Below is the first chapter in BLUE PERSUASION, book three of the Bound by Your Love Series, Copyright © 2015 by Blakely Bennett. (EROTIC CONTENT – please be at least 18 years of age) This is the first draft so it’s still a work in progress. I would love to know whether or not you feel compelled to read more. Please comment. Thanks! Links to STUCK IN BETWEEN & BITTERSWEET DECEIT (all books can be read as stand alone).
Here is the blurb:
Judy, called Blue by her friends because of her extraordinary blue eyes, is a thirty-one year old woman longing to go back to college to finish her degree in creative writing. Even more frustrating than her dissatisfaction with her career is always coming in second place with the men in her life.
Bond, her best friend, and on again and off again lover, helps to keep her sane as he simultaneously drives her crazy. Their highly compatible sex life and friendship still leaves Blue hungry to be some man’s number one.
When she finally succumbs to Cat’s artful needle and gets her first tattoo, Tate and Blue cross paths in the shop. He’s an unavailable, towering, tattooed, motorcycle riding, American Indian, who is all kinds of wrong for her. Can Blue handle another casual romance even if the sex rocks her world? She finds herself falling for Tate despite his flaws.
Blue’s incredible circle of friends keep her grounded, as does the women’s group she attends weekly, but she can’t help wanting and needing more.
Will Blue ever find the love she deserves or is she forever destined to come in second?
Bitter Sweet Symphony
by The Verve
he Chart House restaurant in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, had a filled lobby and a line of waiting patrons out the door, which was typical for a Friday night. The ambience of the water and palm trees, along with a reputation for delicious seafood, brought a steady stream of customers, especially on the weekends.
As I walked through the crowd, I adjusted the collar of my long-sleeved, dark gray shirt, and noticed a guy in line staring at my covered cleavage as if he could unearth a view. Thankfully, I wasn’t in the red short-shorts and tight white T-shirt I had to wear at my previous job.
Please don’t let any sleazy men be seated at my tables tonight.
Although my tips weren’t as good at The Chart House, I felt far more comfortable looking like a professional and being modestly covered.
That night, I wore my dark auburn hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, with my bangs hanging just past my eyebrows. As always, I hoped the conservative clothes and hairstyle would discourage the steady stream of men from first leering, and then attempting to accost me as they had at my last job.
“Judy, can you pick up table eight?” Stan shouted over to me. He joined me at the side station as I changed out the coffee filter. “They’re friends of mine.” He dropped a creepy wink at the same time my stomach dropped, but I shook it off. He was my manager, after all, and I simply didn’t have the time or energy for an argument.
“Sure, Stan.” I peered around the partition through the crowd, and then filled up two water glasses. Outside on the patio, a warm, salty breeze greeted me as I approached the seating area.
Two big, burly men—my least favorite kind—occupied the brown, woven-back chairs around the circular, glass table that could seat four.
My five-foot, five-inch small stature left me feeling intimidated by most men. I had often wished I stood as statuesque as Lainie, a member of my group of friends. At least I was taller than Jacqs. Recently, they both had hooked up with members within our group, but that’s another long story, two actually, and for another time.
Steeling myself for the inevitable, I curved my shoulders inward in an effort to diminish the abundant size of my breasts. Boobs seemed a better term for them as they were much larger than necessary, which left me with no understanding or empathy for those who actually paid for boobs my size. My narrow waist didn’t help matters, as it accentuated my top-heavy frame.
My mother went on and on about how I should be grateful for my good fortune. According to her, I had inherited my large bosom and wide hips from my father’s side of the family, and from her side, a narrow waist and high-rounded butt. To her, this was a gift straight from the gods. If you ask me, it was hell-derived. What sixth grade girl would be happy with breasts already busting out of a DD-cup bra? None, I assure you. By thirty-one years of age, my voluminous mammaries hadn’t become any easier to deal with, and I would never share my current bra size with a soul, having cut all the tags out of mine.
As I slowly approached my boss’ friends, the man at the table with the thick, coarse, graying beard eyed me from head to toe.
“Well then! What do we have here?” he said, grinning to his friend.
Ignoring him, I placed the water glasses in front of them. “What can I get for you?”
