Saturday, 22 April 2017

#EroticSuspense: Woman Named Red by Stasia Black

I sit on a plush chair with a club soda in my hand, back ramrod straight, and stare at the man I love while he destroys me.
“So, while I do love social calls,” Kennedy says, calmly looking around at the three investors he’s called together to the back room of his restaurant. “I know your time is money. And that’s why I asked you here. You might have heard I’m putting together a group to buy The Sutler hotel.” Kennedy stands up as he continues outlining the deal. He walks the short distance to where I’m sitting.
He comes to a stop in front of me and holds out a hand. He’s still talking to the men, but he smiles down at me. But there’s something off about the smile.
Way off.
The glint in his eyes is hard. Almost cruel.
Whatever he brought me here for, it’s about to play out.
If I let it.
How did we get here? None of this was supposed to happen. I was never supposed to get in this deep. I was certainly never supposed to fall in love.
Kennedy keeps his hand outstretched to me, unmoving. He’s waiting for me to take it. To partner with him in this game of cruel intentions.
I stare up at him. Just days ago this man told me he loved me in the most tender of voices. His eyes had been so open. His soul bared.
But now? Now he looks ruthless, through and through. Over the last month, I’ve wanted to pretend he wasn’t the monster I long thought him to be.
God, I see it now. I see it all so clearly.
I take Kennedy’s hand and pull myself up to standing. This goddamn bastard. He wants to punish me? I’ll take whatever game he wants to play and dish it back three times as hard.
He wouldn’t even let me explain. He wouldn’t listen to a single word from me. After everything he did, after every benefit of the doubt I gave him.
I stand in front of him and glare him down, just as hard and furious as he is.
His sales pitch falters and I arch an eyebrow in challenge. He swallows hard and then his eyebrows furrow. He walks around me until he’s standing at my back.
It takes all my presence of mind, but I don’t look over my shoulder at him. I stare straight ahead.
And so I’m completely unprepared when he reaches around to the front of my dress, grabs it at the center of the bodice, and tears it down the middle.
I gasp in shock but then try to stifle my reaction. My eyes shoot briefly to the three businessmen sitting on the couches facing us. Their eyes all zero in on the show. On me.
I’m wearing a lacy semi-see-through black bra and matching panty set.
Not for long.
Kennedy undoes the clasp of my bra. He doesn’t jerk it down my arms, though. Instead, goddamn him, his lips drop to the back of my neck and his fingertips caress my arms as he gently pushes the bra straps down.
Goddamn him. My breathing comes out stuttered. All my nerve endings light up. His breath on the back of my neck… The barest of his touches on my skin and already, my body’s completely alive for him. Wetness soaks my underwear.
If he entered me right now, even after everything that’s happened, I’d be completely primed for him.
The cups of my bra drop and his hands take their place, massaging gently one moment and then harshly pinching and pulling on my nipples the next.
I jolt and cry out. He’s never done that before. Never been so rough—not even when I asked. I pant and twist against him.
“You like that, don’t you? And look at them watching you. You’re making them hard. That makes you even wetter, doesn’t it?”
He knows just how much it turns me on. And they are watching me. These three powerful, rich men look captivated as they watch Kennedy touch me. One man—Bruce—has his hand at his pants, rubbing his crotch. Oh shit, that’s hot.
I can’t believe Kennedy is touching me like this in front of these strangers. God, it’s so wrong, so dirty. Their eyes on my bared breasts, watching Kennedy work me like a slut.
And work me he is. He’s relentless as he twists the peaks of my nipples, plucking and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. He licks and bites at the back of my neck and continues torturing my nipples until panting in need.
He knows just how much all of this turns me on—the audience, me being on display, and God, how to work every inch of my body with his talented fingers.
Then he slaps my breast. It’s not hard, more of a sting, but still.
“On your knees.” He snaps and points at the floor.
And damn him. God-fucking-damn him.
I drop to my knees. I’ve lost all thoughts of one-upping him. He knows all my kinks and has learned my body far too well.
“Take my cock out.”
I unbuckle his belt in a frenzy and undo his button and fly just as quickly. Finally I get to that big beautiful cock of his and take him in hand.
He hisses as soon as my hands close around him.
“Now suck it,” he says, the low, gravelly quality of his voice in full effect. “I want you choking on it.”
I glare up at him. And I lick just the tip. Then, slowly, I tongue all around the rim. Next, I scoot over on my knees and make sure I’m angled sideways so the men on the couch can see me in perfect profile. I look over at them as I tease the tip of Kennedy’s dick with my tongue, giving all three of them fuck me eyes in turn.
Kennedy’s not the only one with power here.
I’m going to drive him so fucking crazy, he’ll be haunted by my mouth, my pussy, every bit of me for the rest of his goddamn life.
I continue working his cock, deep-throating him and then bobbing up, licking around his crown and taking him deep again. Each time I do, I groan around him to give him a hummer. The first time I do it, he bucks into my throat. Oh yes, that’s right. I peek up at him through my lashes and catch him looking down at me.
And I freeze when our eyes connect. Because damn it, the way he’s looking at me. For the briefest flash, it’s the same worshipful expression he always has when we make love. But then, as if realizing where we are, who we are now, he pulls me off his cock and drags me up off the floor.
He bends me over the side of the couch where he was sitting, my ass out. The next second, he has my underwear pulled down my thighs.
He leans over my back until his mouth is next to my ear. “You want to run? Last chance.” His cock bobs against my ass, just hovering there. He’s not shoving inside, and no matter what I might think of him at the moment, I know he won’t unless I give the go-ahead.
I turn my face slightly, but not so much that I look in his eyes again. Just enough so that when I whisper, “Fuck you,” only he can hear me. Then I reach down between us, grab his long cock, and guide it inside me.



Yeah, I’m the guy from the famous docu-drama Kennedy Benson: A True American Rags to Riches Story. But they only got the sanitized version of the story. You don’t get to be the rich and powerful bastard that I am by being Mr. Nice Guy. No, I got to where I am by ruthlessness and hard work. And I’m still only a princeling of the San Francisco club and hospitality scene. I’m not stopping till I’m king. Nothing will derail my focus.

Until I meet her.

Wanting. It’s always the most dangerous thing. The wanting. The hoping. Dreaming of a better life for me and my brother even when life keeps knocking us down. Meeting Kennedy Benson is nothing I ever could have expected. We’re from completely different worlds. It could never work. Never.

Then why am I so inexplicably drawn to a man who’s completely wrong for me?



Stasia Black is an author who’s drawn to romantic stories that don’t take the easy way out. She wants to see beneath people’s veneer and into their dark places, their twisted motives, and their deepest desires. She likes to toss her characters into the tempest and watch them hurt, fight, bleed, and then find out what, if anything, comes out the other side. Come along for the journey because it’s one helluva ride.

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