Brit Flick Sweethearts: A Rom-Com With Spanking (11 page)

She left the
tiny spare bedroom and shut the door, praying as she always did
that Jim wouldn’t pry through the documents on the computer looking
for her novel. She deleted her short stories as soon as they were
uploaded but she was always a little anxious when she was half way
through one.

“How’s the
novel coming along love?” Jim asked, handing her a cup of tea when
she joined him in the kitchen.

“Just fine,”
she lied.

Well, not
exactly a lie, she reasoned, her erotic short stories were coming
along just fine. And to her amazement, they were selling really
rather well online. It was just a shame that she had a total mental
block when it came to writing her ‘real’ novel, a light and fluffy
romance.

She felt
another pang of guilt, Jim would go mad if he knew what she was
really writing under the pen name B.J. Cummings.

“So when can I
read the masterpiece then?”

“It’s not ready
yet. As soon as it’s polished you can read it, I promise.”

“You’ve been
saying that for ages, I don’t know why you won’t let me read it.
You’re such a spoilsport.”

Not a
spoilsport. More of a closet slut, she thought.

Just then Jim’s
phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to read it.

“Who’s
that?”

“Mark. Don’t
mind if he comes round tonight do you?”

Rose’s heart
instantly started galloping, but she managed to keep her tone
neutral.

“Sure.”

How could she
tell her husband no? That she had been harbouring a crush on his
older brother since the day she had started dating Jim back in
secondary school fifteen years ago? It had been easier when Mark
had been living in Australia for fourteen of the fifteen years she
had known him, but now he was back, stirring up all those old
teenage emotions.

“I think I
preferred it when he was in Oz, now I can’t get rid of the prick.”
He looked at his watch. “Bloody hell, I’m gonna miss the start of
the match.”

He left her
standing there in the kitchen.

“I might carry
on writing for a bit then, maybe have a shower.”

But her words
fell on deaf ears as he had already left the room.

Back up in the
spare bedroom she switched on the computer. Now where was she? She
blocked out all thoughts of Jim, and Mark, and the distant
hysterical babbling of the football match that drifted up the
stairs of the small terrace. The familiar quiver of anticipation
quickened her heart as she re-joined Daisy in the car park with her
handsome stranger. The handsome stranger that looked so much like
Mark…

“
Get on your
knees,” he said gruffly, pushing down on my shoulders.

I did as I was
told, scraping my knees and shredding my stockings on the
unforgiving ground, taking him into my mouth.

The musky scent
of his cock filled my nostrils and hit the back of my throat. He
was big, pretty much the biggest I’d ever had and it was a struggle
to get him all down. I managed of course, being no stranger to deep
throat and a master in the art of gag reflex control. Even so, I
couldn’t breathe with his balls tickling my chin like that and I
panicked a little every time he grabbed the back of my neck and
give my throat a good hard fucking.

He groaned from
somewhere above me and pulled me off him with a loud, undignified
slurping pop. He hauled me to my feet and roughly spun me around so
my face and bare tits were pressed up against the stone wall.

He pushed my
thighs further apart, exploring my swollen cunt lips and finger
fucking my wet hole. I gasped when he shoved a finger that was
slick with my own arousal into my arsehole. Eagerly I pushed
against his hand, loving this feeling of utter debasement, the pain
both delicious and humiliating, reminding me what a filthy slut I
was.

And then he
pushed his big dick all the way into my tight cunt.

I gasped and
panted my pleasure at the sudden penetration, barely able to catch
my breath as he pounded my arse. He forced me to lean over until I
was practically bent double, my palms bleeding from clutching the
stone wall. I watched my tits jump and swing in time with his
thrusts, my pussy burning with the hard fucking it was getting.

My orgasm was
close, I could feel it building deep inside.

“
Harder,
fuck me harder,” I panted.

To my surprise,
he pulled out. He spun me round so I was facing him. I could feel
his hard cock digging into the bare skin of my waist and
instinctively I reached down to hold it, wanting him inside me
again with everything I had.

