111 comments/ 306203 views/ 153 favorites Payback in the Bedroom Ch. 01 By: pentopaper "Three blind mice! Three blind mice! See how they run, see how they run!" They had been telling stories and singing nursery rhymes for the last few minutes, and the sick feeling in his stomach was only getting worse with each new song. "They all ran after the farmer's wife! She cut off their tails with a carving knife!" He groaned under his breath. The kids. He had watched her for many weeks now, and she usually dropped them off at their grandparents' house on the outskirts of town every other weekend. When they were gone, she usually spent that time at the apartment alone. They were supposed to be at their grandparents' now, according to his schedule. But evidently something that he wasn't privy to, and rightly so, had changed things. He had no claim to her, and shouldn't be anywhere near her at all. Yet, he was wedged under her bed in the master bedroom, sweating profusely under his ski mask. The apartment air conditioner was working, but nervousness was getting the best of him. He shook his head, frowning; the ski mask and him being "under the bed" was so cliché, he thought. He hated himself for being like a second-rate actor in a cheesy B movie. But it was too late for him to turn it all back now. His plan would have to be a go, even though the situation was far less than ideal. He readied himself for what he was going to make happen. Could he be the person he was about to become? The pity that swelled in his gut for what he was going to put her through almost overcame him. He had to steel himself against those feelings. Think of her husband, he thought, grinding his teeth. This would end up hurting her husband far worse than it would hurt her, he reasoned. She would be an unintended casualty of the situation, almost like collateral damage. That was the way it often was in war. Destroying the enemy wasn't all that difficult sometimes, he had found. He had seen small bits of action up close, but some elements of modern warfare had become so automatic that sometimes pushing a button and watching an explosion on a computer screen was all that a soldier witnessed. Though it looked like a computer game, it certainly was not. It was the ground soldiers like him who stood in a long line, sweeping through and securing the recently bombed-out neighborhood buildings, which saw the direct after-effects of war. And it was the innocents, the ones who got caught standing too close when it all went down, who were the ones who paid the true price. He had found that the enemy was vastly different, now that he was home. He sure as hell felt like he was still fighting a war, though. But this war was different; it was more personal, one that was hidden to outsiders. It raged only inside him. It was something he bore alone. "Did you ever see such a sight in your life, than three blind mice? Three blind mice!" In the nearby bedroom, the mother and her kids dissolved into fits of giggles. "Ok, you two, that's all for tonight." Her voice was happy, joyful. It touched him in a way, but to make this evening successful, he had to hate it. He had to hate her just like he hated him. So he took hold of the pity he felt for her and squashed it down deep into a dark corner of his heart. He focused on changing it, transforming it. He hardened it, polished it, and brought it back up to the surface. It no longer was pity anymore: it was hatred. He narrowed his eyes until they were horizontal slits. Could he really be this person he was about to become? He pondered the question a little longer this time. Yes, he thought. He could be that person now, because at some point he had become that person. He was that person. He was here, and his head was in the game. Pity would no longer be a problem tonight. He heard elaborate goodnight kisses being exchanged, a little girl and a little boy saying their prayers for their mother, and then she closed their bedroom door tight. His heart rate spiked as he heard her footfalls nearing the master bedroom. It was not unlike the anticipation on the battlefield when the enemy advances, hoping your hiding place is undetected. But the bedroom was dark and he was hidden well under the bed, concealed by the long dust ruffle. There was a tiny gap, however, between the dust ruffle and the hardwood floor. As he pressed his cheek to the cool wood, he saw her enter the bedroom. She flicked on the bedroom lights as she came in. She was wearing loose-legged brown slacks, and he immediately noticed her naked feet and red painted toenails. She passed dangerously close to the bed and then quickly turned and entered the bathroom. The shower started, and her clothes came flying off in all directions. Through the tiny slit he was peeping through he could only see her from the knees down, and he caught sight of her smooth, bare calves before she closed the bathroom door. He exhaled then, and it dawned on him then that he had been unconsciously holding his breath. He still felt nervous, but emotions were surfacing that he didn't think he possessed anymore. Her legs. He was astounded that he was still thinking about her legs. They were pretty, looked strong, and he had a vague sense that they would be soft and smooth under his fingers. He snorted and shook those thoughts from his head. "Frigid" and "Bitch" had been her husband's pet names for her. He worked his mouth into a sneer, remembering. But that was all about to change. Whatever of herself she had kept from her husband in the past, he was going to take for himself tonight. And what a rush it would be to use and savor her body, something her husband hadn't been allowed to do then, and probably still couldn't do. He may need your permission, he thought. But I sure do not. He let a few more minutes slip by, hoping she hadn't forgotten something that would necessitate an immediate return to the bedroom. That would surprise him and give her the advantage; something to be avoided. He had nothing to worry about, however. He heard the distinct sound of her stepping under the shower spray, so he deftly slithered out from under the bed. He quickly crossed the room, turning the lights off as he went. He glanced into the hallway; the apartment was quiet. There were no sounds coming from the kids' bedroom. He doubted they were asleep yet, but they weren't creating any havoc, either. He shut and locked the bedroom door and he hid himself close by the bathroom door in shadow. As he waited for her, his nerves betrayed him again. He cursed himself softly. What the hell was he doing? He didn't do things like this. And it didn't help that his whole plan could now be so easily shot to hell because the kids weren't supposed to be here. He'd have to think on his feet, something he certainly had been trained to do, but it wouldn't make things any easier for him, and it left no second chance for a fuck-up. A few minutes later he heard her turn off the shower. She started knocking around in the bathroom, probably brushing her teeth, combing her hair, getting ready for bed. He frowned, every cell in his body now on alert. His body tensed, ready. Finally, it was show time. He was lurking just outside the bathroom door, and when it opened, he could feel the blast of hot, moist, shower air come over him. He was assaulted by the smell of her coconut shampoo and it made his brain fog just for a