My Prerogative Read online

  I kicked him in the chest softly. “All the way back.” I wanted him fully exposed to me, and to my watcher across the street.

  Bracing his hands on the floor behind him, he leaned back, his cock thrusting up from the nest of blond curls. I made him watch, his eyes following me as I rolled one stocking down my leg, then the other.

  When my feet were bare, I scraped my toes over his thighs, a thrill zipping through me when he shuddered at the light touch. I pressed harder, and he moaned. I nudged his warm balls with my toes and cupped his hot cock between my feet, and he whimpered, firing up my blood.

  Randy’s eyes closed, his head fell back, and his hips arched into my caress. I held my feet tight to him, pressing them in a way that had his cock thrust between the arches. “Make yourself come,” I ordered.

  Without hesitation, he began to pump his hips, his cock thrusting back and forth between my feet. Heat built up, and fluid eased out from the head. His panting breath was music to my ears, his whimpers and groans making my heart throb and my pussy clench. “Come, Randy. I want to see your cock jerk and come cover my feet.”

  With a final thrust of his hips his cock throbbed and twitched, come jumping from the tip as I pressed my feet together, squeezing him.

  His chest rising and falling slowly as he caught his breath, Randy stayed exactly in the position I’d put him in. Until I lifted my feet and spoke. “Into the bathroom now,” I ordered. “Get a damp towel and clean my feet.”

  He started to stand, but one look in my eyes and he started toward the washroom on his hands and knees, while I enjoyed the view of his tight buttocks and pondered how pretty they would look, pink from a nice spanking.

  I wasn’t a real Domme, but playing at one had its advantages.

  Three hours later I was just getting into the West Wing marathon on cable TV when my phone rang. The late summer sun had set and my popcorn bowl had long since been empty so I got up from the sofa, and grabbed it on my way to the bedroom.

  “Hello,” I said without looking at the caller ID.

  “Why do you always send them away?”

  His voice sent a delicious shiver down my spine, and I smiled.

  I’d been tempted to call him earlier and ask him if he’d liked the show, but I wasn’t ready to let him know I’d been thinking about him. “Once we’ve both gotten what we wanted, why should they stay?”

  “And you’re sure you’re getting what you want?”

  “From my strangers? Yes.” I crawled into bed, pulling the sheet up to my chin and snuggling down.

  “What about what you need?” His voice had lowered.

  “I’m getting exactly what I need.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Oh really? You think you know what I need?”

  He chuckled. “I think I’m learning, yes.”

  Cocooned in the darkness, with only his voice and his words for company, I felt strangely safe. “And what is it that you think I need?”

  “A firm hand, an open mind, a hard cock, and a loving heart.”

  My breath caught. I don’t know what I’d expected him to say, but I hadn’t expected that. It was too close to what I dreamt about in my heart of hearts.

  “What about you?” I asked, changing the subject. “What do you need?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to share that with you just yet, Kelsey.”

  “Yet?”

  There was a pause and I held my breath, eyes closed as I pictured him in my mind, framed by the windowsill as he looked into my apartment, into my soul.

  “Yes, Kelsey,” he said. His voice had dropped an octave, becoming rougher with his own emotion. “Yet.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sweet dreams,” he said softly.

  “I prefer my not-so-sweet dreams, thank you,” I said, getting over my surprise and snapping back to my sassy self. “They’re so much more fun.”

  His deep laugh echoed in my ears even after I’d hung up the phone and cuddled up to my extra pillow.

  14

  I was late. I fucking hated being late. Especially when I was meeting my mom.

  Plus, it was Monday. And Monday mornings were just obnoxious, no matter what I was doing.

  “Sorry I’m late, Mom,” I said as I rushed into the restaurant and gave her a hug.

  Charlotte Howard was nothing if not gracious, even to her daughters. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you to be on time so I brought my wedding planner with me and I got quite a bit of work done while I was waiting for you.” She was also the queen of the subtle guilt trip.