“You, for starters,” the younger, clean-shaven man said as he reached out to touch the nametag situated above my left boob, “…Judy.”
I abruptly shifted to the side. “What would you like to drink?” Even though I knew alcohol would not help my current dilemma, I had to ask. Damn, I need a new line of work!
“My name is Dick, and I’ll take a Bloody Bull,” the bearded man said to my chest. “Do they make you button up your shirt all the way like that?”
Brushing off the question, I turned toward the other man and held my pen at the ready.
“A dry Manhattan … and it’s Keith.” He shook his head at Dick, appearing almost apologetic.
I had learned the hard way that the ones who seemed the nicest could be your worst nightmare. Walking away, I contemplated going back to college, for the umpteenth time, to finish my degree in creative writing. Maybe it was time to give up waiting tables and stick with just bartending. At least when I doled out drinks, I had a counter between the men I had to serve and me. Even in a nice establishment like The Chart House, I still felt vulnerable.
My phone vibrated in the pocket of my apron, prompting me to check on all my tables before placing the drink order. I scurried to the bathroom unseen and entered a stall to check my text.
Bond: I’m staying at the apartment tonight. Can you come by?
I typed back quickly.
Me: I have to be at Babes in Tattooland early tomorrow to meet Cat.
Bond: Finally biting the bullet, huh?
Bond: Bring the tattoo design to show me and spend the night.
Bond: Come by after you get off from work. I’ll take a break and meet you upstairs.
Me: Okay. I have to run.
I didn’t take the time to wait on his response. After washing my hands, I rushed out to serve a few meals and deliver the drinks to Dick and Keith.
“How long have you been working here?” Dick asked.
I held back what really shot through my mind, One day too many. Instead, I put on my server-smile and said, “A few months.”
“You’d make a lot more money doing something else.” The implication was crystal clear, but he elaborated anyway. “I could hook you up with a few clubs. You’d have to show more skin though,” he accentuated with an impish grin.
“No thank you. What would you like to order for dinner?” I asked, bristling and struggling to maintain a smile.
“A woman as beautiful as you, with your stunning proportions…” Keith interjected. “You could make a fortune.”
“The Applejack Sea Bass is very good,” I announced, fighting to keep it together. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but as the saying goes, It Never Gets Old for men like these. In my case, it never got any easier, either. I tilted my head to either side and stretched my neck. “If you’d rather have steak, then I recommend the prime rib.”
“Why are you so uptight?” Dick demanded.
Somehow, his parents knew what they were doing when they named him.
“If I told you the truth, I’d get fired. How about you place your orders and let me get back to my other tables?”
“How about not? I won’t say anything to Stan.” He reached out to grab my arm.
I swiftly sidestepped his attempt. “Right, well…” I contemplated for a brief second whether losing another job was worth being honest, and I decided, yes. Getting hired had never been a problem, the only perk my body granted me. I let it all spill out, “If men would stop assuming that my appearance means I want sex 24/7, life would be a heck of a lot easier for me. I have no desire to strip or to show off my body for anyone’s enjoyment other than my boyfriend’s or husband’s, that is if I can ever locate a decent man in South Florida. And those odds are looking more dismal every day.”
“You’re neglecting the gifts god gave you, young lady,” Dick declared.
“You and my mother would get along well, Dick,” I said, making sure to enunciate his name. “It seems you need more time to order. I’ll check on my other tables and be back in a few.” I stalked away before they had the chance to respond.
By the end of the night, I desperately needed a shower to wash away the grime and the never-ceasing emotional toll extracted for looking like a walking blue-eyed, dark-haired, voluptuous blowup doll.
My shotgun one-bedroom apartment had a narrow design plan with a tiny kitchen. The hardwood floors gave it some character and since moving in, I had slowly been making it my own by collecting art pieces and paintings when I could scrape up the money. Having a female roommate hadn’t worked out well for me, and living with a male seemed like an even worse option. I didn’t much care for living alone—particularly in this neighborhood—but it definitely beat the alternative. I fanatically kept my doors and windows locked at night.