second. He suddenly remembered he had smelled that same scent on her almost two years ago and, bizarre as it seemed, realized that he had for some reason remembered it. She took a few steps into the bedroom, looked around, and froze. He was sure she couldn't see him where he was hiding. He assumed she had grown cautious because she'd noticed that all the lights were now off and the bedroom door was closed. It was not how she had left things. She had a battered-looking romance novel in one hand that had a scraggly orange piece of yarn dangling from between the pages. The bookmark was probably something that had been made for her by one of her kids. She was dressed in a thin summer-weight flowery robe that ended mid-thigh, and again his eyes lingered on her gorgeous calves and bare feet. "Kids?" she whispered, looking around cautiously. And then, like the soldier he was -- whisper-quiet-like -- he was behind her. One hand quickly slid around her waist and the other one completely covered her mouth. It happened so fast she didn't even have time to scream. Her book made a soft "thunk" as it fell to the floor. "Shhhhh," he whispered in her ear, the only gently-delivered warning he intended to give her. It took a beat for her to realize what was happening, and then she did scream. But his large hand was already tight on her mouth and the sound was greatly muffled. He doubted anyone standing outside the bedroom door could even have heard it. She squirmed and kicked and fought him, and he grunted loudly when she got in a few good blows to his shins. He would probably see bruises there the next day. He was much stronger than her however, and he held her tight to him, letting her burn up some of the adrenaline that was racing through her veins. But he soon grew tired of her struggling. He ended it by tightening his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer to his body, and squeezing her so hard that she was straining to breathe. The fight was over; he had effectively immobilized her. "Stop fighting me," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you," he quickly added, but they both knew he didn't mean it. She squeaked in terror, her adrenaline spiking again, her legs kicking at him even harder than before. He was surprised at her second wind. This time he dragged her the few feet it took to reach the bed, and he fell on it as well as on top of her, his chest pressing into her back. Her breath came out in a loud "oof" as they went down, but he secured his hand over her mouth anyway, just in case she decided to call out. She strained, turning her head sideways to glance back at him; he had her total attention now. "Don't make another sound," he growled as menacingly as he could. He held his muscled body down on top of her. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help but notice the feel of her body underneath him, her soft bottom fitting nicely against his lower belly. Her thighs were so soft and warm against his. She moved beneath him, testing his strength again. She found that she truly was pinned, and she finally gave up. But all that squirming she had done had made him start to harden. She smelled so clean and fragrant from her shower he had to blink to clear his head of her. She was murmuring against his hand, trying to speak. "No screaming," he said. She shook her head quickly. He freed her mouth, but kept his hand close by just in case he needed to silence her again. She whispered, her voice shaking terribly. He could hardly understand what she was saying through all her gasps and hiccups. "My kids -- please don't hurt my kids!" she begged. He went cold inside, his passion completely shriveling. This was the major snafu of the evening. "Of course not. I won't touch your kids," he said quietly. This promise he did mean and did intend to keep. "You can do whatever you want with me -- I'll...I'll do whatever you want. Just...please...they're young...they need their mother," she added, crying openly now. "I need to at least be left...alive...after this," she said, her sobs making her shake underneath him. He swallowed, his body going cold. She sure had gotten to the point. He moved a little to take some of his weight off of her. "Good God, I'm telling you, I won't hurt those little kids," he said. They both froze when there was a soft knock on the door. "Mom?" "Oh, no," she whispered, trembling. "My daughter. I...I have to answer or she'll keep knocking and she'll start crying for me, wondering where I am." The words spilled hysterically from of her mouth, slipping and falling over each other. He nodded with an anger-laced sigh. "Yeah." He pulled her up and sat her on his lap, his arms both wrapping tightly around her waist. Her bottom settled tightly against his cock, and he was slightly surprised when it started to get hard again. If she noticed, she didn't let on. "What is it, Baby?" she called out in as normal voice as she could. His arm flexed at her waist, but he didn't speak. "Can I have a drink of milk?" "She can't reach the milk jug," she whispered back at him. He didn't answer for a few seconds, weighing the few options he felt he had. "Mom?" the little girl asked again. "Shit," he muttered. "P-please," she stammered, "let me get her settled in...then...then you can do whatever you want with me. I just don't want them to know," she added, tearing up again. "They're so little..." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Yeah," he said. He pushed her off his lap and spun her around so he could look into her eyes. "But I want you right back here when you're done. You have two minutes, or I'll come get you," he added. "Oh, God. Okay," she said, already running into the bathroom. "I'm coming, Kacey," she frantically called out to her daughter. He disappeared back into the bedroom shadows. He watched her as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and dabbed a cold wet washcloth to her face. Her eyes were swollen and terribly bloodshot, and her hands were shaking as she worked. Their eyes met briefly as she quickly sidled past him and hurried out through the bedroom door, closing it gently behind her. "Mommy, are you ok?" he heard the little girl ask her. "You look weird." "I'm just fine!" she said, a little too brightly to be believed by anyone but a child. "You know what? I got soap in both my eyes in the shower. I don't have tear-free shampoo like you do..." her voice trailed off as she made her way down the hallway into the kitchen. He cursed himself as loud as he dared. He felt like hell. He was an asshole. A stupid, idiotic prick. He had no intention of hurting her kids, hadn't wanted the kids involved at all. But because of that, she had his ass in a sling right now and probably didn't even know it. If she was smart, she would take the kids and run. Then this would all be over even before it got started. That would definitely be the best thing for her. But, he reasoned with himself...then again...she didn't know whether he had an accomplice hidden somewhere, whether he was carrying a gun, or if he would chase them or even hunt them down if she did escape. She was scared enough she just might come back. He pondered this while he cracked his knuckles. How could he have let things get so out of his control? "Damnit," he whispered. A few minutes passed as the girl drank her milk. The boy heard the commotion and joined them and, of course, needed