unclenched at his side and the rigid clenching of his buttocks and lower back where she stroked him with her free hand. The other was still firmly stroking and squeezing Simon.

Without warning, Adon ripped his cock from her mouth. Marlie was knocked on her butt in surprise. Before she could react, Adon scooped her up like a child and carried her around to the front of the couch where he sat with her in his lap. He fisted her hair and wrenched her mouth to his where he proceeded to claim her lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. With his other hand he reached between her legs and thrust his fingers inside her pussy.

Marlie's body bowed under the onslaught, but she was having none of this. She wanted him in her mouth. She wanted to feel him shudder as she licked and sucked his cock. She wanted to swallow his come and know that Adon was in her blood, not just her body.

She pulled out of his arms, pushed his legs apart and knelt between them.

“I’ve wanted to touch you, suck you, for entirely too long. Don’t stop me.”

Adon looked pained, but made no move to touch her. Simon stood just behind Adon still on the other side of the couch. To him she said, “You’re next.”

Get Forbidden Fruit, a free short story, at Smashwords. ### Enjoy Gillian's Colbert's novella Coming Out of Her Shell ...

When Susan Mallory decided to take up a hobby, she hadn't expected it to be a weekly, onewoman show for her sexy neighbor, Eric Tanner. When the teasing gets out of hand, however, Eric decides to take matters, or in this case, Susan, into his own hands.

CHAPTER 1 He was there. Susan could feel his eyes on her, even if she couldn't see his face. His balcony was in shadows, but she knew he was watching her.

The very thought that he watched her in such an intimate, vulnerable moment was both thrilling and shameful. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Again.

She should stop. Just get up go back inside the house and get back to her normal and predictable life.

She was crazy to play this game. She knew nothing about him other than the easy going image he projected.

Sure, he was beautiful to her. Tall and lean with a natural athletic build. The kind of body that said he stayed active rather than pumping iron. His slightly shaggy, black hair gave him a lazy, relaxed appearance that belied the intelligence he sometimes let slip through his "don't take me too seriously" exterior.

If she had to catalog his features, she'd say that individually they were fairly ordinary. He had a broad chin, straight nose and perpetual five o'clock shadow. His eyes were the exception. They were otherworldly. Emerald green, they had captured her the minute she'd seen him at the neighborhood block party the first week she'd moved to Chester Park.

The sum of him, though, took her breath away. He had a casual grace when he moved that said, "I'm okay with who I am, so fuck off if you don't agree."

She hadn't spoken to him that day. Hadn't said anything more to him than "Hi" and "How are you?" since she'd moved in three months ago, despite living next door to him. She thought of him though. In fact, she was beginning to fear she was obsessed with him.

She'd learned his name from one of the neighbors ... Eric Tanner. Such a simple name, it rolled off the tongue beautifully. She savored its syllables, sucked them into her mouth like the cherry off the top of a sundae. She loved his name; she longed to use it intimately. To whisper it in his ear as she nibbled on the lobe. To scream it as she came around his cock and milked his climax from him.

A slight breeze stirred the air, feathering across her exposed breasts. She imagined the whisper kiss was his lips and was lost to the fantasy. Her nipples tightened painfully and moisture flooded her core.

She hadn't meant for him to see. This game they played hadn't been planned. It had been totally accidental. Truly. But, playing with Eric was seductive. Like dark chocolate, it made her ravenous and one bite was not enough. It was a heady mixture of power and vulnerability that she never wanted to end even though she knew she should stop. She would stop. She wouldn't do it again. She couldn't do it again.

Not if she wanted to respect herself.

It had started so simply. She had decided that she needed more personal time and changed her schedule at work. Truthfully, she was bored out of her skull. She'd been a corporate shepherd watching diligently over her human sheep for over 15 years and she hated it more everyday.

She was 35-years old and her life was so routine it put even her to sleep. All she did was work.

QuestCom ran like a well-oiled machine. Never let it be said she didn't do her job. She was efficient, organized and effective, but about as fun as a tax auditor.

She had no real friends, she'd never been married or in a truly serious relationship and had no children, though it could be argued that her Pug, Roxy, was her baby. She simply didn't know how to relax and be herself with people. Men especially.

