Flesh: Alpha Males and Taboo Tales (19 page)

He used his tongue to lick slowly up her folds, then with his fingers he pressed her open and darted his tongue into her hole, making her twist with the strange feeling of it. He licked his way up and started to flick across her sensitive spot.

"What is that? What is that part of me called?" she breathed as she felt her pussy throb.

"That tiny thing has a long Greek name. That's a clitoris," Kit said, licking it between each word and making her squirm and giggle. "Clit."

Then he pressed his lips hard against her and sucked, pulling her tiny nub into his warm, wet mouth, and she grabbed his shoulders in ecstasy. "Oh! Oh, Kit!"

He pushed his thumbs into her gaping wet pussy and lapped at her clitoris, and she wriggled as she felt pleasure and need build up in her. She let go of his shoulders with one hand, and grabbed her exposed nipple, needing to pull and tweak it, needing to feel all the erotic parts of her connected and touched.

He peeked upwards. "Are you touching yourself?" he asked.

"Yes…oh god, Kit, don't stop to talk!"

He laughed, hot breath tickling her pussy, and returned to the task with gusto, sucking harder and harder on her pulsing, sensitive clit. He pushed his thumbs into her slit as far as they would go, then to her delight started to pull them apart, pulling her hole open, making her feel strange and wide and somehow filled.

She twisted her nipple and felt a charge of lightning shoot through her body. "Oh Kit! Oh Kit!" He shifted, and removed his thumbs, to change position. He kept sucking and licking her swollen clit and this time thrust what felt like his whole hand into her soaking cunt, pushing his fingers deep inside and wriggling them.

And that was all she needed to unleash her own climax. His hand and his fingers and his lips and his mouth brought the points of lightning tearing through her body and she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed with the painful delight of her orgasm.

"That's it! Come, come, ride it!" Kit urged, plunging and working his hand in her pussy as she ground down on him in desperate desire.

"Kit!" she screamed and then, "Fuck!" And she came hard around his hand, sobbing and shouting and gasping for breath.

He let her thrash around. As she calmed, he withdrew his hand, and moved up to sit next to her on the seat, drawing him to his body in a strong, gentle embrace.

Eliza caught her breath. Relaxing, she tugged her skirts back down over her legs, and looked up at Kit with languid eyes. "It's my turn to thank you," she said.

He laughed and stroked her cheek with his fingers. "You certainly know how to enjoy yourself. Do you know, there are women who never get to feel that climax?"

Eliza was horrified. "No! Surely… when married… their husband would…"

"Not all are as skilled as I am," he said smugly. "And it helps to have a willing partner. There are those who say a baby is conceived easier if the woman climaxes. Perhaps. Others say it is a sin."

"Humph. I thought about that. Why would we be given the capacity for such pleasure, if not to use it?"

"My thoughts exactly." Kit leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle. "And now, I really must be off. I do apologise…"

"No, no, I understand.
Needs must and all that."

"Well yes. And the angry mob bearing pitchforks that even now must be wending their way here."

"That too."

Kit jumped down out of the coach, and turned to look back in through the doorway. She gazed at him with a mix of sadness and the joyful memories of shared pleasure.

"I am sorry," she said. "I don't know what to say. I know what I mustn't say, of course. But I do want you to know that – without obligation – you mean a lot to me. You meant a lot to me. I… am grateful, and that sounds stuffier than I mean it to."

"Yes." Kit reached in and took her hands in his. "I think I know what you're trying to say. And, I should say it back to you. You know me.
A highwayman, a fly by night. A taker of jewels and of women. But… you have something special, Eliza. You once asked to come with me. I said no. But…"

"Yes?"

"Would you come with me now, and live a life on the road, in taverns and stables, running wild and free?"

She blinked in surprise. "Are you jesting?"

He glanced over his shoulders, listening for approaching hoofbeats. He turned back to her as serious as she'd ever seen him. "I do not jest, no. Would you join me?"

Eliza bit her lip. "Kit. I'm sorry." She withdrew her hands. "No."

"No, of course not. Beautiful and sensible too." He reached back in for her hand, and kissed it, and stepped backwards into the night. "Good night, and have a safe journey. I will watch and follow and ensure that you do, Eliza."

"Kit…" she said.
And then, to herself, in a quiet voice. "Oh, Kit."

The darkness swallowed him. She heard the creak of leather and his horse snorting, and then there were
hoofbeats, and he was gone.