He held me by
my neck. For a moment I was convinced he was going to kill me,
right there and then in the middle of the car park. His eyes were
ice cold, the smile tugging his mouth devoid of humour. Maybe even
devoid of humanity. His grip was firm around my windpipe, choking
off my air supply just enough to make my head feel too tight and my
vision blur.

Just when I
thought he really was going to strangle me, he loosened his grip a
little. I gulped down air, my ears ringing so hard I could barely
hear him.

“
Orgasm is
so much more intense when one is on the brink of death, little one.
But you’ll find that out soon enough. Oh, the things I will show
you. You really should be more careful who you go picking up in
bars…”

Rose leaned
back in her chair and stretched her arms. Time was creeping on,
time for a shower.

In the bathroom
she stripped off her clothes and examined herself in the mirror.
I’m no Daisy,
she thought, staring at her reflection.
But
I’m not bad for thirty
. She liked her long legs, and she knew
Jim loved her boobs, even if she didn’t. She thought them too big
at 34DD, and not as pert as smaller boobs, or plastic boobs. She
cupped them in her hands. They were firm though. Her small, pink
nipples puckered between her splayed fingers.

She thought of
Daisy’s body, even though she knew she was being utterly ridiculous
comparing herself to her made up heroine. But she still wished she
looked like her. Daisy had small pert tits, and she was petite with
a curvy butt, unlike Rose who at five foot eight was slender with a
small bottom, despite the oversized chest. How she wished she had
Daisy’s sleek black hair and alabaster skin too, not her own unruly
mop of light brown curls and freckles.

She sighed. Was
any woman totally happy with their appearance, she wondered. Her
hand slipped between her legs. How could any man find that
attractive, she wondered, studying her vagina in the mirror. She
wished her pussy looked more like the perfect snatches of glamour
models. She rubbed at her fleshy inner lips, sending sparks of
pleasure shooting through her groin.

The thought
came unbidden to her mind.
Just a quick one, before Mark gets
here
.

Mark
.
What would he think, if he could see her now? She watched her
reflection in the mirror, imagining that it was Mark watching her.
She watched her forefinger trace lazy circles over her clit,
admiring the way her already wet pussy lips gleamed in the overhead
bathroom light.

Get a grip,
Rose
, she scolded herself.
You’re a married woman.
Fantasising about your husband’s brother is just about as low as it
gets
.

Rose had her
shower, pushing all thoughts of Mark from her mind.

She emerged a
few minutes later wrapped in a big white towel. She had her hand on
the bedroom door and almost jumped ten feet in the air when Jim
spoke to her from the doorway of the spare room.

“Rose. I can’t
believe you would do this.”

“Jesus Jim, you
scared the crap out of me.”

“How could
you?”

“How could I
what?”

Although she
could guess. Jim in the spare room. On the computer.

Oh
shit
.

“I’ve read it,
Rose. I can’t believe you could write something like that. You lied
to me, you told me you were writing a novel. Instead, I find that,
that filth.”

His face was
red and there was spittle on his lips. Rose hadn’t seen him this
mad since that time there was a power cut during the world cup.

“It’s not real
for God’s sake. It’s not me, it’s all made up. And you shouldn’t be
prying through my writing anyway.”

“It was
half-time, I just wanted a quick read while you were in the shower.
And that’s hardly the point now is it? That shit’s got to come from
somewhere. Is it some sick, twisted fantasy you have? Or is it what
you really get up to if you’re out with the girls? Christ Rose, you
make me sick, I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. I’m going
out.”

“Out? Where are
you going? Jim please, let me explain.”

“Good bye Rose.
Don’t wait up.”

She started to
follow him down the stairs, calling uselessly after him.

“Jim! Wait!
Please let me...”

She didn’t get
to finish the sentence. The slamming door did it for her.

“Explain,” she
whispered sadly to herself, slumping on the stairs.

