WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Selena Kitt
Lucky 13 © 2009 Sommer Marsden
eXcessica publishing
All rights reserved
THIS PAGE LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK
Lucky 13
By Sommer Marsden
Table of Contents
Pause ………………………………................................................5
Underpass ……………………………….......................................13
Confessions
of a Sexpert #1: Sally Mae
………………………….22
Masturbation
101
.……………………………...............................39
Open
All Night:Claire
……………………………………………….51
Confessions
of a Sexpert #2: Mr. Winkler
………………………..59
Fresh
Meat
………………………………......................................75
Mrs.
Polenesi
……………………………….................................102
She
Looked Good In Ribbons
……………………………………118
Paper
or Plastic?
……………………………...............................129
Kissing
Me Sexy
………………………………............................136
Beautiful
Rita
……………………………….................................144
For
Tonight
………………………………....................................159
Pause
I sniffled and wiped my eyes hurriedly. I hadn’t seen Tom coming as I headed out for a much needed walk. The bright sunlight had blinded me to his presence. Then I turned and he was there.
“Fine. I’m fine,” I lied. “The wind.”
“Right. The wind. How about a nice hot cup of very expensive coffee to curb the wind’s effects? It’s cold as hell.”
He rattled a Zeke’s bag at me. I knew what that meant. Inside would be half a pound of the darkest, most decadent brew Zeke’s Coffee made. I needed decadent because my life seemed to be drowning in darkness.
“Sure. Perfect. Just let me run home and get Jack.” I lived four doors down from Tom.
“Jack is fine. He’s a dog. He’ll be just fine as he is. You are not. No matter what you say. Come on then.” His crisp accent did odd things to me. When he told me secrets, it was like listening to a dirty bedtime story. The way his voice snaked into my ears and heated my blood.
I followed him up the three steps and into his small house.
“You and Gordon?” He studied my face, puffy from crying, and nodded. I never said a word but he had his answer. “Sit.”
Tom busied himself with the coffee. I watched his lean, muscular back. The way his shoulders bunched and rippled when he reached for the filters. The play of the muscles in his lower back when he bent to find his grinder. I watched the easy way he moved and how very right he seemed. A man who was comfortable in his life, his body, his ways. I liked that. It made me feel stable. Gordon was a live wire. Untamed. Unhappy. A ball of kinetic energy that sucked the life from me most of the time.
My throat squeezed. My heart pounded. Tears came back to the surface just as Tom turned.
“Oh, love,” he sighed and started toward me as my head fell forward. I tried to swallow a sob and half managed. What came out was more of a sorrowful moan. Then he was on his knees and his arms were around me. “None of that. He isn’t worth it. Really.”
I knew that. And it wasn’t so much Gordon. It was me. I never seemed to get it right when it came to men. Never. Mostly, it pissed me off. At this moment in time, though, it made me sad. An intense sadness that settled low in my belly.
He smelled like coffee, tobacco and cotton. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. When he looked up and smiled, I didn’t think. I pressed my lips to his and tasted cigarettes and coffee and a sweet undertone that could only be him. Heat warmed me. Internal heat. It started in my throat and coursed through my breast, over my belly and between my legs. I wanted his hands there. Between my legs. His face. His cock.
“Noelle. You need to stop that. Now.” His voice was gruff and despite my best efforts, my gaze was drawn to his lap. To the lovely hard cock that strained against his faded jeans. I reached for it him and he grabbed my wrist. Hard. He squeezed and I winced.
“Why? I’m not that bad,” I said, my voice fluttery from all the crying.
“You’re not even slightly bad. But I wouldn’t want to be that man.”
He was staring at my mouth. At my bottom lip. I bit it. It was dirty fighting. I knew it. But I did it anyway. I would fight dirty if I had to for just one night with a man who wanted me. Wanted to fuck me without consuming me. Or breaking me down. Who was secure enough to simply want meand then take me.
“What man?” I asked and leaned into him. Got as close to him as his strong grip would allow. I blew a light breath over his throat. I noticed a small nick from shaving. I noticed how the stubble had already overtaken his small morning victory. Dark hair sprouted from his tanned skin. I wanted to rub my face against it. Feel it against the fragile skin on the inside of my thighs.
“The one who takes advantage.” His green eyes narrowed. He was serious. Very intent on not hurting me. They grew darker as I moved closer. He was trying very hard to hold himself back. For me. That made me want him all the more.