a drink too. Then he heard the goodnight's being said for a second time, the kids' bedroom door closing, and then she was back in the master suite. He could not deny that he was astounded that she had returned. "You're late," he said sourly, moving out from the shadows. He disguised his surprise at her return well, but he sure still felt it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing her. She looked down at her hands to avoid his eyes. "Sorry," she whispered, nodding. She hated looking at him. The ski mask he wore terrified her. He was a tall man, probably over six feet, she reasoned. He was wearing all black: black turtleneck shirt, black jeans and shoes. Even the ski mask he had on was black. He had a large frame, and he was fit and very strong. She had no hope of getting away. Even though she was nearly paralyzed by her fear, she had something that needed to be said. She gathered all her courage and looked up, forcing herself to meet his gaze without flinching. "I expect you to keep your promise," she said softly. She then waited for his answer as she nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat at her words. God, she was bold. He ruefully admitted to himself that he was impressed. He gave her a curt nod hoping she could see it in the darkened room. She quickly looked away from him and stared down at her toes, her arms wrapped around her chest tightly. "Okay, then," she nodded and whispered. "I'm holding you to your word." He was silent for nearly a full minute. Then he chuckled softly and shook his head. She was making deals with him - a crazy rapist - that she expected him to honor? It was all he could do not to snort out loud. He'd never met anyone like her. "Come here," he said quietly. Her head snapped up, her eyes suspicious. He crooked and wriggled a finger at her, motioning for her to come his way. She sniffed a couple times, her face twisting into a sob that never surfaced, but she did as he asked. She stopped when she was a few steps in front of him. "A little closer," he said. She took those steps, and she was close enough now that he could smell her again, could reach out and touch her if he wanted to. He took a few seconds to enjoy her closeness. He could almost feel the fear radiating from her body. He suddenly stood up, and she flinched backwards, away from him. His body was inches from hers; his eyes boring down at her from the mask. She was sure he could hear her own heartbeat as it screamed in her chest. He hovered in front of her, and then he slowly began walking around her like a predator, eyeing her up and down. "Wow," he said. "I had no idea...that you looked so beautiful right before you went to bed." There was odd honestly in his tone, and her desire to flee grew even greater. He let his eyes travel all over her. Her wet curly blonde hair hung down to the middle of her back. Her ass curved out nicely. Her bone structure was rather delicate, her waist probably a little bigger than it had been in high school, but she was still very pretty. Her eyes were green and conveyed her terror well. Her full lips and her dimpled chin trembled as he looked at her. She kept her arms tightly wrapped around herself. After slowly circling her, he sat back down on the bed, but he was still staring at her. She took an unconscious half-step backwards as he continued to ogle. Beautiful tanned legs, probably freshly shaved. Those red toenails, and breasts that looked so soft that it took immense strength for him to resist touching one, or simply claiming a nipple with his mouth even while it was still hidden under her robe's thin material. "You're all tied up like a little present," he murmured, reaching out and pulling on the end of one of the ties that held her robe together. She instinctively slapped at his hands. She was so spunky, he thought, amused. But, unfortunately, he had to make her understand, though he didn't really enjoy making her fear him, that where she might have the choice of saying "no" to her husband, she was going to participate tonight. His hands shot out, grabbing her wrists. He spun them both around and violently pushed her onto her back on the bed. It was so unexpected she didn't even think to scamper away. He moved then like a big cat, slowly crawling on top of her, watching the fear that grew in her ever widening gaze. When he was eye level with her, he took hold of her wrists again and let his body's weight sink down on top of her. She felt his chest press into hers, flattening her breasts against her ribs. She was terrified, but he must have been wearing cologne because she smelled its dark, muted scent the closer he got to her. She swallowed loudly, her tongue making a clicking sound against the roof of her dry mouth. She felt every breath he took as his chest rose and fell while pressed tightly against hers. His body heat warmed her and caused a flush to form on her skin. "You do not want to fight me," he growled softly. Payback in the Bedroom Ch. 01 "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," she whispered, stammering. "It was a reflex...an... accident. Please...I didn't mean to," she gasped, shaking her head. He still held her by her arms and his fingers were digging into her wrists. "Please, you're hurting me," she whined, trying to twist free of his grip. "Promise me you won't fight again and I'll let go. Agreed?" She nodded quickly. "Yes," she whispered. He held her down longer than he needed to, enjoying the feel of her underneath him. Lying on top of her had sent more blood rushing to his cock, and he was now almost fully hard. He should have gotten up, needed to get up, but instead he used a knee and pressed it between her tightly-closed legs. The pressure made her legs part slightly, and he used this chance to slide both his legs between hers. "No, no," she whispered. "Please, don't!" His grip on her arms had loosened, and he freed one of her wrists so that he could caress her cheek with his fingertips. His touch was so light and gentle she had to blink a couple of times in confusion. She looked into his eyes and she noticed that the anger she had seen there before had vanished. But when he realized how deeply she was studying him, he closed himself off from her, and his eyes turned hard again. A cruel smile formed on his mouth. She had no way to stop him, so he slowly began thrusting his hardness against her, dry-humping her. Her eyes widened, a tear falling out of the side of each. The wetness ran down both sides of her face and pooled in her ears. She choked back a sob; he left no question about what he was going to do to her. He surprised her then by sliding off of her. She had assumed he was going to force himself inside her right then. Instead, he pulled her up so she was sitting with him on the bed. She watched as he took a red scarf out of the back pocket of his jeans. Her mouth opened when she recognized it. He had pilfered it from her own closet. "I need to blindfold you because I'm going to take my mask off. It's kind of hot," he added, like she needed an explanation. She sucked in a gulp of air and nodded stiffly as panic blasted through her. She couldn't imagine not being able to see. More tears fell down her cheeks as he leaned in with the scarf. She closed her eyes as he wrapped it around her head, blinding her. The scarf was long, and he was able to wrap it around a few times before he tied