Dirty Erotic Oneshots, Mistress_ Red [autobiographies to read txt] 📗

look like eagerness to the casual observer, but was in reality just me trying to prevent any cum to touch my dress.

As Isaac got dressed, I brushed my dress in place. I glanced at myself carefully in the mirror to make sure no evidence of what just happened showed. As I was doing so, Isaac simply stood at my side with a nasty little leer that made me shiver.

"This is just the beginning." He was openly gloating, his beefy arm clasped me close to him. "We're gonna be doing a lot more of this for now on."

I didn't know how to respond to this, so I decided to just keep my eyes on the mirror. I knew I should have pushed him away and say more in the way of defiance, and reestablish my love towards James. Instead I wondered how long I would be able to keep this a secret, horrified at the thought of James finding out about what just happened, and may very well continue to happen.

"Don't worry about James," he said with that usual cocky swagger that threw me off. "The boy's an idiot. I didn't lie when I told you I've fucked every single one of his girlfriends and he was never the wiser. He aint the brightest man around. That's for sure."

"What if I get pregnant?" I whimpered at the horror of my situation.

"Doncha worry about that. If I get you pregnant you'll get an abortion and he'll be none the wiser."

I flushed as I was conservative when it came to the issue of abortion. All I could hope for is that he didn't get me pregnant and I could start up taking the pill again. James wanted to have kids but I simply couldn't risk it at this point. No, that would simply have to be another thing I would have to deny to the man I professed to love.

Mercifully he left my side and the room, but not my thoughts.

 

n o n c o n s e n s u a l

 

 

 

Bradley slammed the door to her room and leaned back against it, gasping for air. Shit, shit, shit. She held out her hands -- they were shaking. She couldn't believe she'd just had a screaming match with her employer. For the past two months she and Parker MacKenzie had coexisted peacefully in the large, empty house.

 

She cleaned and looked after the grounds, and he spent all his time in his office working. Occasionally she'd bring him coffee, a tray of food, and once or twice she'd helped him out with some dictation or filing. They'd developed an easy camaraderie, neither feeling the need to speak much. It was the best summer job she'd ever had, quiet and solitary.

Until she'd been cleaning the master bedroom and found the file with her name on it. Puzzled, she'd sat on the bed and opened it. It was like a condensed biography. Every detail of her life, every foster home she'd been in, every school she'd attended, lists of friends and teachers -- everything right down to her favorite foods.

 

Stunned, Bradley simply sat there for several minutes, trying to figure it out. Why on earth would he have a file like this? Then anger, swift and hot, flooded her. She'd never been so angry in her entire life. Clutching the file, she'd gone up to his office, barged in without bothering to knock, and tossed the file on the desk so that the contents spilled all over the place, some of it cascading into his lap.

Parker glanced at her calmly, the phone to his ear. "Let me call you back, Mike." He hung up and sat back, waiting.

Bradley couldn't believe he was so calm, so cool. "What the fuck is this?" she asked, gesturing at the mess of papers.

"This is none of your business."

Bradley stared at him. "My life is none of my business?"

"Bradley, I do background checks on everyone who crosses my threshold. I'm careful."

"You're invasive."

The argument escalated from there, until they were shouting at each other. Bradley had never in her life had a screaming fight with anyone. Ever. But for some inexplicable reason she found her temper boiling over, completely out of control. Finally, some dim corner of her brain still operating on common sense told her it was time to leave. Turning, she'd stormed out of his office, ignoring him as he shouted her name, and run up to her room.

Now what? She had to pack her things. There was no way she could finish out the summer here. Feeling over heated and overwhelmed, she headed for the bathroom.

Bradley bent over the sink and splashed double handfuls of cold water onto her face. The argument had left her flushed, her dark green eyes blazing as though she had a fever. The back of her neck felt hot, and she trickled water over it, hanging her head down, with her thick dark curls shutting out the rest of the room like a curtain. She took deep breaths. She couldn't believe she'd actually shouted at him like that. Her heart was still racing. She sipped at the water. Her throat was tight and aching.

Shit. He'd expect her out first thing in the morning, most likely. She'd have to find a new place to stay and a new job asap. Sighing, Bradley straightened up, placing her palms on the counter, eyes closed, trying to gather her thoughts. She opened her eyes and looked at her reflection -- and over her shoulder she saw Parker, standing in the doorway.

