Page 19 of Seasoned
Clive slapped her ass and she gasped. The stinging pleasure pulsed between her legs and all lucid thoughts fled her brain. She would let him do whatever he wanted to her—wanted him to do as he pleased.
“You like that, don’t you? You like it a little rough.” His voice was deep, almost angry with intensity. He slapped her behind again, harder this time, and the sound crashed through the room. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” Renee hissed, tensing as she anticipated another blow.
He spanked her behind again and again, and she took her punishment. It feltso good, being pinned down, totally at his mercy as he spanked her and made her say how much she loved it.
Clive lifted her hips higher, drove harder, and angled his hips deeper. She was so turned on it wouldn’t be long before she came again.
He scraped the side of her neck with the edges of his teeth, and that did it.
She came. Hard. Shuddering. Another cry of pleasure bursting from her lungs, intensified by his refusal to release her wrists, his utter control of her body as he rode her from behind. She damn near hyperventilated, gasping as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over her body.
Clive’s hips pistoned against the cushion of her ass cheeks, and his grunts came faster and louder. Within seconds, he lost control, too and loudly muttered a series of curses before collapsing onto her back.
“Damn,” he said.
9
Clive lay with one arm folded behind his head, eyes traveling around the room, which contained several pieces of white furniture. They included a large dresser, a five-drawer bureau, and a two-drawer table beside the bed with an iPad and a couple of books on top.
She lay on her side, facing away from him. He wasn’t sure if she was sleeping, but she was awfully quiet and hadn’t said a word since their sweat-drenched bodies separated.
Drowsy, his eyes slowly closed. He’d take a quick nap and see if Renee was up for another round in a bit.
“My second husband was white.”
His eyes opened at the sound of her voice, and he turned his head in her direction. “Who was better—me or him?” he asked.
“My ex-husband.”
“Damn.”
Her laughter shook the bed, and when she turned to face him. “I don’t kiss and tell, Clive.”
“Oh, I’m back to being Clive, huh?”
She shrugged, humor in her brown eyes and a contented expression on her face that tightened his chest. Her normally perfectly coiffed hair was in disarray, and she’d sweated out her curls. No matter if the ex was better or not, she was satisfied.
“I have a question,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Were you ever an athlete?”
“I was. My father played football and baseball. I was only ever good at football—started in the peewee league, played all through school and got a scholarship to play in college. The guys that come over to my house every couple of weeks are former teammates from back in college. Hell, we’re brothers at this point, after everything we’ve been through over the years.”
“Your house is the central location where everyone hangs out?”
“Yeah.”
“I have a similar situation with me and my two closest girlfriends. We usually go to Adelaide’s house. She’s the who baked the cookies. I’ve known her and Jackie, my other best friend, for years. I’d do anything for those women.”
“Guess we’re both lucky in that respect.” Clive smoothed her hair back from her cheek. The strands were soft as feathers. She briefly closed her eyes, as if that simple touch brought her pleasure. “What do you do all day, now that you’re out of school?”
“I edit manuscripts for writers. It’s a side gig to make a little extra money, nothing serious. I only work with a few clients each year and don’t advertise. It’s fun and a way to exercise my mind. I get to read interesting stories and shape them in my own little way. One of my clients is Angela Washington. Ever heard of her?”
He shook his head. “I’m not much of a reader.”
