The Taming of Jessica

THE TAMING OF JESSICA

An Erotic Novel
Elizabeth Coldwell

Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2013

ISBN 9781908766267

Copyright © Elizabeth Coldwell 2013

The right of Elizabeth Coldwell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

Chapter One

The coat check boy slammed Jessica up against the wall of the cloakroom, already fumbling to release his cock from his tight-fitting black uniform trousers.

‘That’s it,’ she purred as his mouth mashed wetly against the side of her neck. ‘That’s the spot.’

She’d known the moment she’d walked into the club the evening would end like this, with this eager stud about to plunge himself deep into her wet pussy. Jessica always marked out her prey when she arrived. After that, it was a simple matter of claiming him as her own.

All the staff at Envied were drop-dead gorgeous. It was clearly part of the recruitment policy. From the bar tenders to the waitresses to the girls who gyrated in cages suspended from the low ceiling, any of them could have graced the cover of a fashion magazine. But the coat check boy was the one she wanted. Six foot of solid, muscular man-candy, broad shoulders and gym-honed biceps shown off to perfection in the tight black T-shirt he wore. His body on its own would have been enough to make her inner cougar sit up and growl, but it came in combination with a face she couldn’t drag her gaze from. Despite the dusting of stubble on his soft, pink cheeks that, she suspected, he affected to make him look more roguish, he couldn’t have been any older than 20, with long-lashed blue eyes and artfully tousled blond hair. His lips were set in a permanent pout, designed to be kissed. If he’d been born 600 years earlier, Michelangelo would have immortalised him in marble. Jessica itched to learn whether he had the kind of long, thick cock that, as far as she was concerned, would complete the perfect package.

She’d had his attention from the moment she’d shrugged off her coat to leave in the cloakroom for safe keeping while she danced. With sex in mind, she’d dressed for maximum exposure. Her gold, sequinned top was held in place by only the thinnest of halter straps, the neckline plunging down as far as her waist. At the age of 41, her breasts might be a little softer and rounder than they’d been in her 20s, but still she had no need for a bra. Unlike most of her contemporaries, she’d had no need to resort to cosmetic augmentation to keep her figure pert – or provide a boost in cup size for a husband who wanted two overflowing handfuls to play with. They might not have been the biggest but Max had always loved her tits just the way they were.

If her top was skimpy, her skirt verged on the indecent. With a hemline finishing just below the bottom curve of her bum cheeks, it offered anyone who cared to look a clear view up to her pussy whenever she climbed stairs or bent over a little carelessly. Her panties – ivory silk, with pearls stitched into the thong back – were part of the lingerie set that had been a present from Max last Valentine’s Day. Funny how Max was always forefront in her mind on those occasions when she chose to go looking for hot young flesh.

Strutting through the club on her three-inch spike heels, she’d had no shortage of men wanting to buy her drinks or dance with her. None of them held her attention for longer than a moment; she’d already decided the coat check boy would be hers, and she waved their offers away politely.

The dance floor was packed, weekend revellers moving as one to the relentless beat. She weaved her way through to the centre of the crowd, losing herself in the music, enjoying the feeling of simply letting her body move. She knew she’d be attracting even more attention as she whipped her head from side to side, long, blonde hair swishing in time to her movements, hips circling in a rhythm designed to mimic sex. It felt good to have so many anonymous, voyeuristic eyes on her as she danced, letting them look but not touch.

Sometimes, however, she allowed them to go a little further. She remembered a night, in the height of summer, when the heat had driven almost every other clubber to wear as little as she did. Her dress, made from white stretch lace, had quickly grown drenched with sweat to the point where it became virtually transparent. The atmosphere in Envied had been thick with lust and pheromones, and it had been no surprise when some man, whose face she never saw, came up behind her and started grinding his crotch against her backside. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading them and thumbing the nipples. She’d felt his cock slip into the crack between her cheeks, thick and hot even through the layers of fabric separating them. The sensation of it nudging at the puckered opening of her arse stimulated thoughts of him fucking her there, and her knees buckled at the notion. Not that she’d allow such a liberty to a complete stranger, but it aroused her to think of him unzipping himself and letting the blunt, wet head of his cock press deep inside her arse.