Startled, she froze, and stared mutely as he walked up behind her, his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. Before she could react, he placed his hands over hers on the counter, and she felt him press against her back. She started to pull her hands away, but he pressed firmly down, holding them in place. He was still looking into her eyes in the mirror, and the expression in them made her stomach feel heavy and tingly with unease.

"What are you doing?" she managed, but it came out strained, almost a whisper.

He turned his head and bit her neck.

"Jesus!" Bradley wrenched her arms free and spun around to shove him back. They struggled briefly, and then he had her arms behind her back, forcing her wrists up between her shoulder blades so that she struggled to stay on her toes to ease the pain. He held her wrists with one hand, and with the other he grabbed a fistful of her hair, and kissed her. Bradley writhed, trying to escape his grasp.

"Stop!" she managed to get out.

Parker laughed. "Impossible," he said. "Walk." And he spun her about, wrenching her wrists so that she cried out and staggered. He guided her out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He threw her down onto the bed. She immediately scrambled for the other side, but he caught a fistful of her shirt and hauled her back.

 

She turned to face him, bringing her right elbow up and ramming it into his jaw, and followed it up with a hard left hook. Parker shrugged the blows off. Gathering two fistfuls of her shirt, he ripped it apart and tossed it aside. He fell on top of her, pinning her squirming body to the mattress.

 

They thrashed across it, fighting fiercely. He didn't hit her -- he didn't have to. He was nearly a full foot taller and at least sixty pounds of solid muscle heavier. It was like punching a wall; he never even flinched. In the midst of blocking her wild blows, he somehow managed to unbutton her jeans, and plunged his hand into them.

 

Bradley gave a ragged gasp as his fingers pressed between her thighs, immediately finding her most vulnerable spot. She abruptly stilled, as though if she didn't move he might not either. Their faces were centimeters apart; his dark brown eyes looked into hers with something very akin to amusement as his fingers gently explored her.

"Parker, please stop," Bradley whimpered, pushing in vain at his arms.

Parker laughed softly, kissing her lips gently. "Say that again," he murmured against her mouth.

"Please stop," Bradley said with careful enunciation. Her throat was closing up, threatening tears, and she clenched her jaw in an effort to hold them back.

"Spread your legs."

"No."

"Bradley-"

"Stop!" she shouted, erupting again in a frenzy of kicking and clawing.

Parker rose up on his knees, and bodily lifted her and threw her down on her stomach. He held her down with a hand to the back of her neck and peeled her jeans off as she thrashed and struggled. He removed every last scrap of her clothes, and then one-handed, he yanked his own shirt over his head and pushed his jeans off. He rolled her onto her back again. It was a magnificent fight to pin her down again.

 

She was remarkably strong for a slender thing of only 18 years. Parker had to damn near break her arm before he managed to cover her body with his again. Still she strained so hard that it was like lying on a bucking bronco. Parker wrestled her arms to the mattress, pinned them there. Her breasts, so soft and full, pressed against his chest, and he longed to find out what they felt like in his mouth. But that would have to wait.

"Bradley!"

She shook her head wildly, tears streaming down her face.

"Bradley!" he shouted.

"What!"

"Look at me! Look at me!" Parker waited until her panicked eyes were on his, and then said, "That's it. Just look at me." And he plunged himself into her.

He hadn't expected her to be a virgin.

Bradley screamed. One loud, piercing shriek, and then she bit it off, pressing her face into his neck. Parker held her as she struggled to breathe, waiting for a little of the tension to ease out of her. After a while he tilted her head back and kissed her. Her nails were punching bloody crescents in his biceps.

"I didn't know."

"You didn't ask," she said, her voice trembling.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

He smiled. "No, I'm not." He moved inside her, gently. "Christ you feel good." He positioned himself carefully, and then pressed into her, rotating his hips in a circular motion. He was rewarded by a quick gasp, her eyes widening slightly. He propped himself up on his elbows, her wrists still clasped firmly in his hands, and kept up a steady rhythmic friction against her clit, watching her face intently.

 

She gave an occasional half-hearted struggle, but after a few minutes her writhings were of a different nature. Her eyes grew unfocused, her breath came quicker. She began moving her hips, just a little, to match his rhythm, pressing herself harder