And she sat waiting for the coachman to return, and rearranged her skirts and her hair, and let herself relax. She drew up her cloak and some blankets around her, checked the lantern was safe, and drifted into a happy doze, sated and heavy with the memories of pleasure still twitching in her pussy.

And the dreams and memories became speculations of what she was to find in London, at the hedonistic court of King Charles II, with balls and masques and gentlemen stretched as far as the eye could see.

She was going to use her experience wisely, and she smiled.

# # #

About the author:

I’m a British author with a love of history, discipline and sexy stories. I am keen to show independent, feisty heroines who only choose to submit to the very best of men; I am a sucker for an old-fashioned hero!

Amazon author page: 
Amazon.com: Gia Vanna: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Other books in the Highwayman series:

The Highwayman and the Judge's Wife.

Kit robs the wrong coach. The Hanging Judge is in town, and his beautiful wife Catherine needs a bold man to save her from her past - is Kit just a pawn in her game, or can she admit the truth to herself, and to Kit, in time to save their affair?

Amazon.com:
The Highwayman And The Judge's Wife eBook: Gia Vanna: Kindle Store

The Highwayman and the Lady.

Lady Ursula suffers at the hands of her brutish husband, Lord
Armitage. Kit Fletcher, the notorious highwayman, may be a criminal but at least he's an honest one, and he decides to rescue Ursula. She's so used to denying her own needs that she fights back - can Kit persuade her that she's not only desirable, but worth desiring?

Amazon.com:
The Highwayman And The Lady eBook: Gia Vanna: Kindle Store

***

Pulled Over

By Audrey Grace

Leslie
Waterstone heard the familiar double chirp long before she caught the blue lights flashing out in front of her. The police car had closed on her fast, and now the road before her was bathed in the deep red and blue glow of authority.

“Damn it,” she said to herself, slowing down and pulling over. She couldn’t possibly afford another ticket. She’d already had too many demerits this month. She’d lose her license for sure after this ticket.
“Damn it, damn it, fuck!” She said savagely as she slowed the car to a stop. Her silver M3 braked gracefully and the police car perhaps edged a little closer than protocol.

She fumbled through her purse for her mints and shoved four into her mouth simultaneously, crunching them viciously between her teeth. She dearly hoped he wouldn’t
breathalyze her. The girls would never believe this! And she’d boasted that she wouldn’t be pulled over, that it would be too early for that! Not even midnight and this fucking cop was already on the prowl.

Leslie glanced at herself quickly in the rear view mirror, wiping away some smudged mascara and using a small film to soak up the oil on her forehead and nose. Clubs always made you oily. It was a dead giveaway.

A wicked thought entered her head. She looked up and down herself. A tiny black dress that barely covered her nipples-to-crotch, high heels, makeup, the works. No, she thought, laughing a little, watching as the policeman slowly exited his car. That would be stupid! That never works, right?

It was worth a shot. It was better than losing her license. She smoothed down her dress and, laughing to herself as she did it, caught in the throes of tipsiness,
quickly tweaked her nipples so that they poked through the thin fabric of her dress. She had to work particularly hard to erase the playful grin from her face. Take this seriously, she thought. This could actually work!

Looking in the mirror, she saw the policeman swaggering toward her. He was wearing his sunglasses, which Leslie raised an eyebrow at. Christ, she thought, a policeman who’s watched too many movies. It’s in the middle of the fucking night!

He reached the driver’s side of her car, and gestured for her to roll down her window with slow, deliberate movements of his finger. She couldn’t help notice that his fingers were long and thick, and his hand looked powerful. She saw a tattoo peeking out from his wrist. Great! She rolled her eyes. I get the bad cop! She knew she was stereotyping, but a hard fucker was less likely to let her go with just a slap on her wrist!

She pushed her chest out as the electronic whir of the window receding into the door filled the silent air between them. They were the only ones on this road, despite the early hour. She wondered, briefly, if she’d be made to perform for the policeman. There was certainly enough privacy.

“Is something wrong, officer?” She said smoothly, making sure to bite her lip a little afterward.

“Do you know how fast you were driving, ma’am?” He asked Leslie flatly. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could see him glance up and down her body, probably profiling her or something like that.
Slutty dress? Check. High heels? Check. Makeup? Check. This bitch has been clubbing! Leslie had to fight not to giggle as she thought it.

“Um,” she said, “below the speed limit?”

“Unfortunately for you, no. You were doing eighty. Limit’s sixty five. Mind telling me what the rush was?”

