Black and Blue (Chubby Chasers, Inc. Series Book 3) Read online

  Giving him the full-price ticket admission, I turn with a wink and a wiggle and show him my ass. I try to twerk, but everything just jiggles.

  I look back at him. He doesn’t mind. In fact, his head’s turned to the side, staring at my ample bottom salaciously.

  “I want that ass all over my cock.” He pumps his hips, twice towards me. I grin and walk out of his sight. “Not so fast, Riley.”

  I use the toe of one boot to kick my dress outta the way. Have to make sure my runway’s clear so I don’t trip in these sky-high heels and break a tit...

  “Very nice, Riley,” I purr, loving the heavy weight of the new whip in my hand. I crack it a few times into the air. The sound makes Riley jump. I love that. I thrash the mattress a few times. Careful not to hit my sweet bear…or Riley.

  This isn’t from Walmart. It’s heavy, smells like oiled leather, and looks like it could do some serious damage. I look over my shoulder at Riley. Looks mighty comfortable, nodding his head along to the music.

  If I’d have known we were whipping asses today, I might have watched a video or two about Dom’s for Dummies on YouTube.

  I sneak up, right behind him, and crack the whip. It sounds sinful, decadent, debauchery at its finest as it snaps through the air.

  I turn to Riley. He looks like I hit a nerve.

  Riley, jumpy? Nervous? Then, nervous chatter falls from his lips. “Are you a dominatrix? Do you get off on this?”

  He swallows down a dry throat. “Because I do. I’ve never tried it with anyone, but if you’re game…so am I.”

  I raise my eyebrows and walk in front of him, shocked at his admission, and realize he wasn’t bopping his head to the music. He’s really nervous.

  “You? The bad bastard biker, king of the road, has never whipped anyone?” That’s shocking. The first time I saw him in the diner, I pictured him with a whole closet full of sex toys scattered at the knees of sex slaves. Hmm, first impressions and all.

  He nods but doesn’t look up. “Me. the badass biker. Am waiting for my beautiful domineering girlfriend to make me heel.” He closes his eyes and his head bows.

  My panties start smoking when he says, “This servant boy is ready, Your Highness.”

  His soft-spoken words send a jolt right to my core. Not mistress or queen, but Your Highness. He knows the way to a girl’s G-spot. I can’t keep my eyes off of his face, it’s so peaceful. No nerves now. He’s dialed in.

  But I need to know. “Riley, are you scared of me or what I’d think about all this?”

  He doesn’t answer. Hmm. Maybe he needs permission. So I add, “Speak, boy.”

  He murmurs, “I don’t want you to think I’m a freak.”

  Shame keeps him from looking me in the eye. I walk forward and raise his chin gently til we’re eye to eye as I sing the chorus. “I wanna fuck you like an animal.”

  Relief washes his features clean. What’s left? A dirty boy grin. His eyes smolder as he nods, egging me on.

  I knead the braided handle, finding the comfortable spot. My loins flare with heat; it feels so right in my hand. Excitement pulses through my veins. I’m really going to do this.

  Just don’t hurt him!

  Right, I’ve got to be careful.

  I grab my orange slice scarf, abandoned on the bed. A gift from Blue. I hope she’s having as much fun on her honeymoon as I am about to have. As long as Javi doesn’t go dark, her devirginizing should be fabulous.

  The soft touch of the handle on his shoulders causes shudders to run down his torso.

  “As your highness, I christen thee ‘Cub.’ Pick up your head, beautiful cub.” The breeze carries all the woodsy smells in through the open doors. “Must smell like freedom to my ensnared cub.” His head snaps up, like I yelled the words, when in actuality it was nothing more than a whisper.

  His eyes ride the curves of my body, decelerating at my indecently covered breasts, before speeding to the top to stare into my eyes. “Enjoying the show?” I smirk, but his eyes are dark. This is no laughing matter.

  I strut, that’s what this song does to me, narrowly avoiding him at the last second.

  His face turns to the air I’ve just passed through, taking long sips of it, as if my smell has a taste. “I can smell your flower. It’s almost ready to be plucked.”

  My hot pussy clenches at his naughty words. I scold him for his forward ways.

  “Decent people know it is not polite to mention the smell of another’s soaked private area. Lucky we are not decent people.”

