Sudden Sex: 69 Sultry Short Stories Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Introduction

  BOOKED

  FRANK

  RIDING THE 5:15

  PEACH-COLORED PANTIES

  RESERVED

  NIGHT VISITOR

  TRIPARTITE

  LIFT A FINGER

  STOPOVER

  THE POINT OF LEAST RESISTANCE

  MISDIRECTION

  SWEET AND SPICY

  WORKING UP A SWEAT

  COME AS YOU ARE

  POSSESSIVE TENSE

  NECESSITIES FOR A PERFECT MARRIAGE

  ONE SLEEP

  CRAWLING THROUGH TEMPTATION

  TICKTOCK

  THROWING SUGAR

  BOUND TO SERVE

  NAUGAHYDE

  THE PERFECT PAIR

  TAMING HIS WILD CAT

  AT THE CAR WASH

  THE EXORCISM

  MY ARMY BUDDY’S GIRLFRIEND

  TWO-MAN JOB

  SEX IN THE SHOWER

  DEEP THROAT, DEEP LOVE

  HOARDER

  TV REPAIRS

  TRIPTYCH

  SEASONAL AFFECTED DISORDER

  THE SCRIBE

  COME TO THE LIGHT

  NIGHT HEAT

  FOR THE MOMENT

  OBEY ALL SIGNS

  GIRLS SLEEP WITH GIRLS

  THE DEALMAKERS

  AMONG THE TREES

  LAST CALL

  I’D RATHER GO BLIND

  RUBBER CHICKEN

  SUGAR UPSETS MY VAGINA

  CLEMENT

  HEART ON THE DANCE FLOOR

  THE NOT-SO-BLUSHING BRIDE

  HOMECOMING

  DRESS ME UP PRETTY

  COMMITTEE WORK

  QUEEN OF PARKING-LOT BLOW JOBS

  HELLUVA THING

  MAD GHOSTS OF LUST

  BOOKMARKED

  CUCKOLD’S NEST

  COOKIE

  EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

  STRESS RELIEF

  IF YOU KNOW WHERE TO LOOK

  THRILL THE COMPETITION

  COSMIC FATE

  LET ME TIE YOU UP?

  NICE DREAM

  EVA

  DRESS CODE

  CONSEQUENCES

  BOOKENDED

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  Copyright Page

  Love is a sudden revelation: a kiss is always a discovery.

  —Anonymous

  INTRODUCTION

  My favorite shorts are frayed. You can see the tips of the pockets poking through, pale white against the sublimely faded denim. Strands dangle from the thigh holes, leaving just the right amount to the imagination. What would happen if you pulled a thread? Would the entire pair of shorts unravel, leaving me naked?

  My favorite short stories are totally different—brand new, rather than well-worn. Crisp and focused, taut and tight. The pieces in this collection are waiting for you to slide them on, button the fly then turn and admire how well they fit your kink.

  Because—as everyone who knows me understands by now—I’m all about the kink. This collection features BDSM, spanking, toys, tools, girls gone bad and men who need it just as bad. I’ve assembled stories from writers I’ve worked with for nearly two decades as well as wordsmiths who are new to me. What do the pieces have in common? Each one maxes out at fifteen hundred words. That’s not a lot of small talk. We’ve cut the awkward getting-to-know-you phase and instead parked you right up at the point. We’re past first base, past second, on our way to third. His hand is under your skirt; her palm is on your cock. We’re all adults here—no need to fight the fact that sometimes what we crave is simple: Sudden Sex.

  Take a breath. Bite your lip. Get ready to get off.

  Nothing can get more sudden than the stories in this book.

  XXX,

  Alison Tyler

  BOOKED

  Alison Tyler

  There. Finally. Thank fucking god.”