She stayed
crouched on the stairs like that for a good five minutes, her head
in her hands in despair. The ringing doorbell jolted her out of her
reverie.
Shit, Mark
, she thought. And she wasn’t even
dressed. Well, she would just have to open the door as she was,
tell him Jim was out and send him on his merry way.

The sight of
him when she opened the door knocked her breathless, as it always
did. His pale blue eyes widened as he took in the towel, a lazy
smile pulling at his full lips.

“Hello Rose.
Nice to see you dressed for the occasion.”

“Look, I’m
sorry Mark but you can’t come in. Jim’s not here and he won’t be
back ‘til late.”

She went to
shut the door but he had wedged it open with his foot.

“I don’t think
so sweetheart. I was invited, so I’m coming in.”

With those
words he pushed past her and into the hallway. Suddenly she was
even more aware of her near nakedness and wrapped the towel more
tightly around herself. The hallway seemed very small with him in
it.

“Fine,” she
mumbled in defeat, “stick the kettle on then while I throw on some
clothes.”

“Please don’t
bother on my account.”

His tone was
light but his gaze was not. He fixed her to the spot with those
strange, pale, wolfish eyes. She blushed furiously and managed to
tear herself away and up the stairs.

Five minutes
later she returned, dressed in jeans and a simple tight black top.
She found him in the kitchen opening the bottle of red he had
brought.

“So what’s my
silly little brother done?”

“How do you
know he’s done anything?”

“Because I
watched him strop off down the road just now. He didn’t look
happy.”

“You did?” she
asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “Then why didn’t you go after
him?”

“Because I
wanted to make sure you were OK.”

His answer left
her a little breathless and her heart started to race. So she got
defensive.

“How’d you know
he’s done something wrong? You should be siding with your brother,
not me.”

“I know what a
small minded little twerp he can be sometimes. So come on.
Spill.”

“Look, Mark,
this is all very sweet of you, but shouldn’t you be chasing after
Jim?”

“No. He just
sent me a text saying not to bother coming round. He said he had
made other plans.”

“Did he say
what?”

“No. Come on
Rose, talk to me.”

She sighed, and
took a big gulp of red.

‘You really
want to know?”

He nodded.

“Fine, then
I’ll tell you. You know that novel I’m supposedly writing? Well,
it’s not the only thing I’ve been working on. Jim found one of my
other little projects and he hit the roof.”

“Why would he
do that?”

“Because I’m
writing erotica,” I said, slumping in defeat on a chair at the
kitchen table.

“How erotic is
erotic?”

“Very
erotic.”

He smiled at
me, the delight in his eyes obvious.

“You are full
of surprises Rose. I’m impressed. And do you sell any of these
little projects?”

“Yes. God knows
what Jim would say if he knew I almost matched my office wage
selling them as ebooks.”

“That’s
fantastic. Well done.”

“No, I don’t
think that’s what he’d say.”

“It’s what I
say. Jim can’t help being repressed. So can I read one?”

“I suppose you
could read the start of the story Jim found. There’s nothing else,
the rest are published and you’d have to buy them.”

She took him
upstairs to the spare room and sat him down in front of the
stationary computer. The thought of Mark reading about Daisy left
her dizzy with mixed feelings; embarrassment, apprehension, desire…
Would he recognize himself as the man from the bar? Letting him
read it was the same as announcing she wanted him.

He began
reading and she perched on the edge of the single bed clutching her
wine, nervously watching him.

“This is really
good, I had no idea you were so talented,” he said slowly when he
was done. “My my, we do have a dark side don’t we?”

She blushed
furiously.

“They’re just
stories.”

“Longish dark
hair? Icy blue eyes? Hmmm, anyone would think you’re writing about
your brother-in-law.”

“No! Of course
not. Well, anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “Jim’s
furious.”

“He’ll come
round. Besides, he’s too thick to even realise the guy you’re
writing about is me. He’s acting like a kid. Don’t worry about
it.”

“I am not
writing about you,” she spluttered indignantly, her face
beetroot.

“Whatever. What
I want to know is what happens next? It’s pretty dark, what happens
to the girl?”