Smut in the City (Absolute Erotica) (10 page)

The anticipation of being caught in the act heightened every nerve in my body until it was singing with desire. Every caress, every thrust made me greedy for more. I felt as though I would never have enough of Mickey Finn. The reality was that in a week or so I’d be bored and this would be over. I knew myself well enough to know that this would go the same way as all the others. I sighed as I clung to his back, feeling the strength of him as the muscles flexed beneath my fingers. He took this as encouragement and slipped his fingers down to my rub my clit as he fucked harder into me. I leaned my head back against the door and gave myself up to his relentless passion, feeling the build of my release starting in my chest and fizzing down my stomach into my pussy. I clenched around him and he growled out his need, my legs gripping his waist as I pushed up to meet every thrust. Our coupling was animalistic, urgent and passionate. I kissed him, biting his lip, moaning his name as I let him drive me towards my release. It took me without mercy and I could see stars as my body shook with the intensity of it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Natalia,” Mickey growled as I gripped him, sucking him deep inside me and then he was done, his huge frame shaking and bucking as he lost control of himself, almost crying my name. I felt like a goddess, I was invincible. I could have any man I wanted. Then it was over and he pulled out of me his eyes darting around like a cornered animal. He’d had what he came for and he had to go before Luca started wondering where he was. A quick kiss and he disappeared, his only parting gift a promise that we would do it again, and soon.

I leaned back against the cool wall, lighting another Marlboro, sucking greedily on the little white stick as though it would cure the dull ache in my heart. It didn’t. I was numb, disappointed and guilty. I checked the Cartier watch Luca had given me and crushed the cigarette beneath my red satin peep toe shoes. It was time to shine.

Back at the palatial villa in the middle of the desert that I called home, I watched as Luca poured us both a drink. A straight whiskey for him and a Dirty Martini for me. He made each drink with the same slow, measured deliberateness that he employed with everything he did. It made me feel safe and scared me at the same time. It was as though he was holding himself in, as though he knew that if he didn’t take such care with his task he would hurt somebody. I’d watched him act this way before he did a hit, or before he disciplined his boys. He might be a down and dirty gangster but he had never laid a finger on me. But tonight as I watched him pour the drinks a finger of fear slid up my back. I wondered if he knew about me and Mickey.

The glow of Vegas spilled through the darkness and into the room, the multi-coloured lights of the hotels and bars on the strip making patterns on the floor. I loved how we were so close the lights could still colour our world but far enough away to feel like we were in our own little piece of paradise.

Then Luca turned and walked towards me, his face a big happy smile and I let out the breath that I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. He loved me still, he didn’t suspect a thing. I could put it behind me and come back to him, just like I told myself the last time. The problem was I was easily bored, easily distracted and one day it would be my downfall; just not today.

I took the drink and sipped it gently, watching him as he sat down on the white leather sofa in the middle of the huge living room. The fan was on and a cool breeze moved through the thick desert air making my nipples stand to attention. I glided over to him, the hem of my dress dragging on the cool tiles where I’d taken off my heels the minute we got in, relieved to be free of them.

“Natalia,” he murmured, pulling me down next to him. “You were so beautiful tonight, baby, you made me so proud.”

I smiled up at him, my heart ready to burst with love for this big bear of a man who worshipped me despite everything that was wrong with me. “I always try to make you happy, Luca,” I said, twirling my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He turned his face to me and I kissed him, trailing tiny kisses over his nose, his top lip before planting my lips on his and letting him possess my mouth.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said after a moment, “we should buy that place, make it yours. You’re the star whenever you sing there, you should have somewhere you can showcase that gorgeous voice and body of yours whenever you want. I know it’s been your dream since you were a little girl. Let me make it come true for you, sweetheart.”