  Gina’s parking skills were tested to the maximum in order to force her Karmann Ghia into the tight space between two SUVs across from the restaurant. She was visibly trembling when she exited the little citron-hued car and started to walk to the café. This was a big deal—a meeting she’d been prepping for all month. Unfortunately for her, lunch was scheduled for one of those high-end, chichi restaurants that made her tense simply looking at the menu. She’d hoped to arrive early enough to stake her place at a table and get comfortable, but the restaurant wasn’t opened yet.

  She dug into her purse for her datebook to make sure she had the time right. Most of her friends used iPhones or BlackBerries to track their daily lives, but Gina preferred paper. Nothing beeped in her purse to let her know she’d missed an appointment. She had to grab the leather-bound calendar and flip the pages to find out where she was supposed to be. Her calendar was filled with words in red. Jesus, she was booked. She couldn’t see an inch of free time for the next month.

  But at this moment, for once, she was early.

  Next to the restaurant stood a used bookstore, a throwback to a simpler era. On a whim, Gina pushed open the glass door, thinking she’d be able to peruse the shelves for half an hour and calm her nerves. Maybe she’d grab a novel to keep her company, something she’d read before that would feel familiar and safe. The man behind the counter hardly looked up at her as she walked in. She caught the fact that he was youngish and cute with a pair of ’50s-style black glasses and curly dark hair. He put his finger on his page to mark his spot when she paused to breathe in the smell. Used books. She sighed, feeling more relaxed from the moment the scent surrounded her.

  “Vanillin,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The aroma of old books. It’s actually lignin—related to vanillin. It’s why used bookstores have that fragrance they do. I read about it”—he motioned to a book on a shelf to his left—“in a book.” He grinned.

  She looked him over—maybe a little older than she’d original thought, slightly scruffy, T-shirt with something about obscenities on the chest.

  “What sort of books do you like?” he asked.

  She thought for a second. “Ones that have happy endings.”

  “A romantic?” he asked.

  She never considered herself one. “I like noir—but the stories where the boy gets the girl in the end. Or vice versa.”

  “Top shelf,” he told her, indicating the back room. She went there and waited. What if he followed? What would that mean? She’d been out of the dating loop since she’d landed her current job, the one that had sucked up all her time, her mind, her soul, her life. Her fingers trailed over the broken spines of misused paperbacks, and she hoped he would follow her. But what would she say? What would she do?

  She went to a corner of the room and sat on the edge of a short wooden ladder that must have been there for stocking purposes. For just a moment, Gina closed her eyes and breathed in that used-book scent once more. Then she heard the man say, “I locked the front door.”

  “Why?”

  He lifted her to her feet and kissed her rather than responding verbally, and she felt a flood of emotions all at once. She had to go to lunch. She had an important meeting. She had to remain professional, un-mussed; oh, fucking god, his hand was in her hair, his lips tasted so good, sweet, dreamy. Her back was up against the wall of books. She stepped out of her spectator heels and he picked her up in his arms and held her to the stacks. He was hard. She could feel his erection against her. It had been so long, too long. When had she last let her fingers wander over a favorite book? When had she last let her fingers slip under her waistband and into her panties?

  He roughly pushed her neat gray skirt to her hips, groaned when he felt she was weari
ng stockings and suspenders. “Noir,” he smiled at her. “Femme fatale.” No, she wasn’t. She was the good girl. The secretary in the pale pink sweater. The gal Friday the detective always treated like one of the guys, never seeing the sex appeal beneath the prim, petal twin set. Why did the good girls always have to finish last?

  She wasn’t going to finish last this time. Gina groaned when the man probed beneath her bikinis to find how wet she was. Suddenly, undeniably wet. His fingers circled her clit, the rough pads of his fingertips brushing against her most sensitive spot, creating a delicious type of friction. He undid his jeans and let the head of his cock find her slit, and entered her with one forceful thrust. Gina felt her body tighten around his. She hadn’t been fucked in so long. She couldn’t even remember how sweet the pleasure felt. When he tripped his fingers over her clit as he worked her, she moaned out loud.