it in back. The touch of his fingers on her face and hair was surprisingly gentle. It nearly broke him to blindfold her, watching her cry as he worked. His heart began to ache for her again. He cleared his throat, stuffing his feelings down, locking them away. "See anything?" he gruffly asked her when he had finished. The damned lump was still in his throat. She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Now, I can tie your arms and legs up too, or I can leave them free as long as you do what I say." She shivered as a vision of her naked body tied spread-eagle on the bed suddenly appeared in her mind. Or maybe he'd still keep her on her back, but raise her ankles over her shoulders and tie them to the headboard too. She shivered again. "No, I'll do what you want," she said. She felt helpless enough not being able to see. She couldn't stand it, would go crazy, if she was also completely tied down, unable to move her body at all. "Good." He pulled the hot ski mask off and rubbed his entire face. He used the mask to fan himself a few times. He was already starting to cool off; this felt much better. And now he was finally able to really look at her. The constricting view out of the eye holes in the mask was getting on his nerves. She was huddled on the bed, her body visibly shaking, her hands clasped together under her chin. She was so sweet and delicate-looking, but he knew inside of her was a fighter. He exhaled slowly. "I meant it when I said you were beautiful," he said honestly, surprised when he realized he had said the words out loud. She shuddered, frowning. He moved towards her, and gently cupped both sides of her face in his hands. She flinched violently at his touch, so he released her. "Let's see if we can try to relax you a little bit," he whispered, now taking gentle hold of her forearms. "Relax?!" she hissed at him. "You're getting ready to sexually assault me and you want me to relax?" He leaned in, and she suddenly felt his hot breath in her left ear. "Try to relax," he softly repeated, and he danced his tongue around the outside edge of her ear, sending lightning bolts down her neck that radiated throughout her body. She gasped and shuddered at that unexpected touch. He pulled back and watched her for a second. He was expecting her face to radiate hate, revulsion, or fear. He was intrigued when instead he saw that the angry terror had left her face, and a red blush had replaced it. Evidently the shiver she had just experienced was of a different kind. He stared at her reddening cheeks, half out of disbelief, and half out of curiosity. He continued to watch her squirm uncomfortably, and then decided he needed to know. "You...what, you liked that?" he finally asked her, the disbelief prominent in his tone. It was too preposterous to believe. She vehemently shook her head no, but her blush even deepened. He continued to stare, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. What a surprise! He was pretty sure he hadn't misjudged the effect his mouth on her ear had had. He'd have to do that to her again, he thought. He still had hold of her arms and he pulled them towards him, away from her body. He guided her hands until he rested them on his own chest. Her sight had been removed, so other sensations were suddenly so much more aware to her. Under her palms he was so warm, his shirt was scratchy, and his heart was beating very fast. She also felt the strength his body held underneath her hands. He smelled so good, and the knowledge of this despaired her. She wasn't supposed to be noticing his scent, his body...or anything else about him except for what she might be able to offer up to the police when this was all over. She jerked again as she felt his fingertips lightly touching her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away at her drying tears. This gentleness was confusing the hell out of her. He placed one hand gently behind her neck to hold her head steady while he traced her lips with a finger. He did this over and over until her lips and teeth finally unconsciously parted. He took advantage of that and slipped his finger just inside her mouth. "Don't bite me," he whispered. She held her mouth very still as his finger paused there, her silence his confirmation that she would behave. "Suck me," he whispered. Her mouth opened wide in shock. She wasn't sure she had heard his request correctly. She moved her mouth away from him and shook her head. "What?" she asked incredulously. He placed his finger at her lips again and cleared his throat. "Suck my finger into your mouth," he whispered. She groaned in protest, but she had no choice. Her lips opened, and then hesitantly closed around his finger. His fingertip pushed deeper inside, marrying with her tongue. She unconsciously licked his fingertip, making his whole body ache for her. He withdrew his finger slightly, then slowly slid it back in, her saliva lubricating his finger nicely. He worked his finger in and out of her mouth, over and over, mimicking the sex act. He wasn't sure where the hell the idea for the finger-sucking had come from, but it was turning him on much more than he would ever want to admit. His cock was so hard now it took everything he had not to touch himself. She felt the bed shift as he moved in even closer to her. She felt his soft breath close to her lips; it smelled wonderful and bright - like peppermint. He removed his finger from her mouth and his own mouth hovered at her lips for a few long seconds. When she felt that she couldn't take the unknown any longer, he brushed his lips against hers so feather-light she almost wasn't sure he had even done it. She felt her heart rate spike, felt the increased blood flow warming her body, flowing to places she hadn't thought about in awhile. She shuddered, horrified that he was making her feel these things. She shook her head, dazed, and then he moved back in, kissing her again, this time much more solidly. His lips were soft and warm, searching, exploring hers. His wet tongue flicked at her mouth where her lips met, and when she kept them closed, he simply said, "Open." She parted her lips slightly, and his tongue pushed inside. He groaned, moving his hands down to the middle of her back, pulling her to him. He kissed her long and deep, and when he pulled back, he was breathing hard. She was shocked to discover that she was breathless too. He tasted so good and fresh and hot. She licked her lips and could taste more of his peppermint lingering there. She amazingly found herself tilting her head up towards him, towards his lips, wanting him to kiss her again. How could this possibly be happening? He watched her lick her lips after the kiss, and his cock jerked at the sight. She had let him in her mouth, but he wanted so much more from her. "I want you to kiss me back this time," he whispered to her. The words were hardly out when he was suddenly on her mouth again, her lips already parted for his tongue. She barely had her wits in order and didn't fully process what he had asked until he pulled back, grasping her shoulders roughly. "I said, 'kiss me'," he demanded, his voice husky and urgent. His lips landed on hers again, and this time she responded, moving her mouth with his. He pulled away slightly, muttering, "Oh, yeah...just like that," then he returned to her lips. He moaned as he slid his hands down lower and still lower on