“Buy it?” I gasped. “You’d do that for me? Oh Luca that would be wonderful.” I could barely believe what I was hearing. I’d wanted to have my own Cabaret bar and restaurant for as long as I could remember. Somewhere to pay homage to the icons of the 1950s who had brought the glamour to Vegas before it became a jaded bustle of drunks and tacky weddings. Somewhere I could design my own shows, perform as the headline act every night if I wanted. I wrapped my arms around him and curled my body against his, wanting to show him how much his gift meant to me. “Oh Luca,” I murmured, “I love you so much baby.”

He lay back on the sofa pulling me so I was straddling him; my long red dress rucked right up around my lily white thighs, a stunning contrast in the half light of the living room. His hands were tanned, making me look even paler as he slid them slowly up towards my pussy. I spread my legs allowing him easier access to the wet musk of my core, anticipating his gentle caress. My thighs quivered as he traced higher and I threw back my head and closed my eyes. A soft sigh escaped my lips as he reached his target and his thick fingers traced a line from my mound, over my clit to the base of my soaking slit. With a tweak of his finger and thumb my panties were off, the flimsy material torn from my body, exposing the dark pink centre of my desire. I felt wanton and desperate to feel him touch me. He looked at me, his eyes drawn to the secret place he had revealed and slowly, deliberately he pushed his thick middle finger between my lips, parting them, impaling me on his meaty digit. It was exquisite watching him watch me open up for him, my pussy juice running down his finger and onto his hand. He grinned up at me, enjoying seeing me squirm as he pushed into me then gently extracted himself until only the tip was inside. I bucked against him, wanting more than he would allow. I wanted a second finger, a third; I wanted to be filled with him. He pushed back inside me, then with his other hand he slid down the straps of my dress, exposing my hard, pink nipples to the cold air from the fan. I moaned like the harlot he had turned me into and pushed the hard tip towards his lips. He indulged me, sucking me into the warm depths of his mouth and teasing it until it was so hard it was painful. All the while his finger slid in and out of my cunt, his thumb occasionally brushing the hard nub of my overly sensitive clit making me mewl with pleasure. He knew exactly how to turn me on. So much better than the hard and fast fucking of my many lovers; Luca was slow, sensual, drawing the orgasm out of me bit by bit, the final release like a tidal wave crushing me until I could barely breathe.

A second finger joined the first and I watched as my pussy stretched to let it in. I loved to feel his eyes on me, as he watched me give myself to him. I wanted him to know that I was always his, that no one else had ever come close to making me feel the way he did. Ours eyes met and I knew that he knew how I felt. His eyes were black with desire, nothing but what was happening between us in his mind. When we fucked was the only time that he didn’t think about work, the family, the danger he was constantly in. I gave him the space to relax. His fingers pushing into me made a wet sucking noise in the quiet of the night. We held our breath listening to the sounds of our bodies, soft kisses, slurps, wet squelches. Nothing else mattered. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt, tracing the scars on his chest, the markings of a hero, scars that told a story about how he had risen to where he was. Bullet holes that had pinked to tiny dents down his right hand side, a knife wound across his stomach. I knew them all, knew the story behind them as though it was my own life story. He didn’t flinch; he wore his scars like a badge of honour and his fingers searched out mine; a thin white line across my chest where my mother had tried to slit my throat and missed because she was too drunk to focus on me. He closed his eyes as he touched it, remembering the night he had nearly lost me. I took his hand and kissed each finger, pushing myself onto him to try and erase the memories.

He gazed into my eyes and without saying anything, sucked my other nipple into his mouth. His hand gripped my ass, pulling me harder towards him. His fingers weren’t enough, I wanted to feel his dick in my mouth, wanted to make him feel as good as I did and I rose up onto my knees, letting him slide out of me. He knew what I wanted and when I slid off his lap and onto my knees on the tiles in front of him, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his flies. I pulled his trousers down and tossed them across the floor. He never wore shorts and his huge prick stood erect, sprouting from between his legs. I gripped it with my hand and put my lips to the swollen purple head, tracing my tongue across the slit, watching him writhe beneath my touch. I enveloped him with my lips, the scarlet of my lipstick smearing down the shaft, the lily white of my hands contrasting with the swarthy tanned skin of his body. We looked so beautiful together I thought as I worked my mouth up and down his cock. He tasted of sweat, his musk filling my nostrils making me moan. Tasting him turned me on; I knew that the sight of my head between his legs was his favourite thing, that he loved watching my mouth slide up and down his dick. It made him feel that I was his and his alone, that I succumbed to him, and that I was his possession.