  “Well, Mom, you know I work late nights and that I’ll never be a morning person, so why did you want to have lunch at eleven? Who has lunch at eleven instead of twelve anyway?”

  “I have another appointment at noon, with the florist for your sister.”

  “Of course,” I said. “How are the plans going? Everything going to be ready in time?”

  The waitress came and took our orders, smiling pleasantly when my mother told her to rush the order because I’d been late and now she was in a hurry.

  “The plans are going very smooth. Lena is in charge of the bride’s party and she would like if you could call her.”

  I sat there and tried not to fidget too much as she went on about the wedding plans. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mom, and she loves me. I know she does. It’s just that she’s a complete girly-girl when it comes to romance, and the fact that one of her daughters was about to get married was putting her into hyper-drive.

  And all the talk of weddings and family and toasts was starting to give me hives. When the waitress arrived with my smoothie, I took a big drink and my muscles relaxed just a bit.

  My mom saw my slushy drink and the frilly garnish and frowned. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be drinking so early in the day. Didn’t you say you just woke up?”

  “It’s a smoothie, Mom. Made with yogurt and frozen fruit.” And a shot of vodka for added flavor. Really.

  Mom reached for her planner and started showing me pictures of the church, the hall, the cake design. When the waitress brought our meals and she was forced to put away the pictures she finally brought up her real reason for asking me to lunch.

  “So what have you gotten Ariel and Miles for a gift?”

  I bit into my pizza and used chewing time to think of something good. But I came up blank. “I don’t know yet, Mom, but I still have a few weeks so I’m sure I’ll find something.”

  Mom reached into her planner and handed me a typed-up list. “These are the stores they’re registered at. You can go online and pick something.”

  I made a face and my mom frowned. “Kelsey, this is about your sister and her soon-to-be husband, not about your need to always be different.”

  “I don’t always need to be different!”

  She waved my comment aside and pointed her fork at me. “Don’t get them gift certificates for matching tattoos or anything like that. Your sister is much more conservative than you.”

  Gift certificates for matching tattoos. That was a good idea. Or piercings. They could get funky and no one need ever know. Ariel was just adventurous enough that that might appeal to her, but I didn’t know my soon-to-be brother-in-law well enough to guess what he’d think.

  “Kelsey.”

  I faced my mom and tried to look innocent. “What?”

  She laughed and I grinned. “That was a good idea, Mom. Maybe I’ll get you and Dad the gift certificates for Christmas.”

  “Who’s to say we haven’t beat you to it? You think you’re the only one in the family with a bit of a wild side?” she said with a wink.

  The funny thing is, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn my parents had matching tattoos. Both of them had a wicked sense of humor, even if Mom was too conscious of image and propriety to admit it.

  We finished eating shortly after that and Mom rushed off to her meeting with the florist and I headed to the mall and the first store
on the list she’d given me.

  15

  The shopping was hell. I couldn’t find anything even remotely unique. My mom was right, sort of. While I didn’t always have to be different, I did want to get my sister something special for her wedding, and somehow I just didn’t think a toaster—even if it did cost eighty dollars—was special.

  Frustrated with the whole thing, I swung by Dee’s pub on the way home. She wasn’t around when I walked in so I perched on a stool at the bar and ordered a beer.

  Micky’s was supposed to be an Irish pub, but it didn’t resemble any of the pubs I’d been to in Ireland. It was all rich dark wood and high-back booths with shamrock green lampshades hanging over them. There was a dartboard in the back and a dozen different types of drafts lined up along the wood.

  It was nice, but when I was in Ireland all the pubs I’d been in were slightly worse for wear, loud with either sports on the telly or live music. And they had only Guinness or cider on tap.

  I’d met Jesse right outside a pub that I’d gone to for the music.

  “Kelsey,” Dee cried, tearing me away from my memories before they could get a good hold of me.

  “Hey woman,” I said when she joined me at the bar. “How you doing?”