her back until he could go no further. Without him even having to ask her, and hardly believing it herself, she leaned forward into him, lifting her body slightly in the process so he'd have room to slide his hands underneath her bottom. He did, and he let out a deep groan as he pulled her to him. "Yeah, you come here," he whispered hotly. He settled her so that she was on her knees, and straddling his right thigh. He kept his hands on her ass, and he kneaded it over her robe. But since she was wearing nothing underneath it, the feeling of her nakedness on his clothed thigh was truly stunning her. It felt so good to kiss him, and she was dimly aware that she was giving as well as she was getting. She wasn't exactly sure if she was kissing him now because he was making her, or if she was kissing him because he had finally given her permission to do so. Her brain finally shut down and she forgot herself completely. She threw herself into his kisses. Her hands traveled up from where he had placed them on his chest until they were locked tightly behind his neck. She pulled his head down lower, towards her, plastering her body against his. She couldn't help but rub herself a little more on his rock-hard leg. She even slid her breasts around on his chest, the silky material of her robe teasing her nipples delightfully. "Wait...wait," he gasped in disbelief, freezing at her enthusiasm, pushing her back slightly so he could look down at her. "Are...are you getting off on this?" he whispered, shocked. He looked down at the rest of her. Her body was nearly stuck to his, and he knew it wasn't only because he had pulled her closer to him. She had closed some of that distance all on her own. Her hands immediately fell from behind his neck back down into her lap. She scooted backwards off of his leg. "I...I..." she stammered, shaking her head furiously back and forth. "No...not at all, absolutely not," she said. She knew that her face was probably as red as a stop sign. What the hell was she doing? He couldn't believe how horny he was, how much he wanted her. It amused him how she was so emphatically denying her own ever-growing arousal. He noticed, dismayed, that she was now quickly returning to her closed-down self. He watched her hands clench together, and he longed for her to be open and willing for him again. "Lay down on your stomach," he said. His voice sounded gravelly and husky, even to his own ears. He took her wrists in his hands, pulling on them. "My stomach? No, no!" she whispered frantically. She scooted away from him until she was huddled up at the top of the bed, sitting on the pillows. She held her hands out, creating a barrier between them. "Not my...you're not going to...with my..." He blinked. She had completely thrown him. "What?" he asked. Her hands flew to her bottom. "Anal," she whispered. "Please, no," she begged. He was shocked into silence for a second, that thought having never entered his mind, and then he surprised her by softly laughing. "No, no," he said. She remained frozen on the pillows. "I promise," he said. "No...um...butt stuff." "Can't you just leave and not do this to me?" she whispered. He paused, then sighed. Thoughts raced through his head: What about his revenge? His hate? Those desires had mostly disappeared now, but he still couldn't bring himself to walk out her door. He wasn't sure where those two emotions had gone, but lust had come from out of nowhere and was winning in his mind and body at present. She was, amazingly, filling him with a wanting that he hadn't felt in a long time, and had maybe never felt before. He'd have to unpack those feelings and examine them at a later time. But for now, he knew that here with her was where he wanted to be. "Please?" she whispered, interrupting his thoughts. He didn't answer, couldn't answer. He ran his hand over the outside of one of her thighs, and she shuddered at his touch. "Was that reaction out of fear, or was it from something else?" he whispered. Her shocked intake of breath was the only answer she was able to give him. She was a stunned puppet as he maneuvered her down on the bed and turned her over onto her belly. He watched her laying there, a bundle of taut nerves. "I'm going to straddle you," he whispered. She whimpered, but that was all. The bed rocked with his shifting weight as he threw his right leg over her thighs, resting himself comfortably just underneath her buttocks. He stared at the round hump of her bottom. It enticed him to no end. He hadn't planned on doing it, but since she had brought it up, his hands traveled there first of their own free will. "You promised!!" she hissed, her cheeks quickly tightening under his big hands. "I only promised there would be no anal sex. I never said I wouldn't play with your ass," he chuckled darkly. He ran his hands all over her butt while she whined, and then, on a whim, he grabbed the end of her robe and flipped it up to her waist. "Don't!" she whispered fiercely, but it was too late. He stopped everything and sucked in his breath when he saw creamy, bare skin. "Wow," he said, a slow smile breaking across his lips. "Surprise, surprise...we don't sleep in any panties, do we?" he murmured. She heard the teasing smile in his words and she buried her face in the bed. She tried to cover herself with her hands, but he caught and locked both her wrists together in just one of his much bigger hands, and he easily held them out of his way so he could let his free hand roam wherever it wanted. "Mmmmm," he breathed, skimming his fingertips over her soft skin, deliberately making sure he touched every inch of her. He watched and savored her nervous responses to each touch. He ran his fingers slowly up and down her crack and along the sensitive inside of her thighs all the while she was whimpering, trembling, and protesting. "My, God! Just...so very, very nice," he murmured softly, appreciatively. It surprised her when he let her wrists go, but she wasn't prepared when he quickly took a cheek in each hand and spread them roughly apart. "Well, hello, there!" He said with a chuckle. She couldn't imagine who he was talking to, as she was too astonished to reply. She tried to squeeze her cheeks back together, but his hands were much stronger than she was. She tried to buck him off, but she couldn't move much with him sitting on her thighs. She gave in when she realized her movements only probably helped him spread her open even wider, and might have even offered him a better view of other intimate places. "Please stop this!" she wailed softly, her body flushing hot with her deep embarrassment. She couldn't imagine anything worse, but her mortification intensified when she felt him lean in even closer. She could feel the heat coming off of his body. It radiated down on her so-private skin as he leaned in. She could almost feel his eyes inspecting her. Her heart raced, skipping beats, warning her to escape, but she knew there was nowhere for her to go, trapped as she was underneath him. "Your asshole is...just...gorgeous," he chuckled. She started to moan a protest, but the moan turned into a screech when she felt him lean in as close to her little hole as he possibly could...and then he softly blew on it. He laughed as he watched her clench herself so tightly that her asshole nearly disappeared inside itself. He let go of her cheeks and smacked each one hard with both hands. When