It didn’t seem to matter that people were watching them, as he rucked up her dress almost to her armpits so his fingers could clamp round her bare tits. She hadn’t bothered with underwear that night, wanting to feel what little breeze there was against her naked pussy. Almost unable to believe she’d let the man expose her in this way, she felt her pussy gush with juice, turned on by being as good as naked in front of the watching dancers. Dizzy with lust, she almost begged him to fuck her where they stood, oblivious to the greedy gaze of their audience. Only a sudden strangled groan from the man, and the feel of his body abruptly pulling away from hers, stopped her as she realised he must have come in his pants. Tugging her dress back down, she’d rushed to the ladies’ room, locked herself in a vacant cubicle and frigged herself to orgasm, two fingers of one hand buried deep in her hole as she strummed her clit.

Memories of those strange hands on her body, the feeling of being displayed to the crowd, only served to further stoke her lust, which had been on a permanent boil since she’d first clapped eyes on the coat check boy. Unable to wait a moment longer, responding solely to her urgent need to be fucked, Jessica had made her way back to the cloakroom.

She’d been in luck. He was in there alone. By now, they’d be turning people away at the door, the club packed to capacity, and until dancers started arriving to collect their coats and go home, there’d be little chance of anyone walking in on them.

He’d smiled at her approach. She hadn’t even needed to say a word, or hand over the numbered ticket that would assure the safe return of her coat. ‘The white faux mink, am I right?’ he’d said, already turning to fetch it from the rail.

‘That’s right,’ she’d purred, impressed by his little feat of memory, ‘but I haven’t come for my coat. I’ve come for you.’

Her Adonis had glanced at her, trying to gauge if she was joking.

‘I haven’t been able to think about anyone else since the moment I walked in here tonight. I need you to fuck me, if you’re man enough?’

Challenge thrown down, she waited for him to respond. He didn’t disappoint her. Stepping out from behind the counter, he wrapped a nicely muscled arm around her. Their mouths met in a greedy kiss, Jessica relishing the feel of his full lips against her own. Her chosen studs didn’t need to be good kissers for her to have a good time, but it was always a bonus if they, knew just how much tongue to use, and when to switch their attention to the sensitive spot at the hollow of her throat, nipping and teasing. This guy – and not only had she no clue as to his name, she didn’t care to learn it – certainly did.

As he continued to kiss her, he unzipped his fly, reaching to free his cock. Already thick and swollen, he gripped it at the base, running his fist up and down its length as he regarded Jessica with the look of a man who couldn’t quite believe his luck was in.

‘Allow me,’ Jessica said, replacing his hand with hers. Nothing felt nicer than to have a hard young cock in her grasp, exploring its contours, anticipating the moment when it would fill her pussy to the brim. Juice soaked her inadequate panties, and her pussy flushed with urgent heat.

Shoving a hand up her skirt without ceremony, the coat check boy pulled her panties down as far as her knees. His hand cupped the mound of her sex, and his thumb sought her clit, rolling the slippery bud in rapid circles.

‘Ah, God, that’s good,’ Jessica moaned, the aura of control she’d displayed to this point dissolving under the lad’s frantic touch. ‘But I need to be fucked.’

‘Your wish is my command.’ Her lover spun her round so she faced the wall. Jessica braced herself with flat palms as he undid the neck bow holding her halter top in place, the shiny gold material falling down to bare her breasts. Another tug at her panties, and they were gone entirely.

She shivered at the thought of what was to come, but before he could fuck her, she had a request she simply wouldn’t let him disregard. ‘Condom. In my bag.’

Her clutch bag lay forgotten on the counter, barely big enough to contain the essentials she needed for her night out: phone, purse, lipstick, and a couple of condoms. Looking back over her shoulder, she watched him hunt in the bag, pull out one of the foil packets, and rip it open with abandon. Funny how some risks weren’t worth taking, she thought, given that she so routinely placed everything else in jeopardy with her clubbing adventures.

With the condom in place, everything else was just a matter of time. He crossed the room back to her with half a dozen quick strides, and pulled her body hard against his groin. Splaying her pussy lips open with one hand, he used the other to guide his cock into her wet channel. A couple of hard shoves buried him as deep as he would go, Jessica crying out at the deliciously ruthless penetration. Surely someone wouldn’t fail to hear the noise they made, and come to investigate?