“Take advantage of me. Please.” I opened my thighs and he slid his big body between my legs. But he didn’t kiss me. He watched me instead.
“It’s wrong. What if you and Gordon work things out? What then?”
I shook my head. “It won’t happen. All we do is fight. I was crying because I had decided it was over. I had officially given up on men.”
“Ah, see. I’m a man,” he said and tried to pull back. I shut my thighs as tight as I could.
“I know. But not the average man. You’re different. I want you.”
“You just think you do,” he said. His gaze was back on my mouth.
“No,” I said honestly. “For awhile now. But I didn’t think…” I leaned in and kissed him again. He pulled back but not before I had felt his lips soften. He wanted to kiss me back.
“What. You didn’t think what?” His voice was husky. His hands on me were harsh. I felt my cunt grow slicker. God, now that I was saying it, it made the want that much worse.
“That you would want me.”
He let out a bark of laughter and tossed his head back. I leaned in and bit him just below the jaw and the laughter turned to a growl. Tom yanked my jacket off. Then my sweater. He tugged at my jeans. His breathing was harsh and I kicked my legs wildly to disengage the denim. Finally, I sat splayed in his wooden kitchen chair with nothing between us other than what he had on.
“I want you. That’s not an issue,” he said. It looked as if he wanted to say more but he didn’t. Instead he took my white cotton tank that I’d had under my sweater in his hands. He moved behind me and gently tied my wrists together, anchoring them to the chair. “Now spread your thighs for me, Noelle. I’ve waited way too long for this.”
In his sunny kitchen that smelled of good strong coffee and aroused woman, he knelt between my legs. He smelled me first. Simply put his head between my thighs and inhaled deeply. A small bit of moisture seeped out of me. I felt it trickle down my skin. I held my breath. I watched. His green eyes found mine and he smiled. Slowly he stuck out his tongue and touched the tip, just the tip, to my throbbing clit.
I jumped as if I’d been electrocuted. I tested my bonds and found them tight.
“Easy. Behave yourself.”
I nodded. I tried to breathe as his tongue blazed a hot trail over my slit and up over my clit. I swallowed a moan. I would not beg. I promised myself that. I wanted Tom, that was true. I had wanted him for a very long time. But this easy, lazy way of his was driving me mad.
“Spread them wider, love. I want to see it all. All of you.”
I spread my legs as wide as I could. My belly fluttering with excitement and impatience. First his eyes examined me. Then his finger. He spread me wide and touched each bit of me. My outer lips, my wet entrance, my tender clit. I tried not to thrash under his touch. When he followed his finger with his tongue, my thighs tried to clamp around his head. Tried to trap him where I wanted him. He took his big strong hands and forced my thighs wide again. I let my head fall back and I gasped for air.
I was right there. A few more flicks of his hot tongue and I could fall over that edge into bliss.
He stopped.
I waited but nothing came. I could feel his warm breath on my wet pussy. His hands still pried me open. His fingers on the soft skin of my inner thigh. He stroked me patiently, keeping me right there. Maintaining the arousal but not finishing me off.
I raised my head. “What? Second thoughts?” I panted.
I thought I might cry.
Tom made a tsking sound. “You should know better. I plan to spend the rest of the day showing you just how very much I want you. How much I have wanted you. For a long, long time.”
“But?” I asked. My body was clenching. Demanding that what was started be finished. He moved his fingers toward me and my pussy clenched with anticipation. He stopped his finger just shy of me. I was left with nothing but the mental image of his fingers probing my cunt.
“This is just a pause. Be patient. It’s almost over.”
I wiggled in the chair. Felt the wood peel away from my ass cheeks. I tugged at the cotton tank that bound my wrists. Any moment I was going to scream.
“A pause? What for?”
He traced my nipple with his finger and I arched up into his hand. Ground my teeth together. I would have clamped my legs together but he had me pinned wide.
“It makes it that much better,” he said. Keeping his eyes on mine, he bent low and blew lightly on my clit. Arched his tongue to taste me and touch me. For one second. Precisely.
He sat back on his heels while my body seemed to hum. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I started throwing off sparks.
“Please,” I panted.
A finger slid into me and my head lolled back again. My cunt clutched around it. My hips shot up to meet him.
“You’re being a fairly good girl,” he said and added a second finger.
“Please. Please, Tom.”