I opened my mouth and swallowed down as much as I could, my gag reflex tightening my throat around the thick bulbous end, making him grip my head, pulling my hair as he thrust into me.

“Get up baby,” he growled and he pulled me to my feet, my dress pooling round my ankles as I did. I stood naked before him, my body reflected in the big windows that made the walls of the room. I could see myself hundreds of times, every way that I looked. He twirled me around, his eyes devouring me from every angle, holding my hand above me head as he spun me. I wanted to throw myself open for him, to feel his eyes on every inch of my body. Then he walked me to the fireplace and pushed me forward, putting my hands on the wall and bending me so that my ass was tipped up, exposing the soft pink of my pussy to him. I spread my legs. My cunt glistened in the glow of the side lamps on the table beside us and he knelt between them. His tongue was hot as it delved between my lips, pushing its way into my tight channel. I moaned, my hands gripping the ornate carving of the fireplace, squealing as his tongue found my clit and bathed it in hot saliva, lapping at me until I was crying with the need to come. Then he stood, his fingers opening me as the thick head of his cock probed my soaking folds. He eased it into me, his fingers helping, his thumb never leaving my clit, drawing my juices out to aid the passage of his dick with as much lubrication as possible. He was so big I felt like he would split me in two, but as he slipped inside me inch by inch the pain gave way to pleasure as he stretched me and filled me. His cock rubbed exquisitely against my g-spot, massaging me to a sudden and intense orgasm which shook my body and made me cry out. He held my hips as I shuddered before him, riding the pulsing of my pussy, holding himself until I was spent. Then he gripped me tight and fucked me hard, relentlessly filling me, flesh slapping against flesh, my pussy open wide to let him in, my body a toy in his hands, pushed this way and that as he took his pleasure, until I came again, his finger on my clit. Then with a guttural moan he thrust hard into me one last time and unloaded his cock inside me, the thick spurt of come filling me, oozing out and dripping down my leg, his dick so big there was nowhere else for it to go. I leaned against the fireplace, weak and used, completely possessed and he pulled slowly out, picking me up and carrying me to our bed. I curled around him in the darkness and whispered how much I loved him. He told me he loved me too. I closed my eyes and dreamed of staying this happy forever. I wanted to be this way always.

“I had Mickey taken care of,” he whispered as we lay in the dark, “he was becoming a bit of a problem.”

My heart beat faster in my chest for a moment and then I felt a ridiculous wave of relief. He had saved me again, just like he always did. I wrapped my arm tighter around his body and kissed his chest. “Thank you,” I whispered into the darkness.

Mad Fer It In Manchester

By Victoria Blisse

Bored. No two ways about it, I am bored. The worrying thing is we’re only half an hour into this day of training. I never used to tell my mum I was bored when I was younger, she’d find me chores to do if I did, but right now I could go for mopping the cellar steps or reorganising the linen closet.

I really didn’t want to come to this stupid thing anyway but I had to, it’s a required course and there are members of the company from all over the north west here today. At least I only had my usual daily commute into Manchester to negotiate. Nothing new there.

But the sun is shining, a real rarity of late in the murky north and I want to be out in it, soaking up the heat, enjoying an ice cream and ogling all the cute guys with shorts on and tops off. I’m otherwise engaged though. All day this stupid seminar will drone on. I do hope I don’t fall asleep.

