Whats Your Pleasure (10 page)

Read Whats Your Pleasure Online

Authors: Marie Haynes

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 

Bad Habit

 

½ oz. vodka

½ oz. peach schnapps

 

Shake with ice, pour into shot glass.

 

 

“So, when will we meet this paragon of virtue?” Eileen Milo probed as she placed a basket of bread on the table.

“Soon, Mom.”
Vincent had dreaded this.
Sunday dinner with the family.
He’d missed it last week since he’d taken Joe to Springfield, but there was no escaping two weeks in a row. At least he’d been able to beg Nathan into coming with him.

“Soon, he says,” Eileen admonished. “He’s thirty years old. When you were his age, Anthony, you had a house, a wife and a child. Does he think time will stand still for him?”

“Now, Eileen, give him a chance. He needs to establish that business of his before he can even consider supporting a wife,” answered Anthony. He glanced at his son and shrugged.

Vincent knew Eileen’s greatest joy was her son, and her greatest disappointment was that he was the only one. She had dreamed of having a large family, a house filled with children. Sadly, after the very difficult birth of Vincent, she had never been able to conceive again. Now, she lived for grandchildren.

“I’m right here, Mom. You can talk to me, you know,” Vincent countered.

Eileen took her place at the end of the table and glared at her son. “I’m just pointing out that you’re not getting any younger. And neither am I, for that matter. I’d just like to live long enough to bounce a grandchild on my knee. That’s all I’m saying.”

Vincent rolled his eyes as he watched his mother blot hers with a napkin.

He glared at Nathan who barely suppressed a giggle. What was it about coming home that turned them both into little boys again?

“Actually, Mrs. Milo,” Nathan began, “I think you’ll really like Joe.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, for starters, she don’t take no crap…uh…I
mean ,
she doesn’t let anyone walk all over her.”

“Well, a woman has to stand up for herself,” Eileen acknowledged. “If she can stand up for herself, she can stand up for her children.”

Suddenly, an idea struck Vincent. Rather than blurt anything out right there at the dinner table, though, he waited, listening as the conversation turned away from his personal life to local gossip.

When dinner was finished, he stood and offered to help his mother with the cleanup. When she demurred, he insisted, telling her she worked too hard and he wanted a little time with her, anyway.

“Since you put it that way, how could a mother refuse?”

When they were in the kitchen, Vincent approached her with his idea.

“Mom, I have a favour to ask,” he began.

Eileen set down her dish cloth and gave her son her full attention.

“Joe has a son, sort of,” he stammered.

“Perhaps we should sit,” Eileen offered.

Vincent grinned. She must have known he’d been perturbed throughout dinner. After all, she couldn’t have raised him without knowing his habits. When he had dropped his fork not once, but twice, she must have known something serious was on his mind.

As he sat across from her at the Formica kitchen table, she held onto his hands.

“Now, tell me all about it,” she encouraged.

Vincent told his mother everything, almost. He told her of first meeting Joe, of falling in love with her, of the fire, of Cain. Carefully, he refrained from mentioning anything about Joe’s surprising submission to him. Eileen remained silent, absorbing all he said.

“So here’s what I was thinking, Mom.
The house on
Russell Avenue
, is it still vacant?”

“Yes, it is. The last renters moved out about two months ago, and we haven’t had anyone interested in it since then,” she answered.

From the expression on her face, he knew she was guessing the direction of his thoughts.

“I know this sounds stupid since I’ve just met Cain and I haven’t really known Joe that long, but I love them, Joe and Cain both. That house is in a good neighbourhood, and Cain could go to St. Michael’s School in the fall. Joe would still be within easy driving distance of the bar, and I could switch her hours around so she could be home with Cain when he gets out of school,” he explained.

“Vincent, I think it’s a wonderful idea, not stupid at all. I know
it’s
fast, but did I ever tell you about how fast your father and I fell in love?”

“No, I don’t think you did,” Vincent admitted.

“We met at a Friday night Fish Fry, and by Sunday afternoon he had asked me to marry him. Whirlwind romances can end badly, my boy, but sometimes,” his mother smiled secretively, “whirlwind romances last forever.”

Coming back to the present, Eileen looked carefully at her son. “Have you mentioned any of this to Joe?”

“I thought I’d surprise her,” he proudly admitted.

Eileen gave him a stunned look before she threw her head back and laughed. “Son, you have no idea what you are in for!”

 

* * * *

 

“Keep your eyes closed, honey,” Vincent said as he guided Joe into the house on
Russell Avenue
. His parents had purchased this place years ago with the idea of reselling it. Just after they’d gotten it fixed up, though, the housing market had crashed, and so they had decided to keep it as rental property. Vincent had always loved its cottage-like feel and had often thought of moving in. But with three bedrooms, a living room, three bathrooms, a dining room and finished basement, it was just too big for one person. He would have felt its emptiness. This was a house which should be filled with noise and people, a family. Now, he might just be able to have all that.

“Okay,” he said, positioning Joe in the centre of the living room, “you can look, now.”

Joe laughed, her eyes slowly opening. Vincent carefully watched her face as she turned in a circle, eyeing the room speculatively.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, but I don’t understand why you brought me here,” she admitted.

“Joe, this is where we’re going to live,” Vince explained quickly. “Look, here’s the master bedroom, the kitchen is in here, and down the stairs is a full, finished basement complete with its own bathroom. Plenty of room for all of Cain’s toys! It’s already furnished, so we won’t even have to worry about buying anything right away.” He dragged her from room to room, pointing out the wonders of each.

