Written by A.M. Hartnett
Tonight had been on the calendar all week. Drinks with Perry”s buddies from back home. He hadn’t seen them in about three years and I suppose it was a little selfish to choose the night of their reunion to put my plan into action, but as soon as we all took our seats at the pub table, I was rendered invisible to Perry.
Not that I minded on bit. I normally would have been content to sip my beer while he and his boys chattered, but as I peeled the label wrapped around the amber bottle it occurred to me that all the stars had aligned. I could easily slip away and go unnoticed for a little while, and Perry wouldn’t immediately notice.
“I’m just heading to the ladies room,” I said, giving him a nudge. He barely spared me a glance in his acknowledgement, too engrossed in the tale of hooliganism his buddy was recounting.
In the entry to the shadowy alcove that houses the restrooms, I turned to watch him.
God, I couldn’t get enough of looking at him. He’d had a buzzcut recently so gone was the thick and errant brown hair I loved running my fingers through, but he still had that infectious smile and those big brown eyes that had made me stop dead in my tracks the first time I met him — in my grandmother”s kitchen, no less. Literally the boy next door, back home with his folks after university and making a hero out of himself by volunteering to mow Gran”s lawn. It had been so silly, the two of us tongue-tied and stammering at one another while Gran shuffled around us in her pink Crocs, but we managed to make a date for that night. First kiss, first blowjob, and first orgasm all within twelve hours after meeting.
Love at first sight. I never would have thought it.
Which is why I felt a little twinge of guilt as I scanned the bar. This was going to sting him.
I honed in on a lone drinker seated at the end of the bar. He was big and husky, half of his round face sunburned while the other half was obscured by a dark bristle of a beard. His gaze was fixed on the hockey game playing out on the flat screen over his head.
He was my type. Well, before Perry. I’d liked a bigger man who could pin me down and push me around. Not that I had much to complain about with Perry, but I missed the power play I’d slipped so easily into. That”s what tonight was about.
Not that I planned to just spring it on Perry. We’d danced around the subject of a bit of heavy-handedness: a firm slap on the arse while I rode him, or maybe a bit of hair-pulling while he”s on top and right on the cusp of coming, but the suggestion of more had always been smoke hovering over our bed.
He wanted it and I wanted it, but how to get to it we hadn’t quite worked out.
I crossed the bar and slipped onto the stool next to the man, closer than I should. My bare arm brushed against his, and when he turned his attention away from the television I gave him my naughtiest smile.
It had been almost a year since I’d done any flirting, and I was surprised by how easy it still was, even with my attention as much on Perry as it was on the man at my side. It took about ten minutes before Perry noticed my absence, and I had to hide a smile when it happened. He glanced to his right where I had been sitting, then swivelled this head around until he spotted me.
Up until that point, Perry had been adorably oblivious to what I was up to, and as his expression went from cheerful to puzzled before settling into irritation, I experienced a hot kick that went through my entire body.
As the minutes ticked by, as the Leafs scored over the Redwings, I kept Perry in my peripheral and soon enough I started to sweat. He was taking too long. Soon enough, this guy was going to ask for my number or to buy me a drink, and already I was feeling like a tool for leading him on.
Perry finally appeared at my side. I pretended I didn’t notice him, not until he gave me a nudge with his elbow.
With a flip of my hair, I turned to him with brows raised. “Yeah?”
He hesitated as he tried to read me. It was usually so easy for him. I never held back what I was feeling, my sincerity written all over my face simply because his disarmed me. Not this time. I tightened the strings around my indignant girlfriend mask.
“What’s up?” he asked at last.
“Not much. Just chatting with — I’m so sorry, what was your name?”
“Will,” the man replied, his expression uneasy now.
“Will.” I smiled at him, a little longer than necessary, and added a bit of irritation when I looked back to Perry. “What’s up with you?”
He shrugged. “It’s just you’ve been gone for a while.”
We stared at one another, the challenge building between us. It made me a little breathless with excitement, and I needed a moment to collect myself before I leaned in and lowered my voice. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
There was enough venom in my reply that I’d surprised him. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
I wanted to hold his gaze, to keep that contest between us going until it became a confrontation, but the more he hit me with that heart-stopping gaze, the less likely I was to keep this up. Back to my partner in flirting, giving him an apologetic shrug of my brows, and gestured for the bartender”s attention.
