Chaning Cheyenne Page 14

  He was conquering her with sex, but it was by mutual consent.

  It would be interesting to see how they would get along without it. That would require them to keep their hands off each other, which was no small feat.

  With a little careful maneuvering, Reed managed to sit up and finally stand, lifting Cheyenne into his arms. He laid her gently on the bed, not wanting her to end up with aches and pains from the floor.

  He looked down to see his cock hard.

  All it ever took was one look, one touch.

  He could take her again right now, putting her beneath him, his hands holding hers above her head, his knee moving her legs apart.

  She would awaken with his hard cock inside of her. What expression would she have on her angelic face? Wonder? Surprise, moving quickly to devilish arousal?

  She would begin to move beneath him, picking up the pace. They would end up frenetic, panting.

  Reed had a better idea.

  It wasn't night time, but they still had the balcony.

  Too bad Cheyenne didn't have a nice long negligee like in the dream.

  There was always a sheet, though.

  He sat down on the bed beside her.

  "Wake up, Cheyenne..."

  She stirred in her sleep.

  He bent to kiss her lips. “Darling..."

  Had he really called her that?

  "Mm,” she murmured. “Frankie?"

  Reed felt a flash of lightning through his gut.

  Shouldn't be surprised by that, he told himself. She was in love with Frankie. She barely knows you.

  But she sure as hell will.

  The urge to dominate was almost painful. He could never cause Cheyenne pain or distress, but he was capable of seduction of the darker kind.

  "It's me, Reed."

  She blinked. A smile lit her face. It seemed genuine, but he knew better than to trust it now.

  Not fully.

  "Where are we?” she whispered, looking around. “Weren't we ... on the floor?"

  "I fucked you on all fours, yes. We wrestled, you submitted.” He used the more graphic words possible.

  She lifted her arms to encircle his neck. “You took me,” she said with what appeared to be gratitude.

  "I did what I wanted with you,” he said.

  She looked at him, frowning. “What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. I have something else in mind, that's all."

  "The dream. I'm going to have you on the balcony."

  Her eyes lit up. “In the day time?"

  "Do you object?"

  "Someone could see,” she said. “That's all."

  "Turn over,” said Reed.

  "What?"

  "Turn over,” he repeated.

  Cheyenne moved to comply, exposing her shapely backside.

  Three times without warning he smacked her.

  "What was that for?” she demanded, rubbing the sore spot.

  "You don't question me, Cheyenne."

  "Yeah,” she sat up. “I do. Especially when you start bullying me."

  "I wasn't bullying you. Those were light hits. You had a lot worse at the cabin."

  She pursed her lips. “Maybe so, but this felt different. Something changed since last night."

  He averted his gaze. It figured she would see through him so easily.

  "I'm right,” she said triumphantly. “What is it?"

  "You woke up saying his name,” Reed told her. “You were happy thinking you were with Frankie."

  Pain crossed her face. She reached up to touch his cheek. “Reed, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

  "It's nothing, you weren't even awake."

  "Clearly it isn't nothing. You thought it meant that I don't have any appreciation for you."

  "It doesn't matter,” said Reed, suddenly anxious to cut his losses. “You are grieving the man. That takes time."

  "You aren't a rebound, if that is what you think,” she said.

  "Then what am I?"

  She frowned. “You should know better than to ask that. I'm like you. We are birds of a feather, we don't define things, we fly free. I like your company, I want more of it, and I sure as hell crave your touch. You do things to me no one ever did. I feel ... like a person."

  "If you are hinting at a relationship, that's out of the question,” he said flatly. “We can date, play, have fun, but it won't get past that."

  "Did I say I wanted more?"

  "No,” he admitted. “But you will."

  "That's unfair, Reed. You can't pigeon hole me."

  Reed sighed. “Fair enough. Though I still have doubts you would be able to keep connecting to where my mind goes."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "My mind isn't ... tame, that's why."

  "Neither am I, try me."

  "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

  "I learned from the best."

  "Who's that, me or Rutherford?"

  "Just tell me what you're thinking,” she rasped, rubbing his bare chest. “And we'll do it."

  "I already told you and look where it got us. I want you fucked on that balcony. I want you walking out there, meek as can be, knowing it's not your say so who sees you."

  "That turns you on,” she acknowledged. “It turns me on, too."

  "You resisted,” he reminded.

  She gave a pixie grin. “It's all in the delivery. You have to know how to finesse me, even when I can't finesse myself."

  "Sounds like you're setting me up for failure."

  "I think it's been pretty successful, so far, don't you?” she said suggestively, running her fingers over his erection. “Think about it, all of it. We turned that nightmare cabin trip into a red hot encounter, all because you knew how to get me to let my guard down."

  "What about Frankie?” he asked, unable to resist comparing. “Didn't he do things?"

  "He did,” she acknowledged. “But you're taken me further. I've never been a Mistress before, I can tell you that much."

  He laughed.

  "We'll compromise on the balcony,” he decided.

  Giving her his hand, he helped her to her feet. After letting her take a quick trip to the bathroom, he showed her what he had in mind.

