French Quarter by Lacey Alexander (small books to read .TXT) 📕

“Oooh,” she moaned at the entry. God, he filled her. With his…cock. Yes, his cock. Another word she’d never used before, but Jack was changing her, uncovering something in her she’d never known, some part of her that brought the raw and primal to the forefront, that made such words sound as natural and hot and loving as any others.

His voice was back to breathy when he spoke into her ear. “Tell me how you want it.”

“Hard,” she said. “Fuck me hard.” She was getting good at this. Good at saying exactly what she meant, at talking a little bit dirty.

His thin, masculine chuckle was laced with arrogance. “Think you can take it?”

“Oh yes.”

And mmm, did she ever take it. Jack pounded into her with hot, powerful thrusts, each one making her release a small cry. She felt each brutal stroke all the way to her fingers and toes. She loved the feeling of being fucked with such primal abandon, loved the way each sweet plunge seemed to fill her with him more and more. Her cries involuntarily turned into a word that came on each thrust. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Yes.”

Her legs grew weak with the force of his sex and she gripped the rail even tighter lest she crumble to the balcony floor. Never in her life had a man fucked her with so much power, with such driving force that it seemed to be turning her inside out, numbing her mind to any thought but the pleasure that each deliciously rough stroke delivered. He never stopped, just kept fucking and fucking and fucking her, filling her with his cock again and again, and her pleasure was just beginning to be laced with weariness, a sense that she might soon collapse from the sheer force of his thrusts, when he said, “Baby, I’m comin’. I’m comin’ in you.”

His deep strokes slowed just slightly as he pumped his release into her, and she almost felt the thick pleasure of his orgasm through his long, throaty moans. Finally, they went still together, and he was hugging her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder, whispering, “So good, baby. You’re so fuckin’ good.”

She barely had the strength to reply, but managed to look over her shoulder and cast a small smile before saying, “I’m so fucking tired. You’ve worn me out.”

She relished his satisfied little grin. “Mmm,” he growled, squeezing her body closer to him, “then let’s go to bed.”

* * * * *

The following morning, Liz took a taxi to the home she and Todd shared, but she waited until she thought he’d be gone to work. Her biggest fear was that she’d pull up and find him still there, frantic, with FBI agents and SWAT team members and God knew who else, because she was missing. Jack had offered to go with her, just in case Todd was still there, but she’d refused. She’d gotten herself into this mess by being a complacent do-gooder for the first thirty years of her existence—now she’d get out of it by taking charge of her life.

To her great relief, when the cab pulled up outside the Greek Revival home, the driveway was empty—Todd was gone. Once inside, she got undressed—very aware that she wasn’t wearing any panties—and took a long, luxurious shower. She’d never spent as much time thinking about her body in her whole life as she had the last few days, so while showering, she paid attention to it. She watched the soap sudsing on her breasts, felt her own sensual response as she ran the bar over her smooth stomach, up her arms, down her thighs. She thought about how sticky her inner thighs had gotten at various points last night—both from her juices and Jack’s. Suddenly, every touch to her skin felt brand new.

After calling her boss to claim she’d overslept and would be right in, she chose her work clothes for the day carefully, as she had plans to meet Jack for dinner. So while on the outside she wore a conservative plum-colored suit, underneath she put on a lacy demi-bra of lavender along with a matching thong and garter belt with nude stockings.

As she caught the streetcar on St. Charles and took a seat, she felt positively naughty. The sensations of the tight, binding lace beneath her professional clothes felt like a delicious little secret she kept from the other passengers, a secret she couldn’t wait to reveal to Jack.

Unfortunately, though, she had a long day ahead before seeing him, so she’d just have to think of it as a reward, something to look forward to. Luckily, she liked her job and thus far had been a model employee, so coming in late today wasn’t a big deal. The event she truly dreaded was calling Todd. And she couldn’t put it off. In fact, now that the time had come to do it, she didn’t want to postpone breaking up any longer—she wanted to close that chapter of her life and get back to having fun with Jack. So as soon as she got caught up on her morning tasks, she picked up the phone at her desk and dialed his office.

Damn, voicemail. But then, maybe that was a blessing in disguise. She hadn’t planned to actually break up on the phone anyway, only to arrange a meeting with him. So she said, “Todd, it’s me. I need to see you. Meet me at noon today at the Red Rooster.” It was a small downtown diner where they sometimes grabbed quick meals together.

At twelve o’clock sharp, Liz was seated in a booth with a cup of coffee. Todd walked in looking hurried and a bit frantic, but she supposed she couldn’t blame him, considering that she’d been out all night, had left a cryptic message not bothering to explain why, and that he had no idea she knew about his extra-curricular activities.

He spotted her immediately and took long strides to the