  When I can move without the fear of dripping on the floor, my scarf goes around his head. “No more free shows.” I kiss his grizzled cheek, loving the abrasion of his five o’clock stubble against my soft lips.

  Needing both hands to tie it in place, I’ve gotta put the whip down. What to do? What to do? I reach down and snug the firm leather piece right up against my yearning wet spot, for safekeeping.

  Immediately, a surge of power rushes through me as I feel the weight of the phallic piece between my thighs. I sneak a peek down at the tool and jerk my hips, like he did.

  I feel…strong like bull.

  The movement causes the dangling leather strands to whisper over his heated flesh. A moan tickles my lips as the handle bumps my erect clit with every thrust of my hips. It feels so delicious, I do it again. I twirl my hips to and fro, needing the friction in order to glide my handle between each of his shoulder blades. The moans that fall from his lips, of pure, delicious, unedited yearning, pull me back to the moment.

  I’m supposed to be whipping here, not dry humping him.

  Because I can’t help myself—my kitty knows the end is near—I pump two more times and feel wetness coat my inner thighs. “Such a good boy, Riley. Sitting so patiently while I play with my new toy.”

  I yank both ends of the scarf tight, pulling his head back in the process. One arm goes around his neck from behind while the other reaches down to my soft area and grabs the handle. I run the damp leather, wet with Sasha essence, under his nose. “And I’m not talking about the whip.” The scent of me makes his cock spasm.

  I suck on the shell of his earlobe before whispering. “I need a safe word, sugar.” Then I bite the tender flesh of his earlobe.

  He shivers against me and whispers. “Bacon.”

  *********

  Being saucy is sweaty work. The cool breeze that blows through the slider feels heavenly against my overheated skin. The scent of lavender piggybacks the breeze, calming me. This is a scene we’re building. Riley put in the time, now it just needs my energy, some of the ole Sasha flavor to get it just right.

  I stand to my full height, six foot one in these cat heels, whip in hand, and feel like a Highness. One swipe from my hand and off with their heads! The click of my boots on the cold concrete floor is my foreplay. I stop mid-strut. Concrete floor. All Riley’s floors are concrete. Hard on the old knees.

  My heels beat a path to the bed. Removing two of the black satin pillows, I stand in front of my blindfolded man. “Knees off the ground, cub.” That’s the one that stuck. I tried toy and little boy, but they didn’t make my nipples twitch, not like cub does.

  He grabs the chains above his head and pulls his knees up, no problem. I drop both pillows on the concrete floor and push his shoulder down. He kneels on the cushioning and sighs. “Thank you, Sasha.”

  “No problem.”

  I stare at his bared body and wonder whose life this is.

  I’m amazed that one girl can heap so much fun on her plate of life. It makes me giggle, and I stifle it with the handle of the whip. Which only makes me snort. Thank God he’s blindfolded. While he may not be able to see crazy, but me laughing like a loon, he’s sure to hear.

  He smiles. Kind, caring, thoughtful to a fault. Only Riley would think of something like this. Not wanting to have to say it, but by doing this—mimicking a bear in one of my Favor shows—it’s his way of showing me that my past, the Chubby House, and all the many Favors I’ve performed, don
’t mean a damn thing to him.

  He gets me, knows that I am more than a Favor girl. Sasha is fiercer than Favors.

  My shoulders square with dignity. This guy loves me, no matter what. His chin juts up at the sound of my throat clearing.

  “Eyes down, bitch-boy.” God, I love him.

  His head snaps down. “Explain yourself, and it better be damn rooting-tooting fabulous, or I’m outta here no matter how appealing the man on a stick in front of me is. Are you Rogering this Riley?” He nods, but doesn’t speak. I overdid it, went into full bitch mode and lost my audience.

  I tap the handle against my palm and think. I want to set the right tone here. This isn’t going to be an all-out snuff film. No, I like a little levity, a few smiles with my sex. And then I have it. The way to my man’s heart.

  “Is there something I can do for you, sugar, or did you just get the urge to show off?” He smirks at the words. The first I ever said to him back in that diner with Blue.

  He turns. Recognition flares in his eyes, and he drops a wink my way. “Oh, I can think of a few things you can do for me.”