  "Your sheet, Milady."

  She laughed, almost a giggle as he wrapped the silk sheet about her bare shoulders. He kissed her neck a couple of times and then told her to scoot.

  "I'll be out in a minute,” he said, delivering a pat to her bottom, as light as it was sensual.

  "Oo,” she rasped, wiggling her posterior. “You can do it harder than that."

  "You just complained it was too hard."

  "A woman's prerogative is to change her mind,” she said, padding off to the balcony.

  He watched her walk, her hair still lustrous for having been slept on, still gorgeous for having been pulled and twisted. She was indeed a goddess, a sex kitten, a queen rolled into one.

  To keep things fair, he decided to stay naked himself.

  For a few moments he enjoyed the luxury of watching her.

  She had the sheet pulled about her like a toga. She was gazing thoughtfully over the marble railing, watching the small gondolas pass by along with the larger water taxis. The domes were gleaming in the light, the city was coming to life.

  The most beautiful spot on Earth.

  With the exception of whatever spot lay next to Cheyenne at any given moment.

  She raised her back foot, casually turning her ankle. Everything about her was maddening, intoxicating. He could spend a life time memorizing every tiny detail.

  His cock had other ideas, though.

  Boldly, he approached her.

  She gasped as he brought their bodies together, his front to her back. She felt his hard cock, exposed behind the sheet. “You're naked."

  "I'm going to fuck you, Cheyenne."

  She leaned back against him. Her voice was dreamy, she was losing herself in the fantasy. “Here ... like this?"

  "I
don't want to wait and I don't have to."

  "People ... people might see."

  "I like them to look at what I own,” he said, his hands moving in front to cup her breasts through the sheet.

  "Do you ... own me?” she asked, her voice so sweet and soft.

  "You tell me. Are you wet? Are you ready for me, despite your objections? Are you going to deny me what I want?"

  She moaned, rolling all her answers into one.

  "Your breasts first, Cheyenne."

  She placed her hands over his. “Oh, no, must you?"

  "Italian women show their bosoms all the time."

  "I'm not Italian."

  He nibbled at her earlobe. “If you think I won't spank you out here, Cheyenne, you're wrong. Now be a good girl, put your hands down."

  "Yes,” she whispered, her arms falling to her side like a suddenly abandoned marionette.

  Reed tugged the sheet down, the material caressing her nipples.

  "They are erect,” he remarked.

  She thrashed her head. “Yes, what will people think?"

  "They will think you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman obeying her dominant lover."

  She reached for his cock.

  "No, touching,” he chided. “If your hands require something to do you may caress your breasts."

  She gave a little moan, her will thwarted. The tension was good, very good, enough so as to make him want to kick things up a notch.

  "I have a question for you,” he said.

  "Yes?"

  "Have you been taken in the ass before?"

  She drew a ragged breath.

  "You have."

  It was not a question.

  "Yes,” she confessed. “Only once."

  He sensed in her voice mild trepidation, outweighed by passion.

  "It will happen again,” he said. “Now."

  "Yes..."

  "Say it,” he demanded. “Say I will be fucked in the ass by my dominant lover for the world to see."

  "I-I will be fucked in the ass,” her voice trembled. “By my dominant lover for the world to see."

  Reed backed up. “Let the sheet fall."

  The moment of truth. No one was watching but there were hundreds of people below them. He intended for this moment of exposure to last only a few seconds, but it would be worth a life time.

  "Let the sheet fall,” he repeated. “Or I will leave you out here naked all day and make you masturbate."

  "You wouldn't..."

  "You certainly hope not,” he said.

  "I feel so helpless,” she whispered, like a scientist marveling at some natural phenomenon. “My whole body is dancing inside, the harder you push me."

  "You dreamed this,” he reminded.

  "No, I imagined it. You dreamed it. And now you are making it real."

  Cheyenne let go of the sheet. She stood, proudly, breasts rising and falling, a slight shaking visible in her body.

  "How does it feel?” Reed touched her hip. “Being owned?"

  "There aren't words."

  "I wanted you. I wanted this the moment I saw you. When I had to deal with that scum bag Mad Dog, I was ready to kill him."

  "I know,” she whispered. “And later in the woods, I knew you would die for me, too."

  He lifted the sheet and gathered around them both.

  "Why? Why would you die for me?"

  "It's not something you choose."

  "You make me sound like an addiction."

  "There are worse in the world, plenty worse."

  "Would you be free of me if you could?"

  "It's not question time, Cheyenne.” Holding the sheet with one hand draped about her neck, he went to work preparing her body. Using the fluids of her drenched pussy, he lubricated the tiny opening of her sphincter. She reacted with a start, as though jolted.

  "Easy,” he whispered.

  She relaxed at once.

  Another show of trust, of bonding.

  In and out, in and out he moved his fingers. She was not experienced, only one time before had she experienced anal intercourse. Had it been with Frankie? He hadn't asked, didn't want to know.