she dared cry out, he impulsively leaned in and planted a quick kiss where he had smacked her. "You bastard," she whispered, her voice breaking as it turned into a sob. He chuckled, pulling her robe back down to her thighs, covering her up again. "I'm sorry if that embarrassed you, but it's a shame to hide it. Your ass is incredible," he murmured, his hands still kneading the soft, squashy flesh. It was warming up nicely under his palms from his stinging slaps. "Anybody ever tell you that? How beautiful your ass is?" he asked. She was speechless at his words. She most certainly had never been told that. She could hardly believe what she was hearing; her face felt so hot she wondered if it hadn't been slapped at some point too. "You act like you don't believe me, but I'm dead serious," he said, pressing the side of his face to her butt like she was his own personal pillow. "Mmmm," he chuckled. If she was his, he mused, he wouldn't even let her wear pants around the house at all. He froze, and sat up straight, wondering where that last thought had come from. If she was his? He shook his head. He was losing focus. He needed to somehow regain his control. She was greatly relieved when he changed his tactics and slowly slid both his hands up the length of her spine. He took hold of the back of her neck and began slowly kneading it. He noticed her hands were straight down at her sides, balled up into those tight little fists. He massaged and squeezed her neck for several long minutes, thinking to himself. She made no sound, made no effort to struggle. He figured she was willing this to be over as quickly as possible, yet he was determined to draw it out as long as he could. He was having so much fun touching her body, exploring her, watching her squirm as he paid her dirty compliments. He smiled to himself as he realized that he had meant every word he had said to her. She thought he was playing with her, messing with her. But that was, overall, not the case. He did not have to search hard at all to find ways to complement this woman. He found her beautiful -- everywhere. And, she most definitely was not frigid. How in the hell could her husband have ever come to that conclusion? Had he ever touched her at all? Had he just made it all up? She was a reserved person, for sure. Christ, she was a soccer mom, not a porn star. But from what he saw, she was like a sexual firecracker that had never really been lit. She just needed the right spark to get her going. And, God, he thought with a chuckle, was she ever going! Payback in the Bedroom Ch. 01 He thought of all the things he had said to her, and he chuckled, realizing he had missed one. He kicked himself for not telling her that when he had bent down and kissed her ass - literally kissed her ass - he could even smell her pussy. It was so close by and had smelled so tangy sweet that he had been tempted to lift her hips off the bed and tongue her from behind right then. It made his cock ache thinking about the missed opportunity of burying his tongue in her. Had he done that, however, he was sure he would have ended up with the heel of her foot getting shoved forcefully back into his nose, probably breaking it. He smiled at the thought. She most certainly would have done it, and it would have been worth it. Most definitely it would have been worth it! His hands moved slightly to each side of her neck so he could massage her stiff shoulders. He kneaded down the length of her arms to those tightly-clenched fingers. He wouldn't be surprised at all if later he saw little red-tinged half-moons where her nails had dug deeply into her palms. After a few dozen trips up and down her arms, her fists loosened slightly. He leaned down on top of her, his body molding itself onto hers so that his mouth could reach and plant another feather-light kiss on her right ear. She gasped, her ass bucking lightly against him, her entire body shuddering. He grinned, rising back up, satisfied at her response. She could deny it all she wanted, but she sure as hell was enjoying this too. He ran his hands up and down her back, his fingers wide, squeezing and deeply kneading her flesh. She hissed and tensed the first few times he came close again to her round butt, but he always let his hands travel back up again, chuckling just loud enough so she could hear him. She sniffed a couple times. He was tormenting her and she knew it. "If you leave now...and I know people say this all the time on TV...but I swear I won't tell anybody about this." He smiled. Evidently she could be as clichéd as he could. "Nah, I'd rather stay," he whispered back into her ear. His lips barely made contact and she moaned as a tremor rumbled through her body. "And make you shake some more just like that," he added. She turned her head, burying that ear into the sheets, trying to avoid the feelings his lips made inside her when they touched her. He saw what she did, and it made him grin. God, he wanted her so badly! He sat back up, his hands becoming fists as he lightly pounded them on the muscles of her back, working them, and attacking the myriad of knots she had. He smiled a sad smile. "You smell so good," he said. She didn't answer, and he continued. "You smell just the same as when I met you," he murmured. Then he froze, wondering why he had just told her that. She raised her head and turned it slightly, as if she was trying to look back at him through the blindfold. "What?" she asked, sounding genuinely surprised. He didn't answer, just continued the backrub. "You've been close enough to me before to...to smell me?" she asked, shocked. He closed his eyes, cursing himself silently. "Yeah. I met you at the Christmas party on base. Two years ago," he answered. He hadn't planned on telling her that, but he'd already let it slip that he'd met her. She might as well know where and when it was. Her mind whirled, instantly on alert. "You're military," she breathed. Used to be, he thought to himself. He still remembered that night. Her husband had introduced her to all of his men. He'd even shaken her hand, looked into her green eyes. She'd smiled at him, but just then someone, another army wife probably, had called her name from across the room. She'd swung her head around to see who it was, and the scent from her coconut-scented hair had wafted up to him. Later, as he was sitting in a folding chair in the corner of the rented hall with his buddies around him, one-upping each other with their fabricated war stories, he watched the couples dancing to the corny Christmas music. There she was in black high heels, her black sparkly party dress barely swishing around her calves, deep in discussion with her husband. They did not look happy. Maybe they'd had a fight before the party. He had felt good that night, though, watching her. But that was before the accident, before his life had changed. That was before all his hopes in life had vanished, along with everything else he had held of any importance. "Yeah," he grunted, ending the backrub. "Honorable Discharge." He paused a second or two, still enjoying the feel of her under him. He sighed, ready for a subject change. "I really don't want you to be afraid," he told her. She was responding so nicely to him, whether she wanted to or not. "I really want..." he hesitated. He wanted what? He had wanted revenge, had wanted her husband to pay for what he had done by