Once "cold fish" had become a recurring theme in the bedroom, she'd sworn off men. What was the point? She couldn't relax enough to try some of the things they wanted her to do and she got tired of the complaints.

It wasn't that she blamed them. Even she got tired of missionary position. Nor did she think it would be very fun to screw a woman who could barely tolerate having sex with the lights on. She was repressed and she knew it, but so far there hadn't been anyone worth making the effort for.

So, to balance out her failure in the dynamic woman department, she'd made a point of being the best employee she could be. Her career had skyrocketed and she was the youngest Chief Operating Officer in her company's history. She was good at her job, but she hated it. She excelled in her role, but she was bored and it showed.

When she'd taken to just staring out the window of her office for hours at a time, she decided she needed a change. Hell, she needed a life. So, she had rearranged her schedule to take every Thursday afternoon off. Her plan was to take up a hobby. She just hadn't expected it to be masturbating for her sexy neighbor.

She hadn't known he was there that first time. She had simply gone out for a swim. After doing enough laps to leave her breathless, she'd put on her sunglasses and hat and stretched out on her favorite lounge chair to let the sun dry her off.

She'd lain there trying to remember the last time she'd had sex (two years) and fantasizing about Eric.

Wondering if he was involved with anyone. Imagining him naked and plunging into her. Without any conscious thought, she'd begun to stroke herself - outside her bikini bottoms because she never touched herself directly - until she brought herself to orgasm on the sheer fantasy of Eric.

As she'd struggled to catch her breath, a sound like a chair being pushed back drifted to her from the direction of his balcony. She opened her eyes in time to see the object of her fantasy stand up and turn to go inside.

She'd been shocked. Mortified. Humiliated. She'd stumbled to her feet and run inside as fast as she could. After locking the door, she'd slid down the wall and sat there on the cold marble tile with her arms wrapped around her knees rocking as she tried to calm the nausea roiling in her belly.

He'd seen her masturbate. Watched her at her most vulnerable moment. She'd been imagining herself with him and he'd watched as she pleasured herself. To her utter shock, as the idea sank in, rather than puke up her lunch, her nipples tightened and her pussy clenched.

The reality slammed into her. He'd watched her! Eric had seen her masturbate.

The thought was both electric and erotic. The idea of his eyes on her aroused her more than she thought possible. She broke out in goose bumps and her pussy throbbed. She refused to touch herself again though. She wanted to savor the memory of coming with his eyes on her.

And so it began. Over the weeks, she'd become more and more brazen. Touching herself in ways she'd never had the courage to before. Rather than feeling embarrassed by Eric's presence, she was emboldened. She didn't even bother with a bathing suit now.

One evening, after making sure his car was gone, she'd gone so far as to arrange the lounge chair so that the angle and distance would be such that, even though he'd have a good view, he'd have to pay close attention if he really wanted to see her.

She performed for him every Thursday afternoon at two o'clock without fail. Today was different though, today was her last performance. She'd promised herself she would stop this madness. She was becoming consumed by the fantasy of him and she couldn't take it anymore.

It was a lie and she felt like a cheat. She wasn't really this sexy, erotic woman. It was a game she was playing and it had to stop. So, today was her finale and she planned to make it good for him.

# He was hard, so hard it hurt. Eric slowly, carefully opened the zipper on his Levi's to free his straining cock. What in the hell had made him think going commando was a smart idea?

Thank god his balcony was enclosed rather than one of those open grill-work types. Most people wanted sunny, open balconies. He didn't. He preferred to sit and ponder in the shade, his feet propped up on the railing with a cold Guinness in his hand.

His balcony was his refuge. No frilly patio furniture for him. He liked solid, comfortable furniture sized for a man, but only one chair and one side table for his beer. He didn't share his balcony. At least, not with other humans. Peanut was the exception, but even his Pitbull wasn't allowed out here when he watched Her.

Eric was never more grateful for the shadows than he was when she performed. He was hanging free for the world to see and he didn't relish the idea of being seen with his pants down, literally.