The one mirror in my tiny apartment hung over the sink in the pink bathroom surrounded by yellow Post-It notes with positive affirmations. Smile, it’s a new day. I love and approve of myself. I trust myself. I am beautiful and smart and that’s how everyone sees me. I am safe and sound. I have given up criticizing myself. I trust my inner wisdom.
Ignoring the rest of the yellow stickies and wiping the moisture off the mirror from the steamy shower, I applied blue eyeliner as I got ready to go over to Bond’s place. My long, thick eyelashes didn’t need any mascara. I threw on jeans, a bra that held me in tightly, and a blue tank. After slipping into a pair of sandals, I grabbed my overnight bag, wallet, and keys, and then headed out the door.
On my way over, I thought about Bond. Only his family called him by his real name, Mitchell. Maybe because he detested his given name, he had taken to doling out nicknames to all the people in our friendship circle. He had dubbed me “Sweet Judy Blue Eyes,” shortly after we met. He said it was because of my striking blue eyes. After a while, I became “Blue” to our group.
The guys in our friendship circle, Bond, Red, Stay, Kev, and Dawg didn’t intimidate me at all. They had taken the time to get to know me outside of my looks. Most men made horrible assumptions about me, even before learning my name.
Bond and I had been having sex on and off for years without the group’s knowledge, which had to be a feat of magic worthy of a Houdini illusion, as not much was held sacred within our group of friends. Our fuck-buddy status started shortly after Red and I briefly dated. I never could get past Red’s huge size, and he never could get past my dark needs and insecurities. With Bond and me, we had an understanding. We didn’t poke at each other’s vulnerabilities.
I can’t say I was happy when Jacqs began to date Red and continued seeing Bond, but recently, Bond and I had resumed our steamy, dark sex, so it was hard to care. Plus, unlike Red, he understood my insecurities and used them to his advantage.
After pulling into the parking lot of the CroBar Club, where Bond deejayed, I texted him, letting him know I had arrived.
I exited my aged, brown Corolla hatchback, making sure the driver’s side door closed all the way by knocking it with my hip. Bond lived in an apartment above the club, so I waited by the steps that led up to it.
“Hey,” he said as he approached.
“Hey yourself, handsome.”
He wore dark jeans, a fitted black dress shirt, and shiny black boots. The top of his long, brown hair was pulled back, highlighting his light brown eyes and making them as stunning as ever. He took my hand and led me up the steps.
My body responded, knowing what was to come as the thumping bass from CroBar’s vast stereo system followed us up the stairs.
“Don’t have much time now, but I’ll make up for it later.” He unlocked the door to his apartment.
“I’m sure you will, dude.” I smiled his way, and his face lit up in return.
Bond kept his place relatively neat, which always impressed me, considering the ‘bachelor-pad’ atmosphere. He led us over to the black leather couch sitting atop an oriental rug.
Although the space wasn’t much bigger than mine, the furnishings spoke of money that I certainly didn’t have. He received an income from a trust his grandparents had set up for him and his father controlled. Rumored amongst our group, Bond would be coming into a substantial inheritance in a few years. I never asked him about it directly, and it really didn’t matter to me. Unlike my mother who liked to use her attractive looks to garner perks from her latest conquest, I vowed to make my own way in life. Bond and I had never been in love, however, I did love him like family but with an outlandish, wild chemistry thrown in. To me, he was the most misunderstood of all of our friends. He would cut off his left arm for anyone in our circle and in some ways, he was as tenderhearted as I was, only he hid his softer side behind macho bravado.
Bond’s thumb stroked my palm, causing my body to vibrate. “How was work?” he asked.
“Oh, you know, the same old bullshit, but I did okay in tips.” I had to raise my voice so he could hear me over the music pounding through the floor. “Stan stuck me with friends of his who wanted to set me up as a stripper.”
“Sorry, Blue, that’s gotta suck. Did it remind you of the situation your father put you in?”
“Yeah, for a second, but let’s not go there. I’m not a fifteen-year-old girl anymore. Plus, your text came at the perfect time and cheered me up.” I scooted closer to him. If anyone could help distract me from my plight in life, it was Bond.