 

Suddenly, Joe understood his excitement. She felt the heat rise to her face as first anger then fury overtook her senses.

“Hold on there, Big Guy. You think that you and I and Cain are going to live here?” she asked indignantly.

Vincent blinked in obvious confusion. “Why do you sound mad?”

In exasperation, Joe threw up her hands, barely missing Vince’s head.
“Because I
am
mad, you idiot!
You really expected me to jump up and down and say ‘thank you, kind sir’?”

“Well, yeah, kind of,” Vincent admitted sheepishly, reaching his arms out to hug her.

“Well, guess what?” Joe shouted, pushing him away. “I don’t need you or any other hero in my life. I can take care of myself and of Cain, too. I’ve almost got enough money to start looking for a bigger place so I can move him down here once school gets out. You might be my sexual dominant, but I make my own life decisions.”

“But don’t you see, this is the perfect arrangement for us,” he cajoled.

She poked a finger at his chest. “I make my own arrangements, and I don’t appreciate you taking it for granted that I’d just hop onto your Instant Family Train.” Her anger burned so hot that she barely noticed Vince’s eyes darkening.

“Listen, Joe.” He grabbed her hand. “If you poke me one more time, you’re going to be sorry.”

“Oh, you think so?” she taunted, poking him with her free hand.

“That’s it!” he shouted.

Before she could blink, Vince grasped the back of her head and pulled her against his chest. His head came down on her lips, crushing them beneath his onslaught. Gone was all gentleness. This was a primal, savage kiss designed to intimidate and dominate.

Joe felt her anger melt in the blinding heat of passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moulded her body into his. How could she stay angry with him when she couldn’t even remember her name?

Without removing his lips from hers, Vince tore at her clothing. Joe heard buttons pop and felt fabric rip. She didn’t care. She began clawing at Vince just as earnestly. When he had torn her blouse off of her, he broke the kiss only to drop his head and capture a nipple with his teeth. Joe threw her head back and moaned. The pleasure-pain of his assault on her tender buds had her legs quivering and her juices flowing.

“Fuck me,” she begged.

Suddenly, he released her nipple and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her to the bedroom and dumped her on the bed. Roughly he removed first her shoes then her jeans and panties.

“Not yet, little girl.
First, I need to teach you a lesson. I told you not to poke at me.”

Joe’s eyes widened as he whipped off his belt and folded it in half, slapping the leather against the palm of his hand.

Joe’s mouth watered. “Are you going to use that on me?” she squeaked.

“That was my plan. Seems I need to break you of a bad habit. You got any objections?”

Joe shook her head and gulped. Already her thighs were sticky with anticipation.

Vince reached down and rolled her over. Joe cringed and bit her lip as she heard Vince snap the leather together. She knew this was going to hurt, but damned if she wasn’t trembling with excitement. Without realising what she did, she tensed her ass muscles, bracing herself for the first blow. She heard the sing of leather and felt the bed beneath her jerk. Curiously, she felt no pain, so she glanced over her shoulder at Vincent.

He stood there, his chest heaving, the thick, black belt in his hand,
a
sardonic smile on his face.

“Surprised?” he asked.

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “I thought you were going to…”

“Did I say you could turn around? I’m your Master. I’ll beat your ass or not as my pleasure warrants. Right now, I want you to keep your face to the bed. You are not to look at me. Sometimes I’ll hit the bed, sometimes you.
My choice.
Understand?”

“Yes,” she said as she whipped her head back again. Her senses jumped as he once again snapped the leather and hit the mattress next to her. The third swing of the belt, though, smacked her bottom, and she howled, not so much from pain as from surprise. She knew he had lightened the power behind the stroke that smacked her ass, but still, the sting of the leather brought tears to her eyes and moisture to her pussy.

Over and over again, he tortured her. She never knew if the bed or her ass would be the target for the next swipe, and the disorientation left her breathless. She thought she’d go mad. Finally, she heard him drop the belt and unzip his pants.

Without thinking, she rose on her elbows so she could turn to him. Catching herself, she stopped and quickly dropped back down.

“Not quite quick enough, my naughty submissive. Good thing I brought a few supplies. Stay put. I’ll be right back,” Vincent ordered.

Struggling to control her breathing, Joe luxuriated in the burning sensation of her bottom and wondered what else was in store for her. Soon enough, Vincent came back into the room. She heard a jar open and felt a cool gel between her ass cheeks. Vincent slowly began to rub it down the crack, fingering her rear door.

“Oh my God,” she moaned.

“That’s right.
Time for a little ass fucking.
You ready for this?” he asked.

Joe felt his finger enter her puckered hole and cringed a bit at the tightness. Already her legs had begun to quiver as her excitement built.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted.

“Doesn’t answer my question.
Are you ready to try this?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she cried out. “Yes, please. Just fuck me. Please, please fuck me. Anywhere you want. I need to feel you inside of me.”

Vincent laughed deep in his throat. He continued to push one finger slowly into her dark tunnel. Joe tensed at first, her body readying itself for a sharp pain. When it didn’t come, she relaxed, and Vincent added another finger, stretching her. Joe moaned. Yes, there was a bit of discomfort, but it only added to the spice of the sweet sensations stealing over her.

“That’s it, baby. Just relax,” Vincent encouraged.

“No!” Joe cried out when he pulled his fingers free, feeling bereft without him.

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