Perry placed his hand on my hip. “Can we go outside and talk?”
“No, I’m good thanks.”
I had no illusions that the squeeze he gave me was an assertion of the dominance I was trying to coax out of him. It was a plea for me to knock off whatever I was doing. He did this when we”d had a tiff, and it usually worked. It almost worked now, and I knew if I looked back at him I’d give up the charade.
I caught his sharp intake of breath as he leaned close to my ear, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up as he exhaled, warm and moist, against my neck. “Let’s go outside.”
I turned to my boyfriend and was struck dumb by his expression. It was subtle, but it was there.
My cheeks went hot and my mouth went dry. I’d succeeded in pissing him off, even if he did hide it well.
The man at my side was immediately forgotten as I stared back at Perry. I gathered my wits and raised my chin. “Follow me.”
Halfway across the bar, I swerved away from the door and towards the ladies room. Perry followed me, confusion muddling with his annoyance, and as soon as we were in the ladies room he whirled on me and planted his hands on his hips.
Oh, something about the way his palm rested against his belt. Not that I was ready for the belt — it was his hand that I craved — but the wicked thrill the sight evoked settled with a throb between my legs.
“So, obviously you’re pissed.”
I shook my head and wondered if he could tell I squeezed my thighs together beneath my paisley skirt. “Nope, I don’t get pissed. You know that.”
He gestured to the door. “Then what was that out there?”
“I was just making conversation. I didn’t think you”d mind, considering you were ignoring me.”
Perry’s brows went up. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? You made a huge thing about how you wanted me to come out with you and your friends, and now that I’m here I’m wondering why you bothered to ask me to begin with.”
His annoyance chucked from the back of his throat and his brows arched higher. “Jesus Christ.”
I leaned against the sink and grasped the edge. I had to be careful. Yes, Perry had his way of diffusing potential fights with a tender touch or a quiet word, but he also had his limits. When backed into a corner on matters when he knew damn well he had done nothing wrong, he”d storm off.
“It’s fine,” I said with a little snipe to my tone. “I mean, it’s not like you see them every day. It’s just that I don”t think I should be forced to sit quietly—”
“No one is asking you to sit quietly,” he returned with the same bite I had given him. “I do, however, expect you to be nice to my friends.”
He pushed his hand along the minimum of hair he had, as though he had forgotten there was none there to twist in frustration. I knew the feeling. Whenever his head was buried between my thighs as he licked my clit, I made the same mistake.
Another potent rush went through me. I bit down on my lip and fought against the urge to shiver while my nipples turned to stone against the front of my blouse.
My grip on the porcelain tightened. This was the moment of truth, and I was about to be set on fire or doused with a bucket of cold water.
“There’s no point in me staying if we’re just going to be pissed off,” I murmured, then took a deep breath as he regarded me. “Maybe I should go home … unless you think I should stay. I mean, if you expect me to act a certain way and I don”t want to, I can’t think of a way you could make me.”
I wanted to look away. I wanted to lower my lashes like I did in my the scenario that played in my head, where Perry had already backed me as far as he could against the sink and whispered hotly in my ear what he was going to do to me, but I couldn’t yet. I needed him to see what I wanted beaming back at him with as impertinent look as I could muster.
His bewilderment stuck to his face like mud, and then the rain began to fall and wash it away, leaving clear realization. He took a step back and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at me, but not really. He was doing what I had been doing all along; he was playing a movie of what could be, what would be, in his head.
“So that’s what this is about?” he asked quietly, and gave me one long look that left me weak. “You pick tonight to do this? You couldn’t wait until we got home to pick a fight?”
“A door opened, and I went right through it.” I tried to keep down my smile, but lost the fight with my giggle. “We could make an excuse—”
“No, we can”t. You know I’ve been planning this for a month, and you want me to just ditch them and go home to give you a spanking?”
He dropped his arms to his sides and my hopes fell as he strode to the door.
But I hadn’t lost him. He simply jerked on the locked knob, then turned to look at me.