Sweeping me into his aura, he pulled me in close and kissed me deeply. After he sufficiently stole my breath, he clutched my hair in his fist and yanked my head back, then he bit his way down my neck.
The delicious pain made me gasp and squirm. “Oh yeah!”
He nipped up the other side of my neck, causing me to yelp. “Strip,” he ordered.
While I quickly shed my clothes, Bond went to the bathroom and returned with a towel, which he draped over the left armrest of the couch. He turned me to face him as I stood there with my arms wrapped over my breasts.
“Cut that out,” he growled at me, taking my small wrists in his hands and bringing my arms to my sides. He scanned me from head to toe. “I’ll make those tits of yours suffer when I get back.”
He knew exactly what I needed. Just his words made my thick, dime-sized nipples strain for his crop. He clasped my tight buds and pulled me around to the end of the couch. Setting my bottom on the edge, he roughly pushed me over. My back arched when it hit the seat cushion, situating my butt higher on the armrest with my calves dangling over the side.
Watching Bond, I spread my knees wide, dipped my fingers into my wet entrance, and coated my clit with my juices. Like my huge breasts, I felt embarrassed by my protuberant nub.
“I’ve got it,” Bond said, swatting my hand out of the way. “This is why you need to be tied up. After all this time, you still doubt I can make you cum? Repeat after me, ‘You’re in control.’”
“I’m in control,” I said and laughed.
“You will pay for that,” he said with a wicked grin. “Arms above your head. Now!”
“Yes, sir,” I responded with plenty of cheek as I saluted.
“You must be itching for a really hard session later. Now shut up and let me take care of business.” He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down. Never one to wear underwear, his long cock jutted out in rapt attention. After rolling the condom over his hard erection, he pierced my wet labia in one fast stroke.
“Oh, hell yes … take me hard,” I growled thickly.
His thrust kept rapid time with the hammering bass that rose up through the floor as he used his thumb to manipulate my bulgy clit.
I clasped onto the edge of the cushion over my shoulders and pulsed into him, helping him to stab deeper. I needed it hard and fast, and he didn’t disappoint.
As my clit swelled, Bond used more pressure, rubbing back and forth across my raised bud. He savagely forced his pelvis against mine, bringing me right to the brink of relief as the sweet friction started to overwhelm me.
“Do it,” he yelled.
“Ohhh god … harder!” I cried.
As soon as my orgasm began, he increased his propulsion and pinched my nipples, sending me even higher over the bewitching edge into senselessness.
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” I screamed, gushing over Bond’s cock as my electrified contractions fired between my boobs and my swollen clit.
He paused and smiled at me.
I prayed that someday “my Bond” would manifest, but as each year flew by, I became less and less hopeful. Silently, I thanked “this Bond” for making the wait less arduous.
He held his hands out to me and tugged me to my feet. He pulled me away from my musings when he shouted, “Flip over!”
As I bent over the side of the couch, face first, he split my long hair in either fist and yanked me back onto his shaft. His extreme drive knocked my pussy against the edge of the couch. That, coupled with the yanking of my hair, caused the pure sense of pleasure and pain that allowed me to lose myself and thoroughly enjoy sex with him.
Not long after, his deep roar rumbled in his chest. He jackhammered throughout his climax, adding his call to the chorus of music surrounding us. His body blanketed mine, and I could feel his pounding heart against my back. Once his breathing slowed, he stood and spanked my ass.
“Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll wake you when I’m back later.” He slipped off the condom and using the side of the towel lying under me, he wiped off his cock and thighs, and then buttoned up his jeans. He tossed the condom in the trash and left.
As soon as the door shut, I stood and cleaned all the wetness between my legs.
I loved being in Bond’s apartment alone. Somehow, it made our friendship even more intimate. I dug my short, satin robe out from the very back of his wall of closets. The mirrored doors cast my reflection back to me, and I quickly turned away. I vowed to hold onto the vision of how Bond saw me, not how I saw myself.
I bounced up onto his king-size bed, where his 007 Octopussy poster hung above the headboard, and I scanned the rack of paddles, whips, restraints, and other bondage paraphernalia that hung on the left wall. I wondered what he might use on me later.