  I bat my lashes and run my nails through his hair. Fighter hair, short on the sides and floppy on top. “Just a few?”

  He nods and fights everything in his being to look up at me with puppy dog eyes. This bulk of a man, clad in tight leather and tattoos, submitting at my feet.

  I’ve got his full attention. “Are you eyeballing me?”

  He pulls his eyes off of my own hard green ones.

  “So you want to be my new bear, Riley? Do you know all that that entails? Not only does he get the stuffing whipped out of him, but he lies nice and still on the bed and lets me rub my kitty all over him.” I push his face against my exposed skin. His whiskers send a thrill down to my groin and I grab him by the back of his head. Using his face as a loofah, I rub him all over my exposed belly.

  I lean down so I’m right in his face before whispering, “You think you can handle that, baby bear?” He nods, lips trembling, before hesitantly puckering up and leaning towards me. I let him wait, hover in the air, lips pursed. Let him sweat.

  He’s too cute. I pull him towards my crotch. Covered in a wispy pair of barely there, Le Voyeur panties. “Kiss this boo-boo.”

  The shivers that race down to my toes at the first touch of his seeking lips on my covered mound stir my blood. Involuntarily, my pelvis spasms. Smacking him in the face. Hard.

  I feel wetness between my legs, and know my arousal is evident. “Can you smell what your sweet kisses do to my kitty, baby bear?” The submissive name rolls off my tongue.

  His kisses become more urgent. I lose count. I fall back to Earth as I explode, waves of pleasure making my legs shake.

  The growl from his lips as I come snaps me back.

  He’s nipping at my panties, grabbing the material and sucking on it. Waves of afterglow roll through me. I can’t take my eyes off his mouth. Each time he grabs fabric, I rock back, which makes him growl and suck more of the fabric in, biting, tearing at my panties. Seeking entrance. I’m a captive audience. When he bares his teeth, nipping just the silky fabric, I jerk my pelvis back, hard.

  The rip of the thong echoes through my wanton pussy.

  He kneels before me with my panties in his mouth, shaking them like a dog. The angry growls go straight to my throbbing clit, making it pulse in time with his sucking noises.

  In a throaty voice, I command, “Do not drop my panties, Riley.”

  He gives an extra shake of the head so I know he’s on board. I circle his bowed body. Each command is a whisper, but effective just the same. I stop and run the whip down his back, slowly. Letting him feel my intentions. I stop just short of his waistband, and then—fuck it. “I want you naked.”

  I drape the whip over his shoulder and shuck his unbuttoned leather pants from his body. My man goes commando. “Nice ass.” The compliment, then the crack!

  As I smack his hard ass with my hand. He moans, and it’s on.

  I give each of his steely cheeks a no-nonsense spank. Open-handed.

  His back ripples with muscle. The skin is flawless, unencumbered by art. “No back piece, Riley?” I ask, stroking the strands of the tough leather across his virgin skin.

  He shakes his head, black hair hanging over his blindfold. “Paint your masterpiece, Highness.”

  It comes out muffled, but it’s consent, I guess.

  I rear back to smack his back, whip held high over my head. Don’t hurt him!

  No, this won’t do. Riley’s not a whipping boy.

  I lower my hand, hesitant now that the actual moment is here. How many times had I fantasized that the overstuffed bears from Costco were real men? Whimpering at my feet, begging me for mercy? Yet, here, laid out like a feast is a real boy, and my whipping hand is faltering.

  How hard should I swing? The anticipation of making him scream jangles my nerves. Focusing my energy, I take a practice swing. I’m on deck, up next for the biggest sex show of my life, and I’m rusty. Out of practice.

  He leans his head back, mouth full of panty. “Sash?” It sounds uncertain.

  “I’m thinking…and hush.”

  After a few experiments with the whip, the one he likes the best? Dragging the fronds across his back. With each pass I flick my wrist harder, watching the fronds slap his back, before fanning out. I hear the smack, see the red mark after each pass. His back tenses, but his mouth says, “Harder please.”

  Lord help me, he gets an eye roll. “I’m not going to flay you, Riley.” I stroke his back with the tips of my kitty claws. Hard enough to leave my mark on him.

  “Sash, don’t say Riley,” he whispers.