A bassline throbbed in the distance, its muffled beat naggingly familiar and at the perfect tempo for sex. Almost unconsciously, it seemed, the coat check boy moved in time to the rhythm, hips thrusting back and forth, the rough serge of his trousers rubbing against Jessica’s flesh. This was exactly how she liked it: hard and fast, with no emotion to cloud the moment. When this was over, they’d go their separate ways with no regrets. Maybe he’d brag to his friends about the older woman he’d fucked at the club, and the little trick she’d used on him that no one else had: reaching down and rubbing the thin ridge between his balls as he got closer to coming, before slipping that same finger between her own thighs to play with her clit.

If they’d had the twin luxuries of time and a comfortable bed, she could have shown him plenty more of the same, but now her muscles were tensing and his breathing was growing harsher, his strokes so rough and powerful they threatened to knock her right out of her heels. He might have the face of an angel, but his technique and appetite were those of a horny demon. It was Jessica’s last thought before her world dissolved in orgasm. With a grunt, her lover announced that he was coming, gripping her tight as his cock pulsed within her.

‘Well, that was fun,’ Jessica murmured, as they separated. His only reply was to shake his head, as if in disbelief. Encounters like this clearly didn’t happen to guys like him – or so he must have thought before tonight.

Top securely tied in place, Jessica made sure to retrieve her discarded panties, stuffing them into her bag. In other circumstances, she might have let the coat check boy keep them as a souvenir, but they were one of Max’s favourite pairs, and he’d surely notice if they went missing.

She was relieved to see her lover didn’t make any attempt to ask for her phone number, or enquire whether he’d see her again. Letting a man know she wasn’t coming back for seconds could so easily bruise his ego.

‘Oh, just one last thing,’ she said. He regarded her quizzically. ‘My coat?’

‘Of course,’ he replied with a laugh, fetching it from the rack. Jessica slipped it on, blowing the coat check boy a kiss before leaving.

Someone pushed open the swing doors that led through to the body of the club. A blast of music hit her, but she had no desire to return to the dance floor. She’d got what she’d come for, as the pleasurable ache in her pussy testified, and now all she wanted to do was go home and enjoy a long, hot bath before bed. Max wasn’t due back from his business meeting in Milan until tomorrow lunchtime. Plenty of time for her to sleep off tonight’s exertions.

Stepping out on to the pavement, she looked along the street in the hope of spotting a passing black cab.

‘Need a ride home?’ a voice asked at her ear.

Startled, she turned to see Max, looking elegant in a single-breasted black business suit. He must have caught an earlier flight without letting her know. Maybe he’d tried; she hadn’t checked her phone, knowing she couldn’t receive a signal inside Envied, and even if she could, it was impossible to talk over the volume of the music.

He didn’t greet her with a smile, as she might have expected. Instead, his dark eyes were clouded, mouth set in a grim line.

‘Max, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Milan.’

‘We concluded our business early. I tried you at the house, and on your mobile, and I couldn’t get an answer. Then I got a call from Phillip Moore, of all people, to say he’d seen you in Envied, wearing a skirt that barely covered your arse, acting like a complete tart. How do you think a man feels when he hears someone say that about his wife?’

She noticed Max didn’t stop to wonder what one of his closest business associates was doing in a club like Envied. She doubted Moore had been in there with his wife. But it seemed no one looked twice if a middle-aged man disported himself in public with a girl half his age. People could be such hypocrites.

‘I just came out to have a good time,’ Jessica retorted. ‘Surely you want me to keep myself occupied while you’re away? I get so lonely when you’re not around …’

‘Look, Jessica, we’ll discuss this at home,’ Max said, aware their raised voices were attracting the attention of passers-by. ‘For now, I want you to stop making a spectacle of yourself and get in the car.’

He gestured to where his silver Bentley waited by the kerb. Mickey Bryce, the man he employed as his driver and errand boy, sat in the driver’s seat.

‘But Max –’ Jessica began.

‘But nothing.’ She’d never heard him address her in such a dominant tone before, almost defying her to argue with him. ‘Now do as you’re told, or there’ll be consequences.’