“I’ll have my night out, thank you, and you’ll just have to sit through it,” he told me, then leaned against the door, “and you’ll like it. Turn around and pull your panties down.”
I have to admit that at that moment, I never actually thought this would happen. I thought he would go red and shuffle his feet, rub the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous and mutter something about how he didn’t think we were being serious.
But that look on his face was serious. So was the colour blooming on his cheeks, and the quickening of his chest”s rise and fall.
Around I went and whimpered a little. I wanted to see his face when I did as he asked. All I got as I reached under my skirt and hooked my panties was a shimmer of movement at the corner of my eye. By the time my panties were around my ankles and I righted myself, Perry stood a few feet behind me. I met his gaze in the mirror and held my breath as I waited for his instructions.
He cleared his throat and pursed his lips, and I had to mirror his expression in order to banish my smile. He was looking for something, for someone: that someone. That part of himself that flashed in his eyes when his hand connected with the meat of my ass as he picked up the pace of his thrusts from behind.
A little worried, I decided to give the wicked bastard a little push. I yanked up my skirt and twisted my head around.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked quietly, and added a little pout to my lips.
Like a film had been peeled from his eyes, Perry”s gaze went a little hard and his nostrils flared.
“What do you think? I’m waiting for you to bend over.”
He took a step forward, and his hand returned to his belt. This motion was deliberate, and I couldn’t hold back my smile this time. My boyfriend, the nice guy, the boy next door, was mindfucking me.
“Caitlyn,” he said in a breath, his tone skipping across my shoulders in a shiver. “Don’t make me do it for you.”
A small part of me wanted to make him. Oh God, I wanted to buck the authority he”d found and play the brat, but I’d initiated this and we”d come too far. I had lots of time to push his buttons.
Still holding up my skirt, I went forward, bending over the basin as far as I could and still keep my gaze on him.
Perry closed the space between us. A flash of heat went through me as he butted his crotch against mine, hard against soft.
“I don’t like games,” he said quietly and evenly. “That’s the thing. It was one thing to bail on me and my friends. It was another thing to do it because you feel like playing the little slut.”
I closed my eyes and struggled to take a deep breath. He’d never talked to me like that before, not with those words or with that tone. He’d never called me anything more risqué than a naughty girl, and we”d always laughed about it afterward. I doubted very much that we”d be laughing about this afterward.
“You should apologize to them,” he went on, his voice hitching with uncertainty for just a syllable. “I won’t do that to them, though. It’ll embarrass them more than it’ll embarrass you. So I’m going to let them think you”re on the rag or something and maybe tell them we were in here while you had a little cry.”
And that’s when it happened. He drew back and let the first blow fly.
Christ almighty, he didn’t hold back. I got the full width of his palm and all the thunder it packed. It drove me forward with a gasp. In the next breath, just as the fiery pain was setting in, he delivered another blow.
With the third, my body turned against me. I bucked, and before I had a chance to move back into place, Perry did it for me with a hand on my head and fingers twisting in my hair.
It may have lasted ten seconds, or it may have gone on for a minute or two. I lost all sense of the universe around me as he held tight and spanked me. Hard. Every damn time. I began to moan, but I’ll never remember which smack that brought those cooing sounds out of me. They came one after another, jarring with their impact, and then there was Perry in the mirror behind me with a look that became more furious each time he swung his arm.
The stop came too abruptly. He hauled me up by my hair and spun me around. I expected a kiss and reached for him, but instead he put me down onto my knees between his legs and the basin.
“Take my cock out and suck it,” he said, not looking at me but at his own reflection.
“Is this a part of the apology?” I asked sweetly.
“No. You’ve got me hard and I need you to do something about it — and tuck the hem of your skirt into the waist. I want to see what I did to your ass when I come.”
Getting his dick out of his jeans didn’t go as smoothy as it did in my imagination. It seemed like he had swelled to three times the size I was accustomed. The zipper snagged on the metal teeth as I tried to wrangle it over the hard bulge, though once I did and the jeans split open, the denim slid easily over his ass to bunch in the middle of his hairy thighs.
As I took his cock in hand, a ripple of panic went through me.