Restless and not tired, I wandered back to the living room and looked through the photo album of Polaroid pictures of women that sat on the coffee table. Naked from the waist up, I marveled at how he had gotten so many women to expose their breasts for his camera. I was very happy to see none of the gals from our group had posed.
I grabbed a quick snack, and then got ready for bed. The day had worn me out, so it took me all of five minutes to doze off to the pounding bass vibrating the small apartment.
“Blue, wake up.” I felt someone shaking me. I scurried up to the top of the bed, making myself as small as possible and tucked my legs in against me. My heart raged inside of my chest.
“It’s just me,” Bond said gently into the silence.
“Sorry,” I responded, trying to brush off my reaction. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just a few beers. I stopped drinking the hard stuff altogether.”
“Okay, no missionary.”
His shoulders lowered, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, Blue. I won’t forget.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just waking up.” I lowered my legs and sighed.
“Do you want to pass until tomorrow?”
“No, definitely not. Just give me a minute in the bathroom, and I’ll be ready.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
“Great. I’ll set everything up.”
“Great.” I hopped down off the mattress.
He spanked my naked ass on my way to the bathroom.
“Hey!” I yelled, giggling. “We haven’t started yet!”
“Just getting you warmed up.”
“Stop it and we’ll get to it sooner,” I fake whined with my hands on my naked hips.
“Who’s in charge here?”
“Is that a trick question?”
He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the bathroom.
I bent over in submission, presenting my ass to him, but before he had a chance to spank me again, I ran off.
“Now, you’re really going to get it!” he called after me.
“Sure, uh huh.” I laughed and closed the bathroom door behind me.
When I exited after freshening up, I saw a black crop, a brown strap paddle, and a full-headed black flogger lying on the side of the bed. Looking up, a coarse, beige rope hung from an eyebolt in the ceiling with leather cuffs attached. However, what really garnered my attention was Bond, standing naked in front of me, his five-foot, ten-inch, slender frame suiting me well.
I loved that he had let his long, brown hair loose. I’d always had a thing for men with long hair.
His full shaft and bulbous head let me know he was just as excited as my pounding heart indicated. Between his defined, smooth chest, hard cock, and the tools he’d set out, my pussy blushed appreciatively and my clit poked out.
“Are these nipples ready for my abuse?” he asked, squeezing them tightly between his fingers. He led me under the eyebolt near the side of the bed. “Do you want a gag? I’m not going to be gentle.”
I shook my head rapidly. “No.” I hated anything that could potentially restrict my breathing.
“Don’t disappoint me,” he warned. He attached the padded leather cuffs to my wrists and tugged the rope until my arms stretched above my head, my feet still resting firmly on the ground. He brought over a thick piece of bamboo and used the long side of the rope to tie my ankles to the wood, keeping my feet fixed far apart.
Completely exposed, I no longer had control over the outcome. My body vibrated and my breathing became low and shallow.
“Your expression is such a turn on. Did you know that submission makes your eyes glow? I want the rest of your body to feel it too.” He ran his hands all over me as he devoured my mouth. Our intense chemistry sparked, increasing the sexual tension as he squeezed my breasts, plucking at my nipples.
I twisted and turned from the flare of his fingers digging into my flesh, causing my juices to run onto my thighs.
He slapped my boobs, and I wallowed in the sensation. Deriving pain from my body allowed me to enjoy the pleasure. Bond knew how to find the outer edges of my resistance. I could already tell he planned to push them.
As if hearing me, he chose the strap and began working on my back, striping me with force as I squealed out with each strike. He had awakened every nerve ending, sending chills up and down my spine.
I trembled with arousal.
After throwing the strap down, he glanced up at me and twitched his eyebrows. He teased between picking up the crop, which I had experienced numerous times with him, and the flogger, which he seldomly used on me. With crop in hand, he started on the pulp of my large breasts, slapping closer and closer toward my nipples. Right and left, he alternated, until he landed directly on target.
“Ahhh,” I cried, so high on the endorphins being released, the acute sensation had me gasping.
He then found a rhythm, back and forth, landing squarely on my peaks.
“Ohhh … ohhh … ohhh!” I cried with each snap of the crop.