way of her pain. But now he wanted something else entirely. But what? Understanding? Love? He did want love. From somebody who loved him too. But that was never going to happen, and he knew it. The knowledge crashed over him and he nearly started to cry. Through no fault of his own, his life now was a waste. It was no secret what he, as well as any friends he used to have now knew: He was basically waiting to die. He swung himself off her so he was beside her on the bed. She was such a nice diversion to his constant dark thoughts. "Your legs are so pretty, they're driving me crazy," he whispered, reaching out and running his hands up the back of one leg from her ankle to her thigh, then doing the same with the other leg. She flinched slightly as he caressed her. His fingers felt a little rough, but they were gentle. "I was right that you'd feel soft and smooth," he added, quietly. He touched her closest hand. "Sit up for me," he whispered. She did as he asked, and he pulled her to him, kissing her hotly again. She shook her head, surprised to find his mouth on hers again so quickly. His touch set bright flashes going off behind her eyes. "You taste so good," he murmured. She could feel his mouth smiling against hers. Her heartbeat was hammering in her chest and she felt the beginnings of a familiar ache between her legs. God, maybe he was turning her on... He kissed her again, his lips smooth and warm and wet as they moved against hers. His hands skimmed her arms as they traveled down to the tie that held her robe together at her waist. Immediately her hands were pushing his away, but she pulled hers back and squeaked in fright when she thought of how he'd punish her for fighting him again. It was so hard to fight what her instincts were telling her to do. Instead of getting angry at her, he softly chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, only kissing her deeper and rougher, his lips pulling and tugging on hers. He knew exactly how to get her to give in. She was swept up in the moment, her arms taking hold of his shoulders, clinging to him so she could keep up. She was panting when he finally pulled away. "I need to see you," he said, breathing heavily. She immediately stiffened and brought her arms back down to her sides. He watched her face. She frowned as he slowly undid the tie to her robe. She did not protest as he gently opened it and pushed it off her shoulders. She felt the coolness of the room on her bare skin as the robe pooled around her thighs and lower back. He was silent for a few seconds. He watched her as she trembled. She could somehow feel his eyes staring at her. "Wow. Just...wow," he said admiringly. Her breasts were large and white, and he watched in delight as when she shivered in the air-conditioned room, each nipple darkened and hardened to a stiff point. He groaned at that sight, and he realized that he had to touch her. He leaned into her, his soft face touching hers. "You know that now I've seen them...I have to kiss them," he whispered against her cheekbone. She could hear the raw desire plainly in his words. "I...I..." she said, his words inflaming her, heating her deep in her core. "Are your nipples as sensitive to warmth as they are to the cold?" he whispered. She could hear the smile as he spoke, and she burned hot at those words. He didn't wait for an answer, but cupped a breast and took one tight nipple into his warm mouth, and he gently sucked on it. "Oh...oh!" she gasped, nearly jumping off the bed. Her movement thrust her body more fully up against his. Both his hands were on her then, gently cupping and caressing both breasts, his fingertips pulling and gently twisting the one nipple that wasn't between his talented lips. "Pl...please stop," she whispered, after several torturous seconds. He let her nipple go and looked up at her face. Her cheeks were flushed deep red, almost as red as the blindfold. "Why?" he asked, moving slightly so he could suck the other nipple into his mouth. He looked up at her face as he worked. He watched her as several emotions warred there. "Oh," she moaned at his touch, "be...because, I..." she said, not able to finish. "'Because I' what? 'Because I'm not supposed to like what I'm feeling', you mean?" he supplied for her. "N-no!" She shook her head, shocked and angered. He went back to touching and sucking her nipples, and she groaned softly. As his mouth was causing desires to rise in her that she had never felt before, it dawned on her then that she was irritated with what he'd said only because he was right. He was so right. She was hearing her truth coming from his mouth. It embarrassed and frustrated and aroused and pissed her off all at the same time. She didn't quite know what to do with all of that. He rubbed the side of his face against one nipple; his face was ridiculously smooth. He sucked that nipple back into his mouth and she exhaled sharply. She kept her hands balled together in her lap. She was mortified to learn, as she squirmed on the bed, that she was actually very wet. She knew he would soon find out, and the thought of that flamed her face even more. "They're so sensitive," he said, flicking her nipples, first one, and then the other, with his tongue. Her breaths sounded ragged even to her own ears. She didn't want to think about the show she was putting on for him, panting and writhing as he expertly wound her body up. He pulled on her nipples with his lips as he sucked them. She gasped in poorly-disguised pleasure every time he sucked and pulled on a nipple until it reached its stretched limit. Then he eased the suction so that the nipple popped free from his mouth, eliciting another sound of badly-veiled enjoyment from her. Then he switched breasts and did the same with her other nipple. He did this several times, and was rewarded with an excited gasp from her each time he pulled on a nipple until it popped free of his mouth. "What are you thinking?" he paused to ask her. She moaned in despair, and she bit her bottom lip so hard she wasn't surprised when she tasted a tiny drop of blood. "I know you're not going to answer me," he whispered, still roughly teasing and pinching her nipples. "But I want you to know that even though you won't say it, I still know." "What?" she gasped. "What do you know?" she asked. He was scrambling her thoughts so that she could hardly process his words. He smiled, his hands cupping and now only gently squeezing her breasts. "I know the answers. I can answer these questions for you," he smiled against one breast. "You're thinking, 'God, I love how it feels, when he sucks and pulls on my nipples like that,'" he whispered to her. "That's exactly what you're thinking." "No!" she said, fervently shaking her head back and forth, furious at him for putting words in her mouth, especially those words, even though she had to admit to herself that they were honest truth. He laughed at her stubbornness now, kissing her lips again, and then moved to her ear. She moaned and shuddered from his nearness there, as his thumbs rubbed her nipples, keeping them stiff and hard. "Honey, you won't admit it for anything, but you love it when I suck on these pretty nipples. And no matter what you say or don't say, I know you love it too," he told her. His mouth immediately went back to her breasts, continuing the sweet torture. She shook her head back and forth in aroused frustration