Vodka On Ice
"What I really do," she said with great seriousness, "is sew American flags for the CIA." At his look of exasperation, she continued the fabrication. "Hey! Someone has to make the flags. How do you suppose they get made? Betty Crocker's dead!"
Nick burst out laughing. "It wasn't Betty Crocker who made the flag."
"Oh yeah? Who was it?"
"I can't remember," he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "But I know it wasn't Betty Crocker. Now tell me what you really do."
She sighed heavily. "I paint houses and I upholster furniture."
"Uh-huh," he agreed, shaking his head but going along with the game, tallying her lies, knowing he was going to punish her for them. "And in your spare time...?" he arched a brow at her.
"In my spare time, I'm a mechanic. I specialize in fixing government cars."
"I sell AVON door to door. Can I interest you in...?"
He pushed her onto her back and ran his hands down her sides. When he discovered how ticklish she was, he proceeded to torment her. Holding her arms above her head with one hand, he tickled her unmercifully with the other. When she tried to kick him to get him to stop, he threw a heavy thigh over hers, effectively immobilizing her.
She squirmed and laughed till her lungs ached and when she started gasping for every breath, she gave in and yelled, "Uncle!"
He ignored her surrender, abruptly switching from tickling to a teasing spanking that made her arch her hips into his hands. He smiled as goose bumps rose on her skin and she shivered from the sensation.
"Are you going to tell me?" he growled softly, loving the blush that had risen on her cheeks.
"I..." she gasped for a decent breath. "I annoy Assistant Chairmen of Security, Ltd. and strip for them and I..."
He flipped her over, covered her mouth with his, his tongue slipping easily between her lips, persistent and demanding. Fingers kneaded the fullness of her fleshy breasts, and he purposely raked the edge of a fingernail back and forth over one nipple. Small, gasping whimpers escaped from her mouth, making him wonder what sounds she would make if he tugged on it. So he did.
Her back arched and she squirmed, vacillating between moving away from his mouth and trying to get closer. One of her legs escaped the confines of his thigh as he shifted positions. She kicked him as hard as she could. Her aim was off. Much to her chagrin, she didn't hit anything vital, and for some reason, that incensed her. In frustration, she banged her heel on his back. It took several seconds before her brain sent the message to her foot. Damn! That hurts!
Nick felt her kick him in the side, but it didn't register as a kick, just a tap. When she banged her foot on his back, he chuckled, finally sensing her irritation. Slipping his arm under her leg, he pushed it to the side, exposing her sex to his frank gaze. He swallowed hard.
She is so sweet, so damn luscious!
Releasing her hands, he slid his arms under her ass and raised her body to meet his mouth. He pulled her closer, settling her thighs on his shoulders and her labia less than an inch from his mouth. He took a deep breath, pausing to fill his lungs, inhaling her woman's scent. Finally sinking his lips into her soft, sweet heat, he feasted.
Sacha's foot hurt, and she was sure she should be mad at him, but she couldn't think rationally. His arms held her, his mouth was devouring her, and the feeling was indescribable. Her mind no longer focused; it was elsewhere, a voyeur, watching and listening. Her body was his to control, and he did control it. She was spinning round and round... and climbing... almost there... and floating.
She opened her eyes and saw his warm brown ones watching her. There was a film of moisture on his brow, his cheeks were flushed, and he was licking his lips.
"Do I taste good?" she asked when she could take a breath.
"Very good," he murmured, staring at her. He leaned over her body, balancing his weight on his forearms.
"How good is good?" Purposely, she provoked him. "Better than... better than pistachio ice cream?"
"More like crème brûlé," he teased. "Smoky, creamy, and sweet.
"That's very good," he confirmed, capturing her mouth, and rubbing his tongue against hers.
"Are you going to f...f... love me now?"
"I just loved you," he teased, licking her lips. He briefly sucked her tongue into his mouth, and released it just as he swallowed. The sudden sensation startled her and she jerked back. "You want me to love you again, now, this minute, so soon?"
"I meant... love me so you could... uh, you didn't... you haven't..." Sacha sighed. "Never mind."
Nick chuckled. He knew what she meant, but she still hadn't told him what he wanted to know.
He moved to the center of the bed and took her foot in his hand. Holding it gently, he licked the arch, making her pull back from his grasp.
"That tickles," she complained, trying to pull away.
"You hurt your foot kicking me, didn't you?"
"So, I need to kiss it and make the pain go away."
"Necessary." He held her foot firmly and continued to lick the arch. Sacha's toes curled and shivers darted up her legs to her thighs and higher. He kissed her heel and licked it slowly, and then he sucked on the sore flesh, rubbing his tongue over it, making her squirm.
"Enough!" she yelled. "I can't take any more!"
"What do you do, Sacha Ella Brody?" he asked with a feral grin. "Besides strip for me... and occasionally, make soup?" Her foot was still in his hand.
Sacha didn't respond.
He spread her toes, his tongue slowly licking the sensitive skin between each one. And then he sucked her little toe into his mouth, running his tongue around it, nibbling it lightly.
She moaned softly.
"What do you do for a living, Sacha?"
She remained silent.
His tongue moved to the next toe, which was even more sensitive than the smaller one and he lavished a great deal of attention on it, making her moan and squirm. He smothered his laughter when she cursed him under her breath, the word "fuck" prominent in her mutterings.
"No foul language, Sacha, or pay the consequences. Now, what do you do?"
"I do very well, thank you," she moaned, jerking her foot away from him.