  “Good. What are you doing out and about this afternoon?”

  I told her about lunch with my mom, and my subsequent efforts at gift shopping. “What was your favorite gift when you and Jason were married?” I asked.

  “Honestly?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Jason’s sister gave us a scrapbook she’d made full of pictures of us together. She must’ve tracked down everyone we knew because there were pictures in there from parties and things that I’d never seen before. I know it’s sort of cheesy, but everything is digital these days. Computer slide shows and wedding videos and all that. The scrapbook had a great personal touch, and it’s one of a kind.”

  I remembered Jason’s sister calling me for pictures. I hadn’t even asked what they were for; I’d just handed over some copies of my favorites of Dee, and what few I had of them both. It was a good idea, but . . . “Scrapbooking is so not my thing.”

  Dee laughed. “I’m sure you’ll think of something unique. You always do.”

  She hugged me and went back to work. I sipped my beer and contemplated the whole wedding gift thing. I enjoyed dabbling in art, but crafts were not my thing. I always ended up gluing strands of my hair together or something equally idiotic.

  “Wow, you look great in that outfit, but it would look even better on the floor of my bedroom.”

  I turned my head and stared at the guy who’d just sat on the stool next to me.

  Shaggy blond hair that fell over one of his big brown doe eyes, and his lips that looked softer than a girl’s as they spread into a cocky smirk. Mind you, the lips were the only soft thing on him. My gaze drifted down his hard body and images of riding him like a bucking bronco gave me a hot flash.

  Young, dumb, and full of come. A silly saying, for sure, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind.

  “Excuse me?”

  He laughed. “Sorry about the cheesy pick-up line, but it did get your attention. Can I buy you a drink?”

  The eagerness in his eyes had a certain appeal, and an afternoon of naked fun and games with a young eager stud would’ve appealed to me at any other time. But the earlier thoughts of Jesse and our connection that night in Dublin had brought thoughts of Harlan to mind. I’d yet to meet him, but the idea of dabbling with the young boy toy couldn’t match the spark of excitement just thinking about my watcher caused.

  A lightbulb went on in my mind and the spark turned into a bonfire. Hot blood swept through my body, pooling between my thighs. Right then and there I felt my pussy lips thicken and my juices start to flow. If my watcher had been nearby, I would’ve thoroughly enjoyed a little tryst with the young blond.

  But Harlan wasn’t around, and that made me feel strangely let down. That, however, didn’t mean I couldn’t give said boy toy something to think about the next time he jerked off. After all, he’d tried. It wasn’t his fault I was craving something more than he could offer.

  I finished my beer and set the empty glass on the bar before turning to him. Behind him, I could see Dee standing in the doorway to her office, watching us. Leaning in real close, so that my breath feathered the curls over his ear, I whispered, “I’m sorry to say it’s not a good time for me. Otherwise I’d be happy to take you home, tie you to my bed, and ride you hard for the next twenty-four hours.”

  I patted him on his tight little ass and slid off my bar stool. Feeling powerful and sexy, I headed out of the pub, his sputtered requests for my phone number echoing behind me.

  Ariel say’s you’re the go-to girl for all things naughty and wild,” Lena said when I called her from the bar that night.

  I laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, as you know, I’m in charge of your sister’s bachelorette party, and I want it to be fun and sexy without being tacky. You know what I mean?”

  “Right. No drinking from penis cups or balloons taped to her shirt that say ‘Poke me while I’m still single.’ ”

  There was a snort and gurgle on the other end of the phone before Lena laughed. “Cripes! Next time I’ll know better than to drink while I’m talking to you. Pop is not meant to go up my nose!”

  “Sorry.” I bit my lip. Ariel and her friends were no innocents, but I’d have to remember not to be so frank with them.

  Lena’s husky chuckle echoed over the phone line. “No worries. You summed up exactly what I was talking about. I have some ideas for fun things, like I’ve hired a psychic to come in and offer readings for the girls, but I’m, um, having trouble with the sexy aspect of it all. Plus, I was hoping you could maybe get us a deal on the private room at Risqué since you work there?”