He took his good sweet time. He lowered his handsome head so slowly. He rubbed his stubbled cheek along my skin from the inside of my knee to the crux of my thigh. Then his tongue traced me and I bowed up in the chair. One taut muscle. My nipples peaked and I felt a fresh slide of fluid between my legs.
Slowly he licked me. He sucked my clit into his mouth and worked me with his tongue, with his lips until I was nearly sobbing with the want of it. With the need of him. He pushed his tongue deep into me and fucked me with the rigid tip. Then he sucked me again until I yanked at my bonds fiercely.
Then he stopped.
“Oh my god! No way!” I was crying. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My body one big nerve ending.
“Just a pause.”
“I’ll kill you,” I said. More tears. I should have felt ridiculous. Instead, I felt frantic.
“Shh. Shorter this time. You’ll live.”
“I don’t think so.” And I didn’t. I thought I might actually die from hanging on the edge of orgasm. It felt that way. My body so tight inside that there was nowhere left to go. I could come or go slowly insane. Those were my options.
“Shh. It will be fine. I promise,” Tom said. He lowered his head and kissed my belly. His dark hair the color of Zeke’s coffee on my pale skin. He kissed me right above my blond triangle of pubic hair. Inches from my clit. He kissed me long and slow and soft. Right there.
I cried some more.
“Don’t’ cry.”
“I want it.”
“I know.”
He kissed the very top of my thigh. Scant inches to the left of my sex.
“I need it.”
“I know.”
“Please, baby,” I begged.
“If you insist,” he said and moved quickly. He took me in. One swift motion. He captured my clit between his wet lips and pulled me into the blazing fire of his mouth.
One suck.
I came. I came and I yanked against the cotton tee that held me. I sobbed and I jumped. I thrashed like I was dying. Because I was. He was killing me slowly with his tongue. The most beautiful death I could imagine.
He kept at me gently for a few moments. Kissing a bit. Tasting me more. My lungs refused to work for awhile and I simply watched his dark head in my lap. He laid it there. Just waiting. I think he was listening to the twitches and echoes of orgasm as they worked through my cunt, through my body.
I was loose. I was lazy. I felt like sunshine.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Please. I can smell it. The smell is driving me crazy. The more I smell it. The more I want it.”
He kissed my clit and I jumped a little. He stood, untied my wrists and said, “Sometimes the thing’s we’re forced to wait for are the very best things.”
Then he kissed the back of my neck and I sighed.
Jared was being an ass. “I don’t know what the big deal is,” I sighed. The worst part was every single time we went to one of these parties, he ended up acting like an ass. Yet, I went with him. Every damn time. Stupid on my part.
“The big deal is that you eat that shit up. They drool and slobber all over you and you play along.” He pushed the button to lower the window and flicked his half-smoked cigarette out the window. The car rocketed through the dark night. No street lamps out this far. Just the twin white eyes of the headlights.
“You picked out this outfit,” I yelled back. “And might I add, you go out of your way to make me look like a sex pot. And then you get all pissed off and act like an asshole!”
My temples throbbed from the force of my anger and yelling so loud. What I really wanted to do was punch him.
“You never complain about me buying you outfits,” he ground out between clenched teeth. His normally handsome profile looked nasty and dangerous in the green glow of the dashboard.
“Because I want you to be happy and it’s a nice gesture! If you buy me a dress that’s cut down to my belly button with absolutely no back to speak of, I assume you’re okay with me wearing it. I assume that you will not end up a raving, jealous lunatic by the end of the night!”
“I’m not jealous, Brenda. And for the record, there’s a difference between dressing provocatively and acting like a cat in heat.”
“I didn’t do that.”
He slammed his big hand on the steering wheel and I jumped. “You most certainly did. Frank Monroe put his hand on your back and you were…you were…” he floundered.
“I was what! Exactly what did I do?” I said softly. I could feel my anger swiftly turning to rage. A dark quiet fire inside of me. I wanted to choke my husband so badly my hands itched.
“You arched back against his damn hand! You twittered and cooed like a goddamn teenage girl. You acted like a horny housewife.” He pushed the cigarette lighter and briefly I thought about taking the hot red circle and pressing it to his forehead. Then the cylinder popped out and I let the thought go.
“I am a horny housewife!” I hissed, “However, I think you’re reading too much into that. I think you saw what you wanted to see.” I shifted in my seat and tried to think of what else I could say to diffuse the situation.