He was not so easily thwarted, and he started tickling her again, enjoying her laughter. Her entire body was rosy from her exertions, and he thought she was the sweetest bundle of femininity he had held in a very long time. He wasn't willing to let her go.
"I'm a book editor," she said gasping air. "I review and recommend... and I write an occasional column for the Post. Sometimes, I edit manuscripts that come to our sister publication in London. They publish full-length novels. That's what I do! Let me up!"
"And that pays the bills?"
"Are you sure?"
Sighing, and exhausted from the tickling, she continued. "And... I have a trust fund that pays a generous monthly stipend." She looked up at him and narrowed her gaze. "And, I *do* make soup!"
He believed her. "Will you make soup for me?" he asked, smiling.
"Maybe," she said, suddenly lost in the hunger she saw in his eyes. "Will you make love to me now?"
"Yes," he murmured, one hand cupping her cheek, the other caressing the side of her breast. "But first you pay the piper."
"Pay the piper?" she asked, suddenly concerned payment was going to be taken out on her sore butt.
"For not answering my questions," he said calmly, flipping her over his knee, his palm rubbing her sore cheeks, then smacking her lightly. "For lying again," he remained calm, his swats increasing in intensity, the tempo increasing. "For cursing after I explicitly told you not to curse." She howled as the spanks got harder and tried to squirm away but her 110-lb. body was no match for his 230 pounds of toned muscles.
When he thought she had enough, he rubbed the sting from her cheeks, his tongue licking at the pain and finally turned her over to lick her lips. Kissing her mouth, he pushed his tongue in to meet the barrier of her teeth. "Let me in, Sacha," his voice soft and husky.
She was stunned that he had spanked her again and remained stunned when he starting loving her as if the spanking never took place. She obeyed, parting her teeth just enough for his tongue to slip inside. When it did, his hand tangled in her hair, tugging it gently, exposing her throat. His mouth took control of hers, his tongue advancing, retreating, advancing and devouring. Sacha couldn't breathe; he had swallowed her breath and when he felt her fist push against him, he breathed into her mouth, giving her air.
She couldn't understand why she wasn't protesting his highhanded ways and didn't remember when he parted her thighs and entered her. She had just taken a full breath when she felt the fullness of him inside her. She expected him to be rough with her, his mood like quicksilver, swinging from calm and easy to demanding.
I have totally lost my mind, she thought. He feels good inside me, so good. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him to her. Please stay. I need the feel of you inside me.
"You're so wet, so hot, Kushla," he murmured between strokes. "You feel so damn good."
She tightened her inner muscles around him, pulling him into her as far as he could go. The squeezing sensation shot from his cock to his balls, making him groan with sheer pleasure. She did it again, and he thrust as hard and as deep as he could. When he exploded inside her, he roared, a wild animal roar that sent her over the edge.
Afterward, he held her against his chest, stroking her back, her shoulders, her arms, wherever his hands roamed. Their heads were touching, his mouth close to hers.
"Betsy Ross," he murmured.
"Betsy Ross made the first American flag."
"Betsy Ross, Betty Crocker. I knew it was one of those "Bet" ladies."
Nick chuckled. "You are the most disrespectful woman I have ever known."
"Have you known a lot of women? In the biblical sense?"
His arms were around her and he hugged her tightly, ignoring her question. "Go to sleep, Kushla. We'll talk more later."
"You didn't answer my question, Nick."
"No, I didn't. Now, close your eyes."
"Nick, has anyone ever told you that you're too bossy?"
"No one would dare," he rumbled.
"Nick, look at me," she ordered, sitting up.
He looked, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.
She cupped his chin and went nose to nose with him. "Nick, you are too damn bossy!"
He bellowed with laughter, then sat up, causing her to tumble off his lap. In one of his quick lightning moves, he lifted her above his head as he rose from the bed. He swung her around and around in a dizzying circular motion, making her lightheaded.
"Put me down," she gasped. "I'm going to pass out."
"That's the idea, Kushla." He grinned and swung her around until he was certain she wouldn't be able to stand.
He lowered her to his chest, cradling her head against his shoulder and slipped back into bed, his hand lightly rubbing her sore bottom. He continued to hold her while she regained her breath and equilibrium.
"I'm hungry," she said when she could speak.
"We'll eat later," he told her, rubbing his face against hers, his hands beginning to roam over her once again.
"Have to eat now," she complained.
"No, you don't," he murmured, lowering his mouth to her breasts.
"Yes, I do," she insisted. "I'm diabetic and I have to eat every few hours."
"If you're lying to me," he warned softly, "I am going to..."
"Spank me again?" She pushed away from him, jumping off the bed. "You are too damn bossy." She glared and pointed a finger at him. "And furthermore, you're... you're too uptight!" She crossed her arms, and stood at the foot of the bed, thinking of more insults.
Uptight? He coughed, trying hard to smother his laughter. His eyes wandered appreciatively over her nudity and his body reacted accordingly. He knew he had to fuck her again, and soon.
She couldn't tell if Nick was listening since his face was clear of emotion. But she knew his cock was listening. It was perking up and looking in her direction.
"You... your kissing's great, your loving's great, but you! You're too uptight and too damn bossy!" Her hands went to her hips. "And I'll say fuck if I want to!" With that missive delivered, she turned on her heel and raced out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She retrieved her coat, scurried into it, and was out the door before Nick was halfway down the stairs.
He yelled at her to wait but Sacha ignored him. He couldn't run out the door naked. By the time he had his pants on, she was locked in her own condo.
When I get my hands on you... he promised.