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Something Borrowed

Something Borrowed

Just a quick taste of revenge
Ragged skin hung at the edge of her right thumbnail where she chewed it off with imperfect teeth, only to pick at it again. The clock hands revealed that ten minutes remained ‘til the hour, past the point where she could logistically back out. Even if she opened the hotel door and eased out into the hall, the odds were she would only just run into him. She couldn't hide and just not answer the door. He had a key waiting in the lobby. She picked at the cuticle on her right hand, with not quite steady fingers.

She had planned this, initiated it even. There was no need to deny it. In the abstract, it had seemed very attractive, just the thing to distract and get even. Now with reality settling in, she wondered if she was just going to be hurting herself.

Her teeth dug into the soft, yielding flesh of her cheek, giving just enough pain to focus. To ignore the tight squeeze in her core, the iron grip on her lungs and heart.

She deliberately relived the painful images of that day that should have been her best, when she was betrayed by the man who had promised to forsake all others just hours before. She might never have known of his dalliance if she hadn't noticed the text on his phone screen later. Today she would return the favor, in her white clothes, just as he had worn his tux.

The scrap of the card in the key slot at the door was harsh and loud in the still room. She cast her gaze about with wide eyes and muscles tensed to run, looking for a place to hide, while remaining rooted on slender heels to the carpet. She raised her chin and drew in a deep breath. The time for faltering had passed.

The handle twisted down and the door swung in. She looked down through the haze, focusing on the tired shag of the carpet. The door clicked shut.

His rich tenor was self assured. “Hello?”
Carpet muffled the sound of his footfalls


She raised blurry eyes to see him walking across the room, his eyes raking over her body, excitement evident in the quick steps. She nodded. It wasn't her real name, but was close enough without giving her identity away.

His picture hadn't really done him justice. The eyes and hair were dark, but they hadn't caught the spark that glimmered in their golden depths, hinting at quick wit. The image certainly hadn't captured the lithe, cat-like way he moved on the balls of his feet. The nerves that rolled and cramped her gut slowly untwisted and relaxed their hold; her hands stopped trembling as she dropped them to her sides.

“Okay,” it was more question then statement.

Rae-Ann nodded her head, the braided knot of her dark hair dancing. “Good.” Calloused hands caught the edge of his shirt and hauled the dark cotton over his head, revealing work-hardened muscles, not flashy, rather the sort earned through honest sweat. He dropped the polo beside dark leather loafers, pulled the matching belt, springing the buckle, loosening the jeans to hang on bare hips.

Rae-Ann slipped her tongue across dry lips, as she met his eyes. Her heels sunk into to the carpet as she crossed the room to him. Despite the blur from the tulle and lace that draped her face, she didn't miss the sharp breath he caught as she approached, or the way his jeans had twitched. She smiled for the first time, a hesitant thing that lifted the corners of her pink stained lips. He pushed his hand under the folded waist of his jeans and flexed, arm making slow jerks.

She was close enough to touch him, softly grazing across his chest, over the flat bone at the center, then on to trace the prominence of the collarbones. His free hand was on her shoulder now, urging her down, but Rae-Ann ignored it, continuing her fingertip outline.

His fingers dug into her shoulders and her vision rippled. This was a demand, not a request; she pushed back against it, resisting, unafraid. She was here at her own arrangement, and had his assurance that things would halt if she merely spoke the word.

The insistent hand exerted more pressure, compelling her to drop in front of the growing bulge in his jeans. Her hands latched onto the folds of cloth at his hips, pulling on them as she sank down, teetering on those white heels.

The denim hooked on his flank and tugged him forward so the fabric brushed her lips. Her fingers, still clenched to the cloth, pushed them down his legs, dusky red head bouncing out at her, to be caught by his grasp again. The downward pressure released from her shoulder, as her knees touched the floor, folds of her dress billowed around her.

Those fingers now grazed the edges of her vision, lifting the veil up and away from her face, casting it back over her head and clearing her sight while his fisted hand rubbed her lips with his cock. She pursed her lips in stubborn refusal of the request, torn mind rebelling against her actions. The taut skin tapped at her clamped lips, knocking against them,demanding admittance. Her continued grasp on his jeans gave the leverage to rock back away from him, knees clearing the carpet.

He released the lace and snatched her carefully arranged knot, to drag her head back. His heavy hand tugged her hair, sharp bites of pain, pushing her resisting lips onto the knob of his cock, forcing it between the tightened grimace, past bared teeth, to fill her mouth with the smooth iron, plundering her wet maw.

She tightened her grip on the denim and sucked in, mouth pulling to create friction. Anger filled her as she worked her tongue across him, drawing his intruding member deeper into her, her jaw working.

She nursed him hard, sucking with force and determination. Her mouth worked up and down, pursed lips hard around his cock, satin skins rubbing together. Stray droplets of spittle ran down her chin, as she raised mascaraed eyes to his. Tight fingers in the knot of her braids, plunged her head down, forcing the cock farther back, till her chest heaved and eyes swam. Gulping air in with short gasps that released the grip of her lips on the intruding member, she worked up her strokes, panting at the bottom then dragging lips and mouth back to the top.

The rhythm built as the background faded: the carpet pressing her stockings into her knees, the tickle of crinoline bustle against her hip, the slick feel of her dampening satin thong, and the itch of the lace sleeves. None of these things mattered anymore. There was just this cock, in her mouth, pushing its way in, not asking, trying to force her will.

“Submit,” it demanded of her. But she pressed back her resistance, fighting back with mouth, with tongue, even with lip covered teeth, accepting the cock in her mouth, but only on her terms. Her fingers twisted in his jeans for leverage.

His face was tight now, just like the muscles in his legs. He was so close, and she would win. She would take what she wanted, triumphant. But he tightened his hold on her hair, denying her further access. Pulling her away, he raised her up and kissed her roughly, coarse hair on his chin scraping her skin. She sucked his lip into her mouth and pressed her teeth into the soft flesh.


Rae-Ann laughed, a tight, bitter sound, as he pushed her back on the bed, white satin billowing around her in a froth. He kicked off the loafers and jeans before pushing her legs up ,pulling her thong aside, and plunging deep into her. Blue ribbon from her garter peeked out from the layers, encircling her white-stocking-ed leg above her knee as the dress spilled off the edge of the bed, to puddle on the floor around his feet.

Rough fingers pushed along the line of her slit, the satin against her skin, building friction across her bud. She twisted in the dress, rocking her hips, body rolling, seeking greater leverage, pushing against his ravaging cock. Her pink lips parted, baring the white, chipped teeth, with a hiss that turned to cry as she reached her summit. Half rising, her muscles clenched then went slack, with her release.

His hand grasped her neck pulling her deep onto his cock as his frenzied rhythm changed. Filling her with his strange spunk, before he would disappear from her life.

She still loved the man whose ring she bore, but she would be even. Soiled panties and lace packed up to sit in a box on a shelf, a balance for a score now settled.

Only available on Lush Stories. If viewed anywhere else, it has been stolen by a thief who deserves to be left with an empty roll of toilet paper after Taco Bell.
My thanks to Mazza for her proofreading assistance.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © ©2011 All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author.

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