“Geez, I’m sorry I’m late.” A flurry of suit, briefcase and hot guy explodes through the conference room door. “I got stuck in the most evil traffic on the M60 and then I got turned around in the one way system.”

“That’s quite alright,” the leader of this bore-fest says through gritted teeth, “please sit yourself down now Mr--?”

“Carter, Stuart Carter.”

“Take a seat, Mr Carter and let’s get on.”

Stuart smiles, nods and scurries over the room to sit in the chair beside me. I grin up at him sympathetically and he responds with a wink.

What a gorgeous man. His eyes are dark like treacle toffee, his hair a similar shade but with golden syrup streaks bleached in by the summer sun. His chin is chiselled, completely clean shaven and his lips are ripe raspberries, plump for the kissing.

All these food analogies mean I must be hungry. Though right now I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for Stuart. I roll my thick wodge of sheets over the table to share with him and point out where we are.

“Thanks,” he whispers and covers my hand with his and squeezes in gratitude. My stomach flips, heat pools in my cheeks and I wiggle in my seat as I become very aware of my damp, plumped up lower lips. Bloody hell, I’m so very turned on and he’s only brushed his fingers over mine. Now I’m thinking about other places he could run his fingers over. Blimey, it’s gotten hot all of a sudden.

I don’t think the informative training gets any more interesting, I don’t know because I’m not listening at all, I’m too busy day dreaming and taking sneaky peeks at Stuart. I swear I am an adult, all grown up and mature enough not to fawn over the boy I fancy. But I feel like a heady teenager when his gaze meets mine as I look at him again. My cheeks burn and I drop my gaze to the table before me. Why was he looking at me? Was I staring at him? Did I have half my breakfast stuck in my teeth, was I drooling?

Maybe, just maybe, he was checking me out, too.

“So, what’s your name?” Stuart turns to me in the queue for coffee at the break.

“Lauren,” I reply, “you’re Stuart, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Which branch you from?”

“Manchester, you?”

“Liverpool.”

Silence falls as I pour a cup of coffee for myself then for him, too.

“So, did I miss anything this morning?”

“Nah, it’s been boring as hell since the start.”

“Oh, I’m glad you said that, I thought it was just me bored out of my brains.”

“No you’re definitely not alone there.”

“So that’s why you were looking at me.”

I splutter mid-mouthful of coffee.

“No...well, yes but no.”

“As long as I’ve not got toothpaste all over my collar or something, it’s fine.” He smiles. I think he’s teasing me.

“No, no toothpaste, just a huge bogey on your nose.”

He raises his hand to touch the tip of it. I giggle.

“Cheeky,” he laughs, “I believed you then.”

Coffee break doesn’t last long enough at all and so I’m back at the table listening to Ms. Boring droning on again. I don’t really mind, I’m still not paying her any attention. I am trying to work out if Stuart is just friendly or if he’s actually flirting with me. I always struggle with the difference. I’ve been rejected by guys I was certain were into me and missed out on others who’ve been crazy over me. I always second guess myself. I’m bubbly and mostly happy with my curves but years of fat taunts have taken their toll on my confidence and so I spend too much time worrying instead of acting on sexy impulses.

I don’t have time to beat around the bush here if I want to get it on with Stuart--and I do, I really do--I need to act fast. I’m just pondering what to say to him when I am surprised to feel a warm hand brushing my thigh. I imagine it’s a mistake at first and then the pressure increases and my flesh is being squeezed and even I know that is a signal that a guy wants to be more than friends.

Holy shit, Stuart is interested in me. I glance to the side and he winks at me. I hold in a moan when his touch rises along my inner thigh and under my boring grey work skirt. Bloody hell, he’s not hanging around. My heart palpitates and I wonder just how far he’s going to take this, here in public. Okay, so no one’s looking under the table but still, I feel very exposed and I don’t know what he’s going to do next, I’m not sure if I am scared or excited or if there’s some weird mixture of the two emotions blending within me.