Despite being in the shadows, she knew he was there. Watching her. She had to. All evidence said that this was a private show just for him and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to watch. Hell, who was he kidding, he'd gone from watching to participating weeks ago.

As he stroked his erection, he wondered if that was truly her intent. Was this a show for him? Did she do it to torture him? Drive him to distraction? Tease him to madness? Or was his ego leading him off a cliff?

What if she didn't know he was there? Maybe she just liked the idea that she might be seen. It could just be the thrill of potentially getting caught that got her off.

Eric rejected the notion. Her performances were as regular as clockwork. Two o'clock every Thursday afternoon. He'd begun clearing his schedule in order to guarantee he'd be home when she performed.

Without fail, he'd find her next to her small swimming pool, stretched out on one of her blue and white striped chaise lounges. She always wore a straw hat and sunglasses with a fine, white linen cover up. In the beginning, she'd worn a barely there bikini, but over the subsequent weeks she didn't even bother and now, she was always naked under the cover up.

If there was no thought of him watching, why be so regular? Everyone knew he ran his dog training business out of his house. She might be new to the neighborhood, but his advertisements were everywhere and most of their neighbors used him to train their dogs. She'd have to be completely selfinvolved not to know.

But still, maybe he was wrong. She'd never said more than two words to him when they ran into each other. In fact, she seemed to always be in a rush to get away from him. The few times he'd tried to engage her in conversation, she'd looked at him like he had two heads.

Eric had first seen her the day she moved in. Her long, brown hair had been pulled back in a simple pony tail. She'd worn no make up and had looked fresh and young. She'd glanced up at his house and he'd gotten a glimpse of clear skin, brown eyes and full, rosy lips. He'd instantly imagined those lips wrapped around his dick and he'd had to think of Roseanne Barr naked to force the sucker down, so he could go meet a client.

Only later had he found out that her name was Susan Mallory and she was some kind of executive suit at a local firm. He steered clear of those types. They always wanted to put you in a box and he'd had enough suits to last him a lifetime in his father.

Despite owning a successful business, his father had always treated him like a loser. The refrain never changed. His business was infantile, he dressed like a slob, he had no ambition. Their conversations consisted wholly of criticizing Eric and highly unwanted "suggestions" that were for Eric's "own good."

When his mother had been alive, Eric had tolerated his father for her sake. Once the cancer had taken her, Eric didn't even bother. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to his father and that suited him just fine.

Nope, he stayed away from suits. He liked his life and he wasn't changing to satisfy anyone else's opinion of what he should be doing with himself. If someone didn't like him, they could just fuck off.

Which brought him right back to her. Maybe these performances had nothing to do with him and she just liked to masturbate in her back yard. Maybe she just wanted to pleasure herself in the open air with the sun heating her skin and drinking in her cries as she came. Sometimes, though, he could swear she said his name Either way, she was going to kill him. Literally. It wasn't going to be an easy death either. No. She clearly planned to make it slow and tortuous. Killing him bit-by-bit, until he begged for death rather than submit to her torture.

As it was, he didn't think he could stand it even one moment longer. The ache was excruciating. He needed relief. He needed peace.

One way or another he had to end this madness, but when he did, it would be on his terms NOT hers.

She'd be the one begging. She'd be the one screaming and writhing. She'd be the one under his power.

Today was especially intense. She'd gone slow, prolonging each moment. She'd started by rubbing some kind of oil all over her body that left her glistening from head to toe. She'd lingered over her breasts, rubbing each one in turn, pushing them together and massaging the oil into them. She'd made sure to rub and play with each nipple until they were deep red and jutting out from her body before continuing down her stomach.

When she'd reached her legs, she'd lifted each one in turn. She'd massaged her calf and thigh for long moments as she exposed her pussy to him. He imagined he could see her moisture glistening, even from this distance.

After rubbing in the oil, she'd lain back and continued to leisurely rub her belly and breasts. As he watched, his impatience grew. He wanted her to continue, not leave him in suspense. He thought about standing up and demanding she go on, but rejected the notion before it was even a complete thought.

What was she doing? Why was she waiting?

Just when he thought he'd go crazy, she'd reached for her glass, some kind of blue, girlie drink, on the table next to her and sucked an ice cube into her mouth. She then slowly drew it out from between her lips.