“I was going that fast?” She gasped, and widened her eyes. “I really had no idea. I’m sorry, Officer, I was just going home.
Got an early start tomorrow.”

“Is that right?” He asked, nonplussed.
“License and registration, please.”

“Of course, Officer…?” Leslie pouted a little at the policeman, and lowered her shoulders as she opened her purse, hoping he’d glance down her top, hoping that he would just let a pretty thing go on a Tuesday night.

“Marshall.”

Leslie snorted. She couldn’t help herself. “I’m sorry, Officer,” she said, quickly regaining her composure. “I just saw a picture of my friends in my wallet. You know, horsing around in those little Japanese-style photo-booths that put stars and sprinkles around you and stuff. Anyway, here you go,” she said handing her license to the policeman’s outstretched hand. His mouth had been drawn into a severe line. Fuck, she thought, keep it together. It’s not even that funny. Officer Marshall! She suppressed a grin again, knowing that her tipsiness had to be showing.

The policemen stepped away from her car, speaking into his shoulder-mounted radio. He was running her license. Fuck, she thought, knowing that he would see her demerit record for the month. Fuck!

“I’m going to have to write you a ticket, ma’am,” he said, approaching her again. “Also, it appears you’ve had an interesting month.”

“Please, Officer,” she said, “I’m just a girl trying to get home. I really can’t have another ticket for this month.”

“Actually,” he said, “you can’t get another ticket for the next six.”

“Exactly, Officer. I need the car to drive to work.” She fluttered her eyes at him a little, and pouted. “Won’t you let a girl like off the hook?” She leaned forward, bringing her shoulders together, exposing her cleavage.

Officer Marshall looked at her for a moment before his mouth became a severe line. “Just what are you asking me, Miss
Waterstone? That because you happen to be an attractive female I should let you go?”

Leslie swooned secretly at the praise, and fidgeted a little beneath the hard stare of the policeman. “Um,” she said, “something like that? Perhaps I can do something for you?” The moment she had said it, she regretted it. She didn’t know why it had come out of her mouth like that. She really hoped he wouldn’t catch her out on attempted bribery or something ridiculous like that. Also, the policeman wasn’t bad looking, and it was better than losing her license for a year. She decided to go for it. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you, Officer?”

“Ma’am, in my line of work, we call that attempted bribery.” Fuck, Leslie thought. “Will you please step out of the car?”

“What, no, that wasn’t it at all,
Officer, I think there’s been a misunderstanding?” Leslie was flustered, instantly angry at herself for being so stupid. Why did she do that? That was something reserved for movies, not for fucking real life!

“Ma’am, I won’t ask you again. Please step out of the car.”

“Fuck,” Leslie muttered, opening the door and climbing out. She wobbled a bit in her heels, and had to steady herself.

“Ms.
Waterstone,” the policeman said, drawing near. “Have you been drinking?”

“Only one with the girls.
You know, after work.” It was a lie and she desperately hoped he would buy it.

“One drink?” he asked, looking her up and down. “Dressed like that? You went to work in those clothes?”

“If it’s any of your business,” she said indignantly, “I changed at the office.”

“Ah, for one drink.”

“Yes.”

“Into that,” he said, gesturing up and down her body with his hand.

“Yes.”

“And what time do you finish work, Ms.
Waterstone?”

“I don’t really think you have the right to ask me those—”

“What time,” he said, stepping closer, his voice becoming hard.

“Um, six.”

“So you nursed one drink for nearly six hours, is that right?”

“Um, look, Officer.”

“And you tried to bribe me, correct?”

“Um, no,” she said, knowing she was defeated. Fuck! How could she have been so stupid? “Look, uh, Officer.”

“No,” he said, putting a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. He stepped forward again. She could smell his scent. He smelled fresh. He must have just started his shift, she thought. He leaned forward a little, until his head was nearly touching hers, and smelled her beside her ear.

Leslie’s mind whirled. What the fuck was he doing? Was he taking her up on her offer?

“What are you doing?” she said, before gasping as he suddenly took her ear lobe into his mouth. He suckled on it lightly, flicking his tongue over the soft piece of cartilage, and she shivered beneath the warm and wet touch of his tongue, feeling sparks ignite within her.

God, she thought. That felt surprisingly good!

“What… what are you doing?” she repeated as he continued to knead her ear lobe in between his lips, alternating between sucking on it and nibbling on it.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, drawing back, a sarcastic sneer stretching his lips.