as he relentlessly proved to her what she kept emphatically denying to them both. Her little gasps she made told them he was not misreading her, no not at all. He kissed his way all around one nipple. "Baby, my mouth can keep this up for a long, long time," he whispered, watching her. "Or, I can just stop..." He sat up, let her breasts go free, and watched her as his words sank in. Her face frowned, either from her embarrassment or diminishing arousal -- he couldn't quite tell -- and her hands wouldn't stop fretting, trying to decide whether they should settle on the bed, her thighs, or on him. He laughed at her indecision, moving up to kiss and nuzzle at her neck. "But, actually, right now I want to find out something else from you." He kissed her lips gently, and when he pulled away, her face was tilted so she was looking up at him, though she could see nothing through the blindfold. But that didn't matter. She still felt paralyzed by him, bound by his invisible gaze. "And you can lie, you can even choose not answer me, whatever. But I will know the truth," he said. She tried to take a deep breath, but it stuck halfway in her throat. He could tell she was agonizing over what more he could possibly want from her. "I want to know," he whispered simply, "if you're wet." She was taken aback for several silent seconds. "What?!" she finally whispered. This was crazy, ludicrous. But, she knew him, and she knew that he was serious. And she also knew that he would get his answer whether she gave it to him verbally or not. Then, she did panic. She tried to roll off the bed quickly so she could run away from him, but he was much faster than she was. He caught her and pushed her down, crawling on top of her. He was between her legs before she realized what was happening. Her robe opened fully in the struggle, and she was now exposed completely to him. He pressed himself onto her, his body weight holding her firmly to the bed. His hands took turns caressing her smooth thighs and her soft breasts. She whined until he silenced her by kissing her urgently, his tongue darting into her protesting mouth. But she was losing herself in those kisses, slowly being seduced by his sandalwood cologne - or was it his aftershave? His peppermint breath tasted so good, and his clothed body on top of hers was driving her wild. The turtleneck he had on was so bumpy and scratchy, and it was teasing her already hard nipples as he moved against her when they kissed. He grinded himself against her pussy, and she could feel him beneath his black jeans, so very stiff and hard, and ready for her. He took both her wrists and held them tightly above her head in one of his big hands. He then started playing the fingers of his other hand down the middle of her stomach. She stiffened when it dawned on her where he was going. "No!" she said sharply, her word slicing through his hazy lust. She struggled against him, desperation starting to fill her. "Shhhh," he said, his fingers already buried in her little mound of hair. "So soft..." he purred. "Please let me touch you..." "No! I don't want you to...not there!" she hissed, but by then it was too late. He had already touched a finger to those lips. He was the surprised one, however, when his finger easily slipped between her pink folds. He paused, a bit bewildered, and he quickly looked up at her blindfolded face as he exhaled a ragged breath. She was no longer breathing, had stopped fighting, and had stopped moving at all. He couldn't believe it. How could she possibly be this wet? He began to move his finger gently then, exploring her, and her breaths came again in staccato-like fashion. He dipped his thumb into her juices and gently brushed it over her clit. Her hips nearly bucked him off the bed and she groaned in startled surprise. He sat up then. Maybe he needed to go take a break and look and see if she kept any beer in the fridge. He had to somehow get a handle on this. He knew she couldn't see him, but he was staring at her anyway, rubbing his slick finger and thumb together. "Wow." He simply said. "You're...you're so...wow." He had been prepared for the worst: for her to not respond to him at all, for him to find her completely dry. He had assumed, had been kind of looking forward to licking her senseless while she got wet. But instead she was already dripping for him. Her hands immediately covered her face, shame overpowering her. "Oh, God," she whispered, half-sobbing, wishing she could disappear down into the mattress, down into the floorboards, down into the center of the planet. It couldn't be any hotter there than he was making her. He was curious, so he put his wet finger in his mouth and licked it, tasted it. Then, he rolled his eyes, moaning loudly. "Oh, fuck! You taste so good!" he growled, chuckling. He hadn't smiled this big in a long, long while. "Oh, no!" she moaned, never this horrified in her life. "And he's a damned liar," he said so low she almost didn't hear him. Her head snapped up. She was quiet for a few seconds. "What did you say?" she finally whispered. "Your husband," he repeated, "lied." "What?" she hissed, propping herself up on her elbows, her embarrassment skittering away. He chuckled. "He said you were cold. He said you didn't like sex," he murmured, deep in thought, tasting his finger and thumb again. She heard his lips smacking together. "Stop licking your damned fingers. God, I'm going to throw up," she said, her hand covering her mouth. He hadn't tasted pussy in a long while, but he was pretty sure hers was a taste he wouldn't soon forget. "You should bottle and sell the taste of your pussy," he mused. She could hear the grin as he spoke. "You'd own a mansion, a whole fleet of sportscars, hell, maybe even your own island." "Fuck you," she whispered furiously, scooting out from under him, clawing at the blindfold. "Hey!" he said, grabbing at her, taking hold of a wrist. She had pulled the blindfold loose and it was starting to come undone. "Who sent you here? Is my husband part of this? Did he pay you to come here?" she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeal. "No, no, no," he whispered, trying to shush her. "Get off me," she growled, fighting again. She didn't care now if her children heard the struggle, she didn't care if he hit her; she now only had her escape in mind. He pulled her tighter and tighter to his body until she had no more room to move. The friction of his shirt on her nipples was making her crazy again. "Tell me who you are. Tell me what this is about," she demanded. "You know us somehow," she shook her head. "Please, tell me!" she pleaded. "I...I..." he began, his grip on her wrists loosening. "And take off this damned blindfold," she muttered, somehow getting her hands free from his and clawing at the material. He didn't move fast enough to stop her, and suddenly the blindfold was gone. She blinked several times, her eyes getting used to seeing again, even though the room was mostly dark. He let go of her, and she scooted away from him, pulling her robe back on, tying it tightly around her middle. He was now sitting sideways on the bed, so she saw his face only in profile. He was young -- several years younger than she was -- and very good-looking. Devastatingly good-looking. Wow, she thought. She brought a hand up to her mouth. "You're beautiful," she breathed, the words out before she could call them back.