He swallowed hard and imagined her sucking him in and out of her mouth like she'd done to that ice cube. His dick had gotten so hard at the thought that he was gritting his teeth as he worked to hold back his climax. He wasn't ready to come yet.

She began to slowly rub the ice over each rosy, nipple. He could see her belly clench and contract with each frigid touch. Her eyes were hidden by her sunglasses, but her mouth was parted slightly and he could see the tip of her tongue darting out periodically to lick her bottom lip. He wanted to feel that tongue darting out against his cock.

She continued stroking down her body with the ice cube until she reached her pussy. As he watched, she opened her legs and spread her outer lips and then inserted the ice into her pussy.

"Holy Shit," Eric groaned as he watched her fuck her pussy with the ice. His cock was jumping in his hand as he pumped his hips up and down in rhythm with her thrusts.

She strained against the chill, pushing her hips upward. Her thigh muscles flexed convulsively and she clenched her free fist around the end of the lounge chair as she worked her pussy. She kept thrusting the ice in and out until it melted and then she shocked the hell out of him by licking the moisture from her fingers.

She lay there for several moments, breathing hard. Her breasts rose and fell with each inhale. He drank her in as she lay there. The sun glinted off her skin in small flashes with every breath.

Soon, but not soon enough for Eric's cock, she resumed her ministrations to her pussy. Parting her lips and stroking her clitoris in small, lazy circles. She seemed to have all the time in the world today.

There was no rush, no urgency.

She dallied over her pussy. Alternating between thrusting her fingers deep and then circling them around and over her clit.

Eric wanted to scream his frustration. She was killing him. He couldn't stop himself from imagining what her pussy would feel like wrapped around his dick. He barely held his climax at bay. He panted through clenched teeth as sweat began to dribble down his back. He seriously contemplated barging into her back yard, throwing her legs over his shoulders and pounding his cock into her until she screamed his name over and over.

Instead, he silently begged her to put him out of his misery. He wanted to watch her come. He wanted to hear her moan.

He loved watching her come. She was beautiful when she climaxed. Arching her back so that her pert, round breasts thrust up into the air. The fingers of one hand buried in her pussy as she plucked and squeezed her nipples with the other. Her moans were music to his ears and ultimately it was the sweet, sexy little purrs she made that sent him over the edge every time.

Today was no different. Her legs tensed and her back began to arch. Finally. This was it, she'd reached the end of her tether and she was going to come.

Eric gripped his penis more firmly at the base with one hand, while he used the other to work the head of his cock harder. He squeezed the head almost to the point of pain as he waited for her to go over.

"Come on, baby," he whispered. "Let me see. That's it. Don't make me wait any longer."

Harder and faster, his hand flew up and down his shaft. He wouldn't come before she did. He made sure they came together every time and today would be no different.

Eric groaned and cursed himself for a fool. He shouldn't do this. Every single time he promised himself it was the last time. Every time he swore he'd end it. He couldn't go on with this torture. He was becoming obsessed and he knew it.

Today's performance had been the most intense yet and if he didn't do something about it soon, she was going to drive him to drastic measures. He knew if he crossed that bridge there'd be no coming back ... for either of them.

Eric panted with the strain of holding back. She was close, but she seemed to be deliberately prolonging the show. His cock throbbed as sweat bloomed all over his body. He didn't think he could go on much longer.

"Now," he groaned. "Come for me. Now." As if she'd heard his whispered command, she threw her head back as her orgasm claimed her.

Gasping and moaning, she writhed through the whirlwind.

That was all it took. As the luscious sounds of her pleasure reached his ears, he broke and together they rode the wave.

CHAPTER 2 Susan couldn't stop thinking about him. It was almost worse than when she performed for him. The last three weeks had been focused on one goal, getting past Thursday without going outside.

She'd made sure to be away from home on Thursday afternoon by enrolling in a knitting class. She'd found a class at the local A.C. Moore. It was the only class that took place at exactly 2 p.m. every Thursday. Frankly, she'd have taken wood carving if it had been Thursday at 2 p.m.

If she were home, she knew she'd be out by the pool. This was the only way she could be sure she wouldn't cave in.