“Are you planning to come in my mouth?” I hoped the answer would be no. The insides of my thighs were slick, and the fluttering I’d been experiencing in my clit all night had become a powerful throb. I wanted to be fucked while my ass was still hot from his hand.
Perry tightened his grip once more, and the only answer I got was the tilt of his hips as he pushed into my mouth.
“Judging by your ass, you might have to stand up for the rest of the night,” he told me with a glorious rasp to his voice.
My only response was a gurgle as the pressure on the top of my head increased. He”d told me to suck him, but I barely got a chance to use my mouth on him the way I knew he liked it. He joined his other hand with the first and held me in place while he fucked my mouth.
A knock at the door made me withdraw, but Perry held tight.
“You coming back, man?” It was Perry”s friend, Adam.
“Yeah, in a minute,” Perry called back as he thrust slowly in and out of my mouth. “Caitlyn’s not feeling well. I’m holding her hair.”
“You need anything?”
“No—actually, yeah, order her a ginger ale. We’ll be out soon.”
The exchange brought up the giggles, but only one managed to escape in a gurgle before he corked my mouth again.
My mobility taken from me, I tried rocking on my hips but achieved nothing. Perry was driving, and I could do nothing but let him. I wanted to touch myself, but I wouldn’t do it unless he told me, so I just held onto his thighs and puckered my lips.
Perry rarely made a sound while he was getting off, and now was no exception, but those throaty sounds he made were amplified in the hollow atmosphere of the bathroom. They were all I could hear through the rush of blood in my ears and the pop and sizzle of my brain”s circuitry going haywire.
And the heat. Christ, the heat. It was liquid and I was coated with it.
“I’m not gonna come in your mouth,” he said through his teeth, and a moan broke through on the last syllable. A sharp inhalation suggested that there was more to that statement, but it got away from him as his cock jumped.
Another moan, and he pushed me back so my head pressed against the porcelain. One hand held onto me while he jerked himself with the other, and right then I knew what the other half of that statement was.
I’m not gonna come in your mouth, I’m gonna come on your face.
Was this really my Perry? The one who always looked at me with apology in his eyes if he made too much of a mess of me? Who groaned his embarrassment while I wiped his come from where it had splashed against my cheek?
Yes, it was my Perry. Looking up at him, I had no doubts that this was my Perry. Not another version of him, but a secret part he had been keeping hidden from me.
Fist clenched at the top of my head, he glowered down at me in those last frenzied moments before he came, and I didn’t look away. I showed him with a smile how much I loved this, and licked my lips as hot come still splashed my tongue.
When the last drop spurted into the cleft above my lips, Perry lurched forward and gripped the sink with hands on either side of my head. Like some pet who still craved attention, I rested my cheek against his bare thigh and sighed, happily used.
I wouldn’t call the moments after the hush normal. Perry couldn’t quite leave his gentlemanly side in the dust. He was careful in pulling me off of my stiff knees and gave me that boyish grin as he tugged up his jeans, but as I splashed my face clean he half-turned and ran his hand across my ass.
“I wasn’t kidding about you having to stand for the rest of the night.”
“Good thing for pub tables,” I joked, then jumped as he gave me a final hard slap. I twisted around and met his smile. “You think he bought the thing about holding my hair?”
“Probably not, but I’m still going to use that as an excuse to leave in about fifteen minutes.”
“Excuse me? You mean you just spanked me for nothing?”
He pulled my hair aside and propped his chin on my shoulder. “Not for nothing. You”re still turned on enough to let me do whatever I want with you when we get home.”
“And what might that be?” I whispered, and parted my legs for the hand that wedged between my thighs from behind.
Two fingers slid through my pussylips and gave my clit a delicious pinch. “Didn’t you hear me? Whatever I want.”
“I always look forward to what A.M. Hartnett is going to say next. This is the truth. Whether in an email, a blog post, on Twitter, or in one of her erotic stories, I am always curious to see what Hartnett will come up with. She’s got me on the edge of my seat (in more ways than one)” — Alison Tyler, author Dark Secret Love.
A.M. Hartnett began writing erotica upon receiving what, at the time, she considered very bad advice from a career counselor. Since 2006, her short stories have appeared on the web and in various anthologies, including Kristina Wright’s Best Erotic Romance series and Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Curvy Girls.