  "That's it,” he praised as she settled back, accepting his gentle efforts to loosen and widen her. “Oh, god, you are so tight, this will feel so good."

  "I want to please you,” she said.

  "You do, just being yourself."

  Reed replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock. “Hold the sheet,” he said. “Keep it close."

  She did as she was told, maintaining their discrete if not fool proof cover.

  It certainly would not take a genius to figure out what the pair was up to wrapped up together like this.

  Cheyenne clutched it to her breast in a gesture of pure innocence.

  That was one of the many contradictions in the woman. So full of experience and yet able to appear utterly fresh and new and curious.

  He sank his shaft an inch or so, paying close attention to her reaction. Her breathing quickened, then slowed, then quickened again. She was ready for more.

  "Oh...” she replied in awe as he conquered her further.

  He did not expect to sink in too far, she was too new at this and he was too anxious himself to come.

  It was the principal that mattered.

  "You're doing it,” he said. “Submitting in broad daylight."

  "My dominant lover in my ass,” she sighed.

  She said the words with a comfortableness, a familiarity. He couldn't help but take notice. “Is it as good as your dream?” he asked.

  "Better, because it's real,” she said.

  He placed a finger in her pussy, another on her clitoris. “How is this for real?"

  "It's real, all right. Are you going to come this way?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you do something for me?"

  "Anything, Cheyenne."

  "When you come, come without me, okay? I want to be clear minded, I want to feel you releasing inside me, making use of my body."

  Reed was not surprised at her request. It was the sort of thing a true submissive would ask. As much as a woman like Cheyenne loved and needed orgasms, she also needed from time to time to be put in her place as a pleasure object.

  Just as he from time to time needed to take his woman simply because he could, doing to her just as he wished, no more, no less.

  He removed his hand from her pussy.

  She moaned, facing the bittersweet end of stimulation.

  "Now we get down to business. This ass is mine.” He pushed hard, opening her. She gasped, as if struck, but the way she thrust her backside against him for more indicated this was what she had been waiting for.

  "Do you dispute our relationship?” he challenged.

  The ‘R’ word. It had slipped from his lips.

  "No..."

  "No, Sir,” he growled.

  "No, Sir,” she mimicked.

  "Later,” he said. “When we have our date, I want to play a game. You will be my prostitute and I will be your pimp."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "You'll enjoy that, won't you?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "No panties, today, Cheyenne."

  "I understand, Sir."

  He was fucking her hard, much harder than he had expected to be able to manage. She had indeed loosened to accommodate him. She was a natural.

  "Grab the rail,” he ordered, not caring if she would be able to keep holding up the sheet.

  They could both be exposed to every person in Venice and he didn't care. When their bodies came together the world could be damned, it simply didn't exist. Each time he had the oddest feeling of making up for something, as though they had known each other before or should have. Hence the intense concentration between them, the utter absorption of their bodies.

  Reed roared as he climaxed for the whole city to hear. His seed spilled into Cheyenne's tight canal, her body twitching and spasming against him. She might not be coming but she was feeling something. Som
ehow she kept that sheet up the whole time, even after he pulled out his flagging shaft and turned her about to give her a kiss.

  He made it deep and soulful communicating the experience from his point of view, the tenderness that came in the wake of savage possession. The sweet aroma of slavery, consensual, magical. She answered in kind, lightly pressing her body, holding nothing back. They could have been boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife for all the closeness.

  They were far from either, though.

  "We should get cleaned up,” he said. “It's time for our first date."

  "Sure,” she said dreamily.

  "Still intend on not letting me get lucky?” he teased.

  She rolled her eyes. “My no's don't really seem to stick with you, so I don't have much hope for that one, either."

  Reed laughed harder than he had in a long time.

  Then he thought about the game he had planned for lunch.

  Prostitute and pimp. Laughter turned to deep, mischievous pleasure.

  "You look like the cat who ate the canary,” she said.

  He put his arms about her, walking her inside. “Something like that."

  * * * *

  Only Reed would make a game out of a first date.

  A sexual game, steeped in complex overtones of dominance, submission, and wicked kinkiness.

  So now she was his whore.

  Dolled up in her party dress, sans underwear.

  A complete contradiction of the rules at the cabin.

  They began with a stroll through the Piazza. The two of them and a million pigeons and tourists. Reed looked for the quiet corners, the shadows. Here and there he would point out a man.

  "That one, give him the eye."

  She would clutch his hand tightly, getting into character.

  "Should I have you go and solicit?” Reed wondered. “How much do you think you are worth to a man like that?"

  With each potential purchaser of her body she would make a hypothetical guess. If too low he would chide her for cheating him of his profits. If too high he would call her a wanton wench with far too high an opinion of herself.

  She was soaking wet between her thighs. Did real prostitutes have to deal with such inconveniences? Cheyenne suspected it was less sexy and adventurous when the whoring was an actual job, not a fantasy made for sexual banter.

  "Perhaps I should offer you cheaper, your mouth, shall we say, to the lower income bracket."

  He made them stop so she could put on lipstick.