She'd seen Eric a few times as he was leaving in his Jeep with his Pitbull in the back seat. She ducked back inside every time she saw him. She couldn't stand the thought of being face-to-face with him after he'd seen her so exposed. She was just as afraid that he'd see though her charade to the coward she was inside.

She'd considered signing up for one of his classes simply to have an excuse to finally meet him for real. She'd chickened out though. She was afraid she'd throw herself on him as soon as he came near her and she couldn't bear another rejection. It would hurt worse coming from him.

She could just see it. He'd step up to her and say, "We're going to work on down" whereby she'd drop to her knees and proceed to suck him off. That would go over really well with the other participants.

Susan dropped her needles into her lap. Her fingers were cramping and she'd frogged so many stitches that in three weeks, she'd only managed to knit about two inches of the scarf she'd started.

This was supposed to be easy, not rocket science. She held an MBA from the University of Maryland, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out the difference between a knit stitch and a purl stitch.

Instead of neat rows, her stitches varied in size and the scarf wasn't even rectangular. She'd had high hopes that she could channel her frustration into scarves and sweaters in chenille and silk. Each stitch would be a testament to her self-control. Instead, the would be scarf was as ragged as her nerves.

Susan was frustrated and sick of herself, her agitation and her obsession with Eric. If she wasn't going to drum up the nerve to speak to him, she needed to simply forget about him. Right, maybe she could forget her name to.

She may not be performing for him anymore, but she was still fantasizing about him and masturbating to the fantasy. Just not where he could see. Her couch, her shower, her bed, her living room floor had all been witness to her obsessive fantasy.

With a sigh, Susan collected her needles and the rolls of yarn she'd so studiously wound into balls and threw them in her Le Sport Sac. Who was she kidding? Knitting was not going to happen.

What she needed was peace of mind. The bookstore was on the way home, she'd go check out their self-help section. Who knows, maybe she could meditate her way out of this bind.

# She'd done it again. Disappeared on him as soon as he saw her. Eric whipped his Jeep into a parking spot close to the entrance. He threw the SUV into park and hopped out. She wasn't getting away from him today. He was going to run her to ground and force her to deal with him. If it had to be in the bookstore, then so be it. She'd have brought it on herself.

He'd spotted her while he waited at the light to make his turn. She'd been busy rummaging around in some kind of tote bag she was carrying and wasn't watching where she was going. She'd caught herself just as she was about to run into a pole and had glanced around quickly, her cheeks flaming, to see if she'd been caught out before ducking into the store.

Eric was determined to corner her inside. Susan may think she could continue this little cat and mouse game they were playing, but she was wrong. He was tired of her disappearing every time they happened across each other. If he were a less secure man, he'd think there was something seriously wrong with him.

He could handle rejection, but damn there should at least be something to reject first. He hadn't even so much as asked her out for coffee. She wouldn't let him get close enough. It's not like he was trying to marry her or anything, he just wanted to fuck her.

After all the weeks of torture, he'd had an epiphany. The months of teasing had gotten under his skin.

It was like walking by a candy store and seeing all of the mouth watering candy on display only to realize the store was closed. Eventually, the longing would get so bad that you just had to get some of that candy and only gorging on it made the desire go away.

This led Eric to the only logical conclusion ... the fastest way to stop thinking about Susan, was to do the deed. Often. She was a suit after all, and eventually she'd irritate him enough with all her demands to change that he wouldn't want to see her anymore let alone screw her. 'Nuf said.

Decision made, he'd been trying to speak to her for the last three weeks, but she'd avoided him like the plague. He didn't even see her leave in the mornings anymore.

At first, he hadn't really thought much about it. It wasn't as if they'd been tripping over each other before, but there had been incidental meetings. When she didn't show up for her Thursday performance, he'd been surprised, then relieved and then seriously frustrated.

What made her think she could get him habituated to her weekly show and then leave him high and dry? Oh no, she wasn't getting off that easy. She was going to have to explain herself. Now. He'd had his shoes on and his keys in hand before sanity had reigned and he'd realized he sounded insane. She'd probably have him arrested if he showed up on her doorstep demanding to know why she wasn't masturbating in her backyard.

