Tales Of Texas Vampires Part 6

He snorted. I'm always eating when he calls me. h.e.l.l, I can't help it if I have to consume twice as much as anyone else just to keep up my weight.

"What can I do for you, Steve?"

It's usually best to skip small talk with Ethan, which is fine by me. I'm not much of one for polite chit-chat, either.

"My last day with the department is Friday and I'm spending next week with my folks, but I don't have

to be there until Sunday night. Care to do something on Sat.u.r.day night?"

"Sure," he agreed. Then he asked me the question I was afraid of. The one that I'd have to answer because it's always best to tell him the truth, no matter how embarra.s.sing. "Got anything in mind?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering," I stuttered. "I'd like to just feel like a woman. Your woman."

The line went silent. I waited, without a thought of my hot coffee or doughnut.

"Doing anything I want, Stephanie Amanda Darling?" he purred. I broke out into a sweat at the way he

wrapped that drawl around all the syllables of my name. "Just want to be feminine? Got some fantasies

about being submissive? Maybe try some rough stuff?"

"Yeah," I agreed. The heat had moved down my body at his suggestions. Now, more than my brow was damp. "Something like that."

"Okay. Get a room at the Sleepytime Motel for Sat.u.r.day night. I'll pick you up there at eight."

"Fine." I'd never seen a room at the Sleepytime Motel except during a bust. One thing for sure, n.o.body there would blink at anything he wanted to do.

"I'll send you some clothes. Be sure you're wearing those and nothing else when I pick you up." His

voice was harsher now.

"Okay," I managed. I pressed my knees together against my body's response. He'd never ordered me

around before. h.e.l.l, I was usually the one doing that to him and he obviously liked it. I was surprised that I enjoyed him bossing me around because I've never been called meek.

"And Stephanie? Make sure you shave that p.u.s.s.y of yours. My woman doesn't hide anything from me."

I choked on a sip of coffee. Shave? Down there? But even if my mind wasn't sure, my body was

convinced that this was a very good idea. I closed my eyes against another surge of wetness between my legs. I might have to jack off before going back on duty after this break.

"Roger that," I got out, unconsciously using the catch phrase from work.

Ethan laughed.

"See you Sat.u.r.day." He hung up. I sat in my cruiser for a moment and then got out resignedly. I could use the doughnut shop's restroom for some privacy while I dealt with my reactions.

The rest of the week went past in a fairly normal way. At least the events were normal; my mind kept

running off for daydreams about Ethan's plans. I took a lot of teasing for thinking about my next job. The department gave me a great sendoff on Friday night and I managed not to get too drunk. I didn't want to be hung over on Sat.u.r.day.

I checked into the Sleepytime Motel at five on Sat.u.r.day and found a hefty package waiting for me. I took a room at the back; every cop in town knew my Mustang convertible and I didn't want to advertise my presence here.

I opened it as soon as I got into the room, of course. My jaw dropped at the mountain of brown suede that emerged. Leather chaps, fringed leather jacket, cowboy boots. They looked more like working duds than dress-up attire and were beautifully made. I petted them, enjoying the smooth velvety feel, and held them up to see how they'd fit. The jacket reached mid-thigh, longer than most of that style.

Then I started hunting for the rest of my clothes. Even Ethan wouldn't want me to wear just chaps and a jacket, right? I shook everything out three or four times but couldn't find a sc.r.a.p of anything else, not even socks.

I called down to the desk and they swore there was nothing else waiting for me. I even searched the office myself without finding anything. (Well, that's not quite accurate. They were running a heck of a pool on the coming high school football season. I ignored that, since I wasn't a cop at the moment.) Finally, I let myself back into my room and stared at the clothing spread out on the bed. Jacket, chaps, boots. That rig didn't hide anything, except maybe my toes. I cursed my own stupidity at not setting stricter rules when I'd had the chance. Then I shrugged. I was sure that Ethan wouldn't harm me, even when he drank my blood. Besides, my body kept celebrating the possibilities of that clothing.