  “Do you have a firm date for the party?”

  “Two weeks from this Saturday. The week before the wedding. And did your mom tell you she wants to be at the party?”

  The worry in Lena’s voice made me laugh. “No, she didn’t. But I wouldn’t worry about it. My mom might be a bit of a snob about education and career, but she’s pretty relaxed at parties. I doubt she’ll stay for the whole thing anyway.”

  I did some quick mental math and told Lena I’d look into booking the private room. Ideas started swirling and I mentioned the caterer who’d worked Samair’s fashion show earlier that year. Ambrosia specialized in naughty but tastefully done events of any size.

  “Oh, that sounds good,” she said.

  When Lena started asking if there should be a stripper or gift bags for the guests I had to roll my eyes. A small line was starting to form in front of John, the other bartender, and I had to get back to work.

  “Listen,” I finally said, “you’re helping Ariel with a bunch of other stuff, right? Why don’t you let me handle the details of the party?”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure. Not the guest list. You handle that part because I really don’t know any of your friends. But I’ll book the room and figure out the entertainment and stuff. Sound good?”

  “It sounds wonderful, Kelsey. Thank you!”

  We said a quick good-bye and I went to work beside John. I’d talk to Val later about the room and a few other ideas I had.

  Booking the private room at Risqué was no problem, and Val, good guy that he was, let me have it for free. Which gave me a bigger budget for the actual party.

  “You’re such a sweetheart,” I said as I gave him a hug.

  “Brat,” he said lovingly as he smacked me on the butt lightly and pushed me out the door at the end of the night. “Don’t let that get around.”

  I shoved the caterer’s phone number in my purse and climbed in my car. During the drive home I came up with all sorts of naughty things to do at a bachelorette party and I had to keep reminding myself that this was for my sister, and not me.


  It was the last weekend in August and Mother Nature was in a mood. I’d rolled out of bed on Sunday morning and gone to the gym only to quit halfway through my workout because it was just too damn hot.

  Hot and humid.

  The pressure built in the atmosphere as the day wore on and the restlessness inside of me matched it. It was one of my days off and my first mistake was that I wasn’t doing anything. I’d tried reading, my favorite way to spend a quiet day, but my mind wouldn’t settle down. Yet, there was nothing special on my mind either. I tried watching a movie, but even Bruce Willis couldn’t hold my attention for long.

  Bored, I picked up the phone and dialed Dee’s number.

  “What are you up to this afternoon?” I asked as soon as she answered.

  “Laundry,” she said with a laugh. “Jason’s watching the footbal game then he’s going to grill us up some steaks. Want to come over for dinner?”

  Yeah, hanging around watching the married couple smile and coo happily at each other was just what I wanted to do. “I don’t think so. Thanks for asking though.”

  We talked about Ariel’s party for a couple of minutes before I hung up. I paced my apartment some more, driving myself just a bit nuts until, finally, I stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes. I concentrated on my heartbeat, breathing in through my nose, then out through my mouth. In . . . out . . . as thunder ripped through the air, echoing the restlessness in my soul.

  A storm was coming.

  Thunder continued to roar and with a loud crack the skies opened up and rain poured down. Jumping from the sofa I went out to my deck and stood in the rain, staring at the still bright sky.

  Within seconds it was over and I stood there, drenched, but feeling somehow cleansed. Feeling Harlan’s eyes on me, I glanced across the street. He was there, watching me through the rain. All week I kept imagining that someone was watching me, even at work—looking at every guy who was six feet or taller with dark hair and wondering if it was him.

  I stared back at the image in the window, the sudden twinge of awareness in my sex making it clear that simply putting on a show long distance for this guy was not enough anymore. I wanted it up close and personal. I wanted skin to skin, panting breath and screaming orgasms. Spinning on my heel I went inside and reached for the phone.