  The sound surprised her and Gina opened her eyes. She was by herself in the back room, pressed up against the bookshelf, hand in her knickers, lost in an unexpected fantasy. Oh, god. What if someone had seen her? She took a few steps so that she could peek through the doorway and down the aisle. The clerk was still reading his book at the front as if he hadn’t heard a whisper. What had caused her to daydream like that? Too much stress. Clearly. She was losing her cool.

  She grabbed High Window in her slightly sticky fingers and carried the novel to the front desk. Her cheeks felt hot.

  When the clerk rang her up, Gina was still slightly breathless. She couldn’t find her wallet in her satchel. The clerk patiently watched her take out her datebook as she rummaged for her billfold. He peeked into the gaping mouth of her purse with obvious interest. “No cell phone?”

  “Can’t stand them.”

  “Then how will I call you?”

  “Call me?” She was too shaken to follow his conversation.

  “Slow down.” He put his hand on top of hers. Warmth flooded through her whole body. “I saw what you were doing back there.” He indicated the round silver mirror at the top of the doorway, one angled to see everything going on in the back room. “It’s supposed to catch a thief,” he explained matter-of-factly, “but it caught you.”

  Her heart raced. She flipped her datebook open, already knowing. “I’m booked,” she said helplessly. “This month is insane.” Besides, how could she go out with someone who’d caught her touching herself? She felt more embarrassed than if he’d caught her shoplifting.

  He reached for a bookmark from a small stack at the counter.

  She started to wave him away. “I always bend the corners,” she said.

  Undaunted, he wrote his name and number on the back of a bookmark and slipped it between her pages. The action made her think of the way he’d fucked her in her fantasy, his cock sliding easily inside of her. What he said next changed everything in Gina’s world.

  “Girls who bend corners should be punished,” he said, and she sucked in her breath before she could stop herself. Her visible discomfort seemed to please him. He didn’t rush to put her at ease. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Nothing like this had ever happened to Gina before. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. “Yes,” she managed to whisper. “God, yes.”

  “I’d like that, too. I’d like to put you over my lap and give you a good, hard spanking for what you did back there. Touching yourself in my store…” He let the sentence linger between them, so that they could both imagine what she’d looked like back there—untamed, out of control. “What were you thinking about?”

  “You,” she said, the truth tumbling forward unbidden. “You fucking me.”

  “You can find the time,” he said, “if you want to.”

  She slid the book into her purse and hurried to her meeting.

  FRANK

  Donna George Storey

  I made Sean take care of registration at the inn, even though I’d booked the room. While he exchanged pleasantries with the pretty receptionist, I stood back and pretended to study the rack of brochures advertising limousine tours of the wine country, rinky-dink local museums and a geyser that was no longer so faithful after the last big earthquake. As we stepped out of the foyer, I caught the young woman studying me curiously. Obviously she hadn’t yet realized that some guests prefer not to be seen.

  Sean and I carried our own overnight bags back to our cottage suite, hurrying along the path through the perennial garden as if to avoid prying eyes. We closed the door behind us and exchanged a smile. The sitting room was just like the photograph online—marble fireplace, luxury sofa, furnishing that suggested both elegance and self-indulgence.

  My husband headed to the bedroom.

  “This has potential,” he said, nodding toward the four-poster bed.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I teased. “Why don’t you go get a glass of wine or something? I need to freshen up.”

  He smiled. “I noticed a place that has tastings on the town square. I’ll take my time.”

  As soon as he was gone, I promptly ran myself a bath in the champagne slipper tub. My lover, who would only come to visit me here at this inn, insisted that I be “clean” for him, which meant my armpits, legs and vulva had to be freshly shaved. If I was sloppy, he’d drag me back into the bathroom and do the job right himself.

  Carefully bathed and perfumed with moisturizer, I wrapped myself in the inn’s terry robe and curled up on the sofa to wait for him. Already my lower parts were feeling tingly, and my breasts ached for his touch. I ran a finger idly over my satin-smooth labia, checking for any strays. Without thinking, one finger dipped into the cleft and brushed my distended clit. I flicked it tentatively, then with more purpose.