So I gathered my toiletries together and went into the surprisingly clean bathroom. A long, hot bath did wonders for my frame of mind. After I'd toweled off, I arranged the hand mirrors I'd remembered to bring and started tr.i.m.m.i.n.g my bush with the sharpest pair of barber's scissors I could find. A big dollop of shaving cream followed and then I started to shave. Carefully, of course. Very, very carefully.

The results startled me. I looked naked and felt much more on display than I ever had before, even in the women's showers at the gym or the station. I could feel every breath of air, every little twitch of my thighs. I could also see very clearly exactly what my excitement looked like, my folds deep red and beaded with moisture like an exotic flower.

I looked at my face in the mirror and almost didn't recognize myself. My grandmother was a Cherokee out of Oklahoma and I have something of her look. Well, it was an exotic female I faced, someone I'd never seen before: big brown eyes set slightly aslant, pupils huge and drowsy with l.u.s.t. A hectic flush of color on my cheekbones meant that I didn't need any makeup, not that I usually wore any. My mouth was red and ripe, trembling a little, as if it needed to be kissed.

Then I caught sight of the clock's reflection: seven something. I turned around and cursed; I had less than fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. I put on a little makeup, nothing fancy, just lipstick and mascara, something to celebrate a hot date.

I pulled on the leathers as fast as possible. They fit perfectly, of course; Ethan isn't one to get anything wrong.

That left me with three minutes to see how I looked. The jacket covered me well enough so that I looked like a cowgirl in working clothes. At least while I stood up straight and kept everything in place.

But if the jacket was unb.u.t.toned or removed, then I looked like a s.e.xual toy. The chaps outlined my privates like an engraved invitation. I could see everything I had, especially with the hair gone.

If I bent over, the jacket slid up and out of the way, leaving my b.u.t.t begging for attention.

I bit my lip when I thought of how Ethan might respond to that opportunity.

The doorbell rang while I was still working on ways to stay decent with the jacket. I froze at the sound and took a deep breath. Eight o'clock exactly.

I opened the door immediately, not needing to check who was there. Ethan looked down at me, hazel eyes noting every detail of my appearance.

"Aren't you going to greet me, Stephanie?" he drawled.

I flushed and reached up to do so, the jacket riding up over my hips with the movement. His lips were cool and hard but quickly warmed up. Soon he was doing the kissing and I was moaning into his mouth. Part of my brain knew that his hands were busy on my bare skin under the jacket but most of me didn't care what he did, as long as he kept doing it.

Ethan broke off the kiss finally and I laid my forehead against his chest.

"Unb.u.t.ton the jacket, Stephanie."

I shook my head to clear it and stepped away from him. He came into the room and closed the door, then leaned casually against it. He was dressed in black leather from head to toe, like a tough motorcycle rider. The leathers emphasized his body's perfection and set off his blond good looks perfectly. Their rich smell made my mouth water, as if the sight of him wasn't enough. I suddenly understood a lot more about folks with a leather fetish than I ever had before.

"Stephanie." His voice was sharp and I shook myself into movement. I started to unb.u.t.ton my jacket but hesitated at what it would reveal. I saw the stern look in his eyes; dammit, he didn't look aroused at all. Just forbidding, like exam day from the strictest teacher in high school. I finished unb.u.t.toning it and stopped, instinctively waiting for his next command. I was also nervous as h.e.l.l about stripping off for him.

"Take it off and lay it on the chair."

I obeyed and turned back to face him. I kept my hands firmly at my sides, not letting them stray to cover me. Ethan had always liked my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, inherited from my German grandmother. I knew they'd be too much for my hands to cover, especially if I tried to conceal my crotch.

I closed my eyes and tried to fight back my blush. Undressing just before you jump into bed is one thing. Exposing yourself at the beginning of the evening is quite another. Maybe it would have been easier if I'd broken my old rule and gotten drunk on bourbon.

"Kneel over the bed and spread yourself wide so I can see how well you shaved."

My legs were stiff and uncooperative as I went to the bed, giving him a long glance over my shoulder. I wanted to scream at him to do something, not just look. But I obeyed and waited for the next command.