  Not knowing the rules, I whisper back, “Oh, okay.”

  Straight lines mar the flesh. He looks yummy. I say, in my new regal tone. “Stand, toy.”

  He unfolds like a piece of paper, standing to his full height. His arms are bent by the sides of his ears, displaying muscles decorated in art. I realize this beast of a man could, with one outward maneuver, break the chains that hold him. But for me, he’s restraining himself. For me, he’s playing at weak.

  Without any warning, I drop to my knees in front of him, using his abandoned pillows.

  “Pretty,” I breath, before I kiss the tip. It’s salty. I lick my lips, enjoying the tendons straining at the base of his neck with the little display of affection.

  I speak right into the microphone in my hand. “You gave my kitty such sweet kisses, now it’s Spike’s turn.”

  He groans around the used panties in his mouth. “You didn’t drop them. Good boy.”

  With a firm stroke down his shaft, I proclaim, “I dub thee ‘Spike,’ lover of beavers and redheads.” I give it a dick shake. This is an introduction, after all.

  “Your wish is my command, Milady,” Riley says through bared teeth. Milady. I love when he gets all medieval and shit.

  I fill my palms with his tight ass, digging my nails into the muscle. The bite of my nails and he thrusts forward. I’ve gotta be quick and swing my head out of the way to avoid a facial on the first pump. The next pump, I use his ass cheeks to guide him into my waiting mouth, warm and wet, opening wide for his reward.

  His dick slides between my lips like the fit was made in heaven. I pull him in deeper, feeling it hit the back of my throat, and moan around him. As I pull back, I suck—a long, slow pull—and am rewarded with more of the salty treat.

  Through a mouthful of my unmentionables, he says, “Sash, I’m gonna come.” He tries to pull out, but I’m not having it. I hold his dick between my lips and say, “It’s Your Highness or Milady to you. And don’t you even think of fucking coming yet!”

  But it’s garbled around my own mouthful of cock.

  I lean back on my heels and watch it shiver slightly. The night air hitting the saliva must feel like torture. So I do it again. Taking him deep, once, twice, and lean back to watch his face.

  He’s in pure agony, mouth set in a grimace of concent
ration. His hands are balled into fists above his head.

  I say in my best librarian accent. “Don’t you dare come, Spike. All good boys must wait their turn.”

  I stand, using Riley’s taut form as a wall to lean on. Even with the heels, I have to stand on my tiptoes, and just barely manage a kiss on the tip of his nose.

  My panties are still bunched in his mouth. “Fucking hot.”

  I’m so turned on by his display of submission, the taste of him on my tongue, the open windows putting our sex show on display. Even though it’s a private backyard, it feels naughty.

  I head out, clicking my boots with purpose so he knows I’m leaving him to hang.

  “Woo.” Intensity at its finest. He’s getting a reward all right, but this will be no simple blow-job. It’s gonna be a fabulous Sasha-job. I have a different sort of torture in mind for Spike.

  The tinkling of the ice in the teacup announces my arrival. I set the tray I’m carrying on the floor, right at his feet, easy access for moi.

  I rub an ice cube down Riley’s taut stomach before sucking it into my mouth. “Mmm.”

  I give him what he’s been begging for since he took my blindfold off.

  Once, twice, he’s begging for more. Two more and I’ve got the hang of it. My shoulder’s already tired. I give his bottom an open-handed spank—I’m not ready for the hard stuff yet—just to distract him. I sneak around to kneel in front of his fully erect man meat.

  I don’t warn him by using my hands. One crack of the whip in the wrong direction and he jumps. Right into my mouth. I suck deep, hoovering the shit out of him.

  He moans are dirty and low. I go down again, swirling the now-tiny ice cube around his cock. He drops his head back, and I see the muscles flexing in his jaw. Still got those panties though. His ab muscles shudder from the pleasure.

  “You’re such a good boy, Riley bear. You didn’t even drop the panties.” Torture comes in all temperatures. “I’ll leave the whipping till I’ve watched a video or two, methinks.”

  He nods, holding the panties between his teeth like his life depends on it.

  I grab the warm water in the second teacup, swish and swallow to heat my mouth. Now he’s trying to use his eyes to hear, leaning his head towards my activity on the floor.