Right. He'd end up in the psych ward quicker than you could say "bat shit crazy."

But his reaction had let him know one thing ... it was time to take charge of the situation. So, he'd begun waiting for her. He wanted to introduce himself, ask her out for coffee. Nothing serious, just start the process of getting to know her. No big.

Well, you can't get to know someone when you can't even manage to exchange two words with them.

When Susan didn't show up the second week, he'd suspected that it was over. She wasn't going to perform for him anymore. Two weeks in a row wasn't a coincidence. The third week clinched it though.

She really wasn't going to come out again.

He'd decided there and then that he was going to have to run her to ground. If she wasn't going to come out of her shell the easy way, he'd force her out.

He hadn't spent months fantasizing about all the ways he wanted to fuck her to end it like this. When she'd been performing, he hadn't needed to press the issue. They had their weekly date. He could take his time.

Truth is, he'd scared off more women than he could count. Vanilla sex wasn't his thing and he didn't like to pretend. Sex for him was full-throttle, dominance and submission. He dominated, she submitted.

Nothing else would do.

He suspected she'd be into it though. She certainly had a touch of the exhibitionist in her. He was willing to bet that she'd like watching too.

He certainly planned to find out exactly what her limits were and then push her past them. Just thinking about her laid out before him, at his mercy, waiting for his touch had his cock leaping to attention so fast it was almost painful.

But, he'd have to get her into bed first and he wasn't having such an easy time with that.

She'd proven more slippery than an eel. It had almost become a game in and of itself. He'd see her; she'd duck back in her house.

He'd pull into his drive way; she'd be backing out of hers. Had she mapped out his schedule or something just to avoid him?

At this stage, his last nerve wasn't just worked, it was flayed beyond all recognition. He was frustrated and his temper was short. He'd had to cut his class short this morning after he'd hollered at Jalil, a sweet, little Rottweiler puppy, for not settling down quickly enough. Mike, her owner, had been shocked. Eric was known for his patience with dogs of all energy levels.

He'd known then that Susan's time had run out. He wanted her out of his head and riding his cock.

That simple.

This was the first time he'd come across her in town. She had good taste in bookstores at least. Ex Libris, the local bookstore and hanging spot, was one of his favorite places. The front of the store sported a coffee bar with club chairs and loveseats for those patrons who wanted to camp out and read the New York Times or the latest James Patterson thriller.

Jack, the owner, made sure you could get a good, solid cup of normal coffee along with all of the fru fru macchiatos and lattes. Good coffee was important to Eric. He loved to walk Peanut down to Ex Libris, grab a coffee regular and sit on the patio with the daily paper.

The back of the store was the best though, rows upon rows of books. He loved books of all types.

Fiction, non-fiction, self-help, you name the genre and he read it. Except for romance, he drew the line at romance.

He spotted her turning into self-help. That was perfect for him. It was the last row in the back of the store and he knew for a fact that she'd have nowhere to go once he got to her.

All of the stacks in Ex Libris butted up against the walls in order to create a walkway down the middle. That meant that once inside the aisle, you had to come back out the same way.

Also working in Eric's favor was the fact that the cases were closed with panels in between each side rather than the kind that were completely open so that you could see through them. He should be able to talk with her privately.

Eric stalked Susan down the aisle. She wasn't getting away from him this time. He rounded the corner on the self-help aisle and stopped in his tracks.

She was standing catty-corner to him paging through a book on Zen. She was concentrating on the book and hadn't noticed him yet.

He took in the sight of her. She was beautiful in a completely unaffected way. He'd never seen her wear makeup or revealing clothes. She carried herself demurely, but clearly that hid a wild side that he intended to explore.

She wore a red, cotton tank top that clung to her full breasts and some kind of work out pants that hugged a tight, round ass. The air conditioning kicked on and her nipples hardened in the cold. She wasn't wearing a bra.

He must have made some kind of noise because she looked up, gasped and promptly dropped her book. She scrambled to pick it up and rush past him, but he wasn't having any of that.

He caught her by the waist and pulled her back against him. Her breath whooshed out of her and he pressed her tightly against him.