“Why on earth would I want to see that?”
I shrugged. “Good question, Jared. Why?”
“I didn’t!” he roared and lit his cigarette. He took an angry puff and exhaled loudly. The car filled with ghostly blue smoke.
“Fine. Then next time you shop for me for one of these faculty events, I’d like you to keep in mind your current mood,” I whispered, trying desperately to keep my voice calm. “Think turtleneck. Think floor length. There you go,” I snipped, too pissed off to do what I had set out to do. “Think haus frau!”
“Goddamnit, Brenda! You are a gorgeous woman. I like you to look gorgeous. I do not like you acting like you’re going to drop to your knees and service every man in the room. I do not like you acting like a whore.”
“Then stop setting me up,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Even in the dark I could see his blue eyes flash at me. Surprise, anger, fear. All of it registered in one solemn stare.
“Stop setting me up so you have an excuse to be angry at me.”
We had just entered and underpass and Jared slammed the breaks so hard I was thrown forward. The seatbelt bit at the exposed skin of my chest and shoulders. My head barely missed hitting the dash.
“What are you doing?”
“What the fuck are you saying to me?” His voice made my skin prickle. Dark and dangerous. The voice of a lunatic.
What was I saying? I wasn’t quite sure. I shrugged again feeling impotent. I didn’t have words to describe my feeling. Even if I had, Jared was too angry to hear them.
“Let’s just go,” I said.
“No. I want you to explain that.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I meant or what I mean. All I know is I went to a party for you. I was dressed by you. Paraded by you. And now I’m being attacked by you. You are acting like a dick,” I blurted.
“Yeah, I’m acting like a dick,” he hissed. “And it looks like I stopped at the right place. They have your name up on the wall.” He smiled at me and my skin went clammy. I didn’t like his smile one bit. I looked in the directing of his pointing finger.
On the concrete wall. Bright blue spray paint. One work illuminated by our headlights like an art display:
KUNT
“They didn’t even spell it right,” I snorted, trying to sound strong and sure when I felt weak and scared.
“Spelling doesn’t matter. It’s the thought that counts. And I think you are being a cunt,” he spat.
I didn’t think. I undid my seatbelt and flung the car door open. I’d fucking walk. I’d walk home in my whorish dress and three inch strappy heels. I’d walk and risk the druggies and the rapists and the robbers. I would not drive home with a mad man who set me up to see me fall.
“Where the fuck are you going?”
“I’m walking.” And I did. I started to walk, my heels clacking unnervingly along the broken pavement.
I heard his car door open and I tried to go faster. My ankles bowing painfully as I tried to quickly pick my way through the rubble and glass.
“Get back here!” Jared shouted and fear shot through me swift and sinister. He was scaring me.
Then his hands were on my wrists, binding them together and I faltered. Wobbling on my heels as I struggled to get free. “Come with me,” he roared in my ear and pulled me along with his strong hands.
I stumbled with him, clutching my purse in one fist. A fist bound behind my back by my loving husband. He dragged me to up the concrete slope and when I lost my footing and nearly fell, he righted me. He marched me to the six foot letters. And forced my head straight to them like a dog that has been bad.
“Look at what you are, Brenda. A cunt. My beautiful wife the cunt.”
A tear leaked out and I said, “Jared.” Just that, trying to make him come back to himself. The kind, sensible, funny man I knew.
He released my hands and snatched my purse. Dropped it amid the plastic bottles, rocks, and discarded bits of clothing. The gem studded clutch sparkled amidst the trash. He forced one hand so it settled on the K. He stretched my other arm out and settled it on the U. He pushed my face against the rough, filthy wall and said in my ear. “Do not fucking move. Don’t move.”
I didn’t move. I stood frozen and stunned, spread eagled against the wall. My heart was beating so hard my chest hurt. I couldn’t breathe. And I was wet. I knew it. I could feel it. It was mortifying and exciting all at once. The pulse that beat briskly in my chest and throat was beating just as hard in my cunt. More tears escaped but a sick excitement swirled in my belly like a storm.
Then he was mumbling nearly to himself. The anger in his voice made me shiver. “I buy you a four hundred dollar dress. Three hundred dollar shoes. The fucking purse alone cost two hundred. I dress you in the best and you act like nothing more than a common street walker. How much for a blow job, Brenda?” he snickered and the wetness between my thighs grew forcefully. A slick stain of shame in my panties.