I didn't hear him move, just felt the first blunt finger trail through my folds. I jerked in surprise and then twitched when he stroked me back and forth, just the way I like it. Slow and steady, not a direct attack on my c.l.i.t. Problem was that my c.l.i.t was more than willing for an immediate a.s.sault. I whimpered and circled my hips, begging for more action.

"Hold still," he snapped. I stopped, lashed by the sharp order, and waited.

"Dammit, Ethan," I started to say.

Two fingers played with me now. I bit my lip at the knowing touch, trying to stay pa.s.sive.

"Nice job of shaving," Ethan remarked. I moaned when his thumb circled my a.s.shole, an attention that I

always enjoyed. I'd even flushed myself out there, hoping to encourage him. I felt the first shimmers of

climax and started to let go of myself in preparation. His hands left me abruptly and I cursed at the interruption. Ethan slapped my a.s.s hard and I jumped. "What the h.e.l.l?"

"Tonight you're my woman, Stephanie. Everything about you is mine, including your o.r.g.a.s.ms. So you don't come until I tell you to. And you never argue about anything I do." His slow drawl was more commanding than a barked order by my former sergeant. My body was still more than willing to play but my brain started wondering what the heck I'd let myself in for.

"Looks like it's time for your first lesson about who's boss."

My treacherous body trembled, obviously willing for any instruction he cared to give.

He sat down beside me and cuffed my a.s.s casually. I jerked at the rough familiarity.

"Get yourself over my lap, Stephanie. It's time for your first spanking."

I stared at him. Spanking? I hadn't had one of those since I was seven. I was sure his idea of a spanking

was different from my father's.

"Stephanie, move your a.s.s." Ethan dealt another, harder slap.

I said something rude about domineering men. He cut that off with a series of rough smacks.

I took the warning and scrambled to drape myself over him. He tugged me a bit until I was settled to suit

him. I could smell his leathers even better from here. They were old and well-worn, rich with the aroma of years of polishing. I could feel the hard ridge under his zipper as it nudged my waist. I closed my eyes, trying not to think about its potential. Ethan's big, rough hands ran over my naked rear end. I soon realized just how well those chaps framed me as he squeezed and fondled every inch of me. I liked the contact, the intimacy of his hands using me as he pleased, the contrast between my soft skin and his calluses.

The first blow caught me by surprise. It fell hard enough to get my attention but not as strong as what he'd dealt before. I swallowed, wondering what he intended.

"I want to see you good and red, Stephanie. Hot enough to melt ice and conscious of any touch."

He dealt a few more slaps in a slow, steady rhythm before stopping to fondle me. I sighed as he rubbed me, working the warmth across my skin.

"And, of course, I'll just keep going as long as I want," he whispered.

The spanking stayed slow for a while, until every part of my b.u.t.t had felt the strength of his hand. Then he started to speed up, smacking me more strongly. I yelped and twisted but always followed his touch. He paused occasionally to fondle me, stroking my folds to encourage the wetness there. He spanked me harder still, between handling me and then probing me with his fingers.

I gasped at the first intrusion and thrust myself against him. Soon I was circling my hips and bucking up at him, whether for spanks or fondling.

Then he stopped. I panted and bit back a curse as I tried to regain control.

"On your knees, Stephanie," Ethan said quietly as he pushed me down between his legs.

I gathered myself together into the position he wanted, trying to ignore my unwilling excitement, and found the fly of his jeans in front of my eyes. I was fiercely glad at how much it bulged.

"Take it."

I promptly unzipped his jeans carefully and sighed at his readiness. Ethan's c.o.c.k was beautiful, especially when it jutted eagerly. I traced a finger from the tiny slit at the top, over the head and down the beautiful branched vein on the thick shaft.

"b.a.l.l.s first."

I took a deep breath. We both knew that I loved going down on him. But this command meant that he wanted a long sensual pleasuring, not a quick rush to the finish. I had to set aside my body's demands for completion in order to obey him.