"Slow down, now. There's no need to run off," Eric said quietly into her ear. "I just want to talk with you."

"What do you want?" her voice trembled slightly.

"Susan, I'm not going to hurt you," he soothed. "I've been trying to speak with you for several weeks now. I think you know that since you seem to be going out of your way to avoid me."

"I don't know what you mean," she protested as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Oh, I think you do."

Eric leaned down and inhaled her scent. She smelled of cinnamon and oranges. Susan went very still in his arms. Her breasts rested on his forearms and she was breathing very quickly.

"I've spent weeks wondering whether you felt as good as you looked. Watching you pleasure yourself. Imagining it was my cock between your legs instead of your fingers." He nuzzled her neck.

"But, you already know I was watching you, don't you."

As he spoke, Eric brought his hand up and squeezed her breast while the other reached down and cupped her pussy through her yoga pants. Susan gasped and arched against him, but she didn't to pull away. He took that as a sign of encouragement.

Her breast filled his hand as he massaged and played. She moaned quietly and pushed herself harder into his hand. Eric slowly palmed her pebbled nipple, pressing hard before tweaking the tip with thumb and forefinger. Her head fell back against his shoulder as she bit her bottom lip to keep from making any noise.

Watching her small, white teeth nibble her bottom lip sent visions of her mouth wrapped around his cock running through his brain. Eric's cock twitched, hard. If he didn't wrap this up, he was going to bend her over and fuck her right up against the stacks.

Wouldn't that be a funny sight, the dog trainer doing it doggy style.

"I've decided that it's time to play a new game," Eric whispered in her ear. "One where I set the terms."

He continued to nuzzle her neck as he spoke, flicking his tongue along the sensitive skin.

"What are you talking about?" Susan said on a gasp as he tugged her sensitized nipple through the thin material of her tank top.

"You'll see in due time. In the meantime, you're going to answer my questions."

Eric released her pussy and thrust his fore and middle fingers into her mouth.

"Suck," he commanded. To his surprise, rather than obey him, Susan captured his hand and proceeded to lick up and around each digit before biting down gently. He felt the nip of her teeth right down into his balls. Eric ground his erection against the crease of her ass wanting desperately to plunge his cock inside her.

"Not so meek after all, are you."

Eric nipped her earlobe and then proceeded to thrust the fingers she'd just finished licking down her pants. He delved into her folds with no hesitation. She was unbelievably wet and so, so hot. He groaned at the thought of all that heat squeezing his dick as he pounded into her.

"Stop," Susan hissed as she futilely tried to push his hand away. "Someone might see."

Eric chuckled wickedly and just gripped her more tightly.

"Since when does that bother you?"

"I have questions, little one," he whispered against her neck. "Questions you're going to answer."

Rather than stop, Eric began to finger her right there in the middle of Ex Libris. As he set up a hectic rhythm on her clitoris, he tugged and squeezed her nipple.

Soon, she was writhing against him, rubbing her sweet little ass against his cock over and over. He was rapidly losing control of the situation. He'd planned to just ask her out, but when he'd felt her up against him all he could think about was getting some part of him inside her ... now.

"Did you perform for me or do you just like to get off outside?" Eric growled his voice guttural with lust.

She hesitated so long Eric didn't think she'd answer. She was riding his hand now, grinding her hips against him as he tortured her clitoris.

He wasn't letting her off the hook, though. He'd come for answers and he was going to get them. Eric pinched her clitoris until she gasped.

"Answer me."

"It was for you," Susan gasped. "I've never done that before."

"Did you fantasize about me while you masturbated? Did you imagine I was fucking you?"

Susan hesitated again. This time he tugged hard on her nipple causing her to groan.

"Yes," she elongated the word on a groan of pleasure.

Eric abruptly stopped his exploration of her body and set her away from him.

"I expect you to be at my house at exactly 2 p.m. next Thursday. Don't be late."

Eric reached down, picked up the fallen book and handed it to her.

"Oh, and one more thing. If you don't show up, I'll hunt you down and bring you to my house bodily, so save us both the trouble and be there."

With those words, Eric turned and left the store grinning from ear to ear.

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