“Um, no, officer,” Leslie returned, feeling a little out of her depth.

“Are you sure? Because just moments ago you were quite ready to whore yourself out to me like a filthy bitch.”

“What?” Leslie said, recoiling at the sudden savagery in his voice.

“And all for one little speeding ticket.
You broke the law. You exceeded the limit. What’s that they say about making beds and then lying in them?”

“Hey, just hold on a minute!” Leslie said, her voice rising, and tremors of anger shaking it. “Who the hell do you think you—
”

“No, you hold on a minute,” he said, placing his hand roughly around her shoulder and bringing her head close to his. He whispered now, his voice hoarse and intense. “You don’t want this ticket, do you?”

“N-no, officer.”

“And you were hoping that by showing off those perky breasts of yours that I’d let you off the hook.”

“N-no,” she lied.

“I think you mean yes,” Officer Marshall said, grinning wickedly at her. “What, you think this is the first time I’ve ever been propositioned? Don’t be naive!” He had spat the words at her with contempt, and Leslie felt a pang in her sex at the nastiness with which the policeman was treating her. Was this turning her on?

“Well, now it’s time to follow through. Please walk around to the other side of your car.”

“Why?” she challenged meekly.

“Because right now we’re on the driver’s side. It’s dangerous, honey. I won’t take the risk.”

“What? What risk?”

“Of getting hit by an idiot driver. Or a drunk one, like yourself. Now get around to the other side, or I’ll have to make you.” He inched closer to her, physically intimidating. She folded, and slipped out from under his gaze to walk around to the passenger side door.

“Good,” he said softly, almost cooing at her as he followed her around. He took out his baton and grasped it firmly in his hands.

“What are you going to do with that?” Leslie asked hurriedly. She was starting to feel the onset of panic, the tendrils of terror creeping into her consciousness.

“Me? Oh, I’m not going to do anything with Jake, here.”

“Your baton has a name?”

“It’s what you’re going to do to Jake,” the policeman said, smoothly skipping over Leslie’s latest outburst.

“Oh, yeah?” she said, putting her hands on her hips and doing her best not to look scared. But in truth, she knew it showed. What was worse, she thought, was that the idea of doing ‘something’ to Jake was, oddly enough, arousing. Just what did he mean?

“You’re going to suck on Jake for a little bit, and you’re going to do it better than any of the dozens of cocks I know you’ve had before.”

“What?” she exclaimed incredulously.

“Don’t give me that, Miss
Waterstone. Treat me with some respect please.”

“So, what?” she replied shakily. “I just have to suck it?”

“We’ll see,” Officer Marshall said, holding out the baton in front of her. She looked at it for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing. It looked really thick.

“That baton looks really big,” she said, before looking up at the policeman and gulping.

“It’s special issue,” he replied evenly. “Thicker, longer, and heavier. For more… serious violations. Now, get on your knees.”

“Okay, okay. But you promise you’ll let me off?”

“Only if you perform well enough for me on this lovely night, Leslie.” It was the first time he’d addressed her by her name, and he did so with such contempt in his voice that she once again felt a flutter of hunger in her folds. She hated to admit it to herself… but something about this was simply erotic!

“Okay then,” she said, lowering to her knees and staring at the quivering black rod before her. Gingerly, she opened her lips, and wrapped them around the tip of the baton. It was not as cold as she’d expected it to be. Gradually she worked it into her mouth, her eyes fixed on Officer Marshall who looked down at her with a small smile, his arm as steady as a rock.

Leslie closed her eyes, finding it easier to perform this absurd — yet arousing — act on the policeman’s baton. She slowly let it sink into her mouth, feeling it press against the back of her throat. She swallowed the gag reflex with ease, before letting the baton out of her mouth, leaving it glistening in her saliva.

“Pump it, too,” Officer Marshall growled at her, his voice heavy and laced with lust.

“Okay,” she said, taking the baton once more into her mouth and sucking on it, this time bringing up one of her hands to begin working the piece of metal slowly. It had warmed up considerably. Leslie sucked it harder and faster, finding the feel of it, the idea of it, heady. Her mind began to swim as she concentrated on sucking the dead piece of metal in front of her, trying to imagine that it was a big cock. It would be bigger than any cocks she’d ever had, she thought with a smile. This…
special issue
baton was thick, thicker than a cock
could
be, and for a fleeting moment, Leslie wondered what it would feel like stretching her sex.