Both of my hands are on top of the desk so I surreptitiously slide one down and under the table. In a brave, or maybe stupid, move I place my hand over his on my thigh and squeeze. I wait a second, holding my breath and then he squeezes my thigh in response. Holy crap, I do believe I have just successfully made a move on a man. But what do I do next?

“Okay, everyone, we’ll call that quits for now. You’ve got an hour for your dinner, be back here at one thirty prompt, please.”

Luckily I don’t need to make a decision.

“Where shall we go for lunch?” Stuart asks as we stand and untangle hands and thighs.

“Let’s just grab some sandwiches, there’s a shop over the road and then we can eat them in the gardens near the fountain.”

“Good choice,” he smiles and my insides do cartwheels. I’m not really hungry, anyway. Well I am, but not for food. Maybe I should just drag him into the nearest empty room for a shag? No, I’m just not that brazen. We go to the shop, choose our sandwiches and drinks then take them over to the gardens. It’s busy, full of students and business people and workmen in overalls and mums and children stopping for a break from their shopping. We manage to find a spot on the grass opposite the water feature. It was something new they put in after the bomb, it’s all slick and white and minimalistic-looking but every now and then water shoots up from it into the sky, much to the delight of the children playing on it.

“Do you come here often?” Stuart asks.

“Oh come on, you can think of a better pick up line than that,” I tease and much to my delight his cheeks flush red in response.

“No, well yes...I mean - ”

“I come here most lunch times in the summer,” I take pity on him and his floundering. “It’s a nice place to relax and unwind in the middle of the madness of city life.”

“Do you like living in Manchester?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t live here in the city centre, I live a little out where it’s not quite so busy. But yeah, I like it here. I was born and bred in the area. How about you and Liverpool?”

I hadn’t detected any of the distinctive Scouse sound around his accent so I was curious as to what kept him there.

“Well, I do love Liverpool. The people are really friendly and totally up for a laugh but it’s not where I was born. I’m just there for the job.”

“What’s the Liverpool office like, then?”

“Busy,” he replies, then frowns, “a bit lonely too. People avoid me ever since...” He pauses and I wonder whether he will continue, “well, you don’t need to know the boring details but I was going out with one of the girls there and now I’m not but the break up was a tad more complicated than that and everyone has taken her side of things.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I stroke his arm in an attempt to comfort him when inside I’m quite happy to have received confirmation he’s single.

“Yeah, well, these things happen. I’m looking to move office anyway.”

We munch on in silence and watch the kids hurtling through the water.

“I don’t know how they do it,” I laugh, “that water must be freezing.”

“Oh, it looks fun to me,” Stuart grins. “And I’m so hot in this damn suit.”

“Yes you are,” I reply without thinking and his smile expands to cover his whole face. I try to find some way of covering up my little slip. “So go on then, I dare you to stand on there with the kiddies.”

“I bet you I can do it and not get wet.”

“How much?”

“Winner gets a kiss.”

Now that sounds like a win-win situation to me.

“You’re on!” I settle back in the grass. He jumps up, pulls off his jacket and drops it to the floor beside me. It smells of him, spicy and fresh. I resist the urge to run the heavy material against my cheek. I carry on watching him and yes, he’s doing it. He’s standing in the middle of the fountain. It’s completely dry now but it’s obviously going to spurt soon. The little kids are laughing nervously, anticipating the cooling jets that will explode beneath them at any minute. I hold my breath. Will he get wet?

“Ha, see!” He taunts as the water shoots up a metre or so away from him, “told you.”

I’m just about to respond when a spout of water comes to my rescue and squirts up directly beside him, showering him in ice cold water.

“You were saying?” I clap my hands in delight.

He just laughs and wipes his wet hair from his eyes. His white shirt is clinging to his chest now and I can see the outline of his nipples and the dip of his bellybutton.

“Come on in, Lauren, the water is fine.”

“No, we need to go get you dry.” I look at my watch. “We’ve only got twenty minutes.”