  The knock on the cottage door made me jump.

  I rushed to the door.

  “Eva, my dear, how good to see you after all this time,” he said in his usual proper tone. It was Frank.

  “Yes, it’s been too long,” I said, instinctively bowing my head.

  He took my chin in his hand and gazed sternly into my eyes. “Is that why you’re so impatient? Look at what you’re wearing. Does a lady greet her guest this way?”

  “I missed you so much, I thought we…” I faltered.

  “Hasn’t your husband been keeping the home furrow plowed?”

  I swallowed. “It’s never like it is with you, Frank.”

  His dark eyes softened. “Since you’re in such a hurry, go get the bed ready. I’ll join you in a few moments.”

  My pulse racing, I pulled back the quilt and sheets and spread out the large towel I’d brought from the bathroom. I perched myself at the edge of the bed feeling very much on edge myself. Who knew what Frank would do tonight? I was suddenly aware of the warm slickness between my legs.

  Frank could make me wet before he even touched me.

  Just then he sauntered into the bedroom, an impressive erection already tenting his robe. I blushed and looked away.

  He sat on the bed beside me. “You have something naughty to tell me, don’t you, Eva? I know that expression on your face.”

  My cheeks flamed brighter.

  “Are you going to confess or will I need to resort to firmer means?”

  I felt another gush of arousal ooze down my thighs.

  “While I waited for you, I…”

  “Out with it.”

  “I touch…touched myself.”

  “Indeed? Do you think of me and masturbate when you’re at home, too?”

  I nodded reluctantly.

  Frank clicked his tongue. “Your poor bastard of a husband has no idea how depraved you are. You know you need to be disciplined for this?”

  I nodded again, my heart now thumping against my ribs.

  Calmly, deliberately, Frank arranged my body across the bed and tied my wrists to the bedposts with the belts of our robes.

  “Now that your greedy fingers are safe from wandering into a dirty place, I’ll teach you what it means to be patient.”

  Straddling me, Frank yan
ked my loose robe apart and began to kiss my breasts ever so softly for what seemed like an hour until I was squirming and moaning and juicing all over. Gradually he increased the stimulation, twisting my stiff pink nipples between his fingers, nipping them gently.

  “Please, touch me. Down there,” I begged.

  “Patience, my dear. You’re going to learn patience tonight.”

  He suckled my breasts some more, laughing softly at my growing distress.

  Finally, I realized what I had to do. “Frank?”

  “Yes, my dear.”

  “I’m sorry for being rude. I promise I’ll wear a respectable dress next time. Pearls. I’ll greet you like a proper lady.”

  “Yes, I want to see you in your Sunday best, Eva,” he agreed, appeased at last. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson, we can proceed. Spread your legs.” He trailed his fingers over my shaved slit, and I shuddered. “Very nice and clean today, Eva. Not like the last time when you were lazy. Do you still want me to touch you there?”

  I groaned assent.

  It was then he planted a slap on my tender flesh. I stiffened from the shock, but the sting was immediately followed by a wave of hot pleasure. He spanked my vulva again. This time I sighed and opened my legs wider.

  “You are a wicked girl,” he announced coolly. “You’ve deprived your lover of the pleasure of arousing you. There’s only one way to control your lust. I want you to get a composition book and record all the times you masturbate while thinking of me. Describe every thought and deed in filthy, explicit detail. When we meet again, you’ll stand before me naked and read the entries aloud while I decide how to punish you.”

  My pussy clenched so hard I whimpered and arched up against my bonds. “I prom…promise,” I stuttered.

  “Do you want me to fuck you now? Be honest. Isn’t that why you came to the door with your tits practically falling out of that slutty bathrobe?”

  “Yes, oh, yes.”

  Suddenly impatient himself, Frank threw off his robe, knelt between my legs and pushed himself into me in a single stroke. Tweaking my nipple just so, he began thrusting into me, with exquisite care, so I could rub my bald lips against his wiry bush.