When the treatment ceased, he knelt down and reached between my thighs, caressing my clit with one hand while rubbing my G-spot with the other. He stopped and said, “I’ll be right back.” He quickly returned with a towel that he spread on the carpet under my soaking wet pussy.
My cum had migrated past my thighs onto my lower legs.
“Are you ready for more?”
“Yesss,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“Just remember, you asked for it.” He picked up the flogger and started swiping my back with the many leather lashes, sending tremors over the surface of my skin. Once he struck the front of my body, I knew he had been taking it easy on me. He used the whip and swashed over my breasts harder than before. I screamed over the ferocity, twisting in my restraints and loving every second of it.
Then he took me completely by surprise. He used the flogger on my thighs, until it landed right on my protruding clit.
“Uhhh … Uhhh … oh, holy hell!” I yelled, instinctively attempting to close my legs.
“Spread those knees wide and expose your pussy to me,” he ordered as he slapped the leather hard against my thigh.
He used his fingers to fondle my nub while with his other hand, he yanked on my urgent nipples. Right at the brink of an explosive climax, he stopped and resumed flogging the front of my body.
Off and on, the sweet torture continued, until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Please!” I cried out.
“If you insist.” He seared me with his kiss just before he sucked my right nipple into his mouth and continued to manhandle my clit.
The hard detonation racked my body, shaking me to the core, making my knees weak as I struggled to stay balanced on my legs. My squirt shot out, firing repeatedly, and covered his hand. Once my orgasm trailed off, I collapsed onto Bond as he captured my weight.
He held me until I could stand on my own, then he untied my ankles and decreased the tension in the rope above my arms. Lifting my body, he perched my knees on the edge of the mattress with my face down, my arms arching back behind me. Under me, he replaced the towel, and then donned a condom. He groped the front of my body and played with my clit before seeking penetration. He knew if he kept me right at the brink, his stiff cock would cause my titillation to fire off again.
The thick head of his shaft shoved against my labia while he wrapped his arms around my torso. He pulsed into me, using his control over my body to sluice out and slam back in. “You may touch yourself,” he whispered seductively.
I rubbed the very tip of my clit and began to gush even before my second climax struck. My body erupted as he continued to seek his own liberation.
He rode me hard throughout my potent orgasm. His girth widened just as he slowed down his unrestrained pace. He shifted his hips from left to right, rubbing every spot in my canal. His arms held me captive as he used me to find his own release. He whispered, “I’m right there.” The roar I had come to love sounded, and I could feel the heat of his release. We stayed locked together, still flying high from our copulation.
“That was incredible, Blue,” he sighed. “Let’s clean up and get into bed. Then you can show me the tat you’re getting.”
We snuggled in bed for a while, and I felt completely satiated and content. I reached down into my overnight bag and showed Bond the tattoo that would be permanent in just a few hours.
“Where?” he asked. He lay on his back holding the drawing above us.
“At first I was thinking the top of my foot, but Cat said that’s a no-go because it’s very painful for a first tattoo. Plus, this particular design needs to be larger so you can see the cherry blossoms in the wings of the dragonfly, don’t you think? She says she plans to give it lots of dimension with shading and make it appear to be flying. It’s going to go on my right shoulder blade.”
“Not sure I agree with her. You like pain,” he said with a wide grin. “That, and Cat’s a light touch with the tattoo machine.” He scanned my body as if to find the perfect spot. “I’m sure you could handle a tattoo on your foot … man, you were so fucking hot tonight. I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.” He chuckled and looked back at the design. “Yeah, I think this design should be larger.”
“Is Cat the one who fixed your previous tattoo?”
“Yep, and she also did Red’s tat.”
I reached across him and touched his right deltoid, tracing the Celtic knot surrounded by the flames of the sun. The whole group now knew the significance of that tattoo. He had lost his fiancée in a car crash many years ago.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Bond asked.
“Cat’s an amazing artist, so no. If it were anyone else, I probably wouldn’t do it in the first place.”
“Gotcha.” He leaned across me and turned off the lamp.
I lay the art rendering of the tattoo on my bag and cuddled up close to Bond. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I sank into the bed and his arms, smiling and thinking that tomorrow should be an interesting day.