“Okay, bring me my jacket.”

I stand and walk towards the fountain. He’s perched on the edge and holds out his hand. I pass him the jacket but he grabs hold of me and pulls me towards him. I follow him with a yell, leaping up the step and onto the wet marble top.

“What are you doing?” I squeal, “I’ll get soaked.”

“That’s what I am hoping for.” He spins me round right into the path of one of the jets. I scream as the water soaks through my skirt and my blouse and hits my heated cheeks. It’s icy cold and all my senses jump alive from the shock.

“You little...” Just in time I remember we’re surrounded by kids so I refrain from calling him a nasty name. He laughs, grabs me around the waist and pulls me to him.

“I like you wet,” he whispers, wiping a strand of clinging hair from my face. My gaze stays locked with his and I nervously lick my top lip. He follows the action with the movement of his eyes and then the space between our mouths is only millimetres and suddenly he’s kissing me. His flesh is soft, hot and giving in contrast to the coldness of my skin. Water rains around us, the kids’ whoops of delight and the hubbub of city life just fades away like someone has turned the volume down. All I am aware of is him. His wet chest pressed against my breasts, our sodden tops squelching between us. His hands in my hair, pulling and cupping at my brunette curls, bringing me deeper into the kiss and the touch of his tongue as it insinuates its way between our lips to spark off raw lust within me.

We are forced apart by a fierce shot of water directly between us to the delight and applause of the people watching. He laughs and pulls me away from the water and back into his embrace. His now wet suit jacket slaps around his back as I hug him.

“Now I think we should go find somewhere quiet to get dry, just me and you, yes?”

I nod in response, the cold water has taken my breath away and all my words too. We join hands and walk away from the cooling spouts and the kiddies weaving in and out of them. His wet jacket slapping against my thigh, my damp handbag hanging limply with it.

“Follow me,” I say to Stuart when we approach the main doors of my office building, “I know a back way in.”

“Hey,” I nod to Carl the caretaker as we walk in the open fire door behind him. Carl barely bats an eye, he just continues to suckle on his wrinkled up roll up and ignores us.

“Lunchtime means Carl’s fag break,” I grin, “I knew he’d have the fire door open. Now if we’re in luck...yes!”

I push on the door to the stock room and it opens. I pull Stuart in after me then slam the door shut behind us. I look to the side, pick up a brush and jam it beneath the door handle.

“Bloody hell, Lauren. Have you done this before?”

“Sometimes a girl needs a bit of space to finish reading a book or to enjoy a bit of self pleasure. It’s certainly more pleasant in here than in the ladies loos.” I drop my bag to the floor and look around.

“Point taken.” He nods.

“Now, let’s get these clothes off. If we hang them over the air conditioning vent they might dry a bit.”

“God knows, I love a forward woman.” Stuart fumbles open the buttons on his shirt.

I laugh and kick off my shoes then I undo the buttons on my blouse. I hope I’ve got on some fairly decent underwear under all this. I generally just pull out the first things in my drawer. My bra is cotton and practical but at least it is still white and not the well-worn grey of the majority of my collection.

Stuart’s moan seems to indicate he likes the way it clings to me in its current damp condition. He’s got his shirt off now and the breath catches in my throat. He’s hard and lithe and I want to run my hands over his lightly tanned skin. He passes me his shirt and I hang it with mine by the vent. I lay out his suit jacket and his trousers too then scoot out of my skirt.

It slips from my fingers and to the floor as Stuart grabs me and pulls me in for a ferocious kiss. I return it with passion, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to cling on I smooth my body to his and feel the significant bulge at crotch level. Fuck, he’s turned on like I am. My knickers, I don’t know if they’re decent or not, I forgot to check, are damp but I know it’s not from the water fight. Stuart has me so hot that I feel like my core is melting. My knees buckle under the pleasure onslaught as he insinuates a hand down between us and against the damp crotch of my underwear.