KING FOR A DAY …Lower Mia traveled along Seth’s body, her mouth following the pattern of hair until her tongue plunged into his navel. Her hands clawed downward, and she gently dragged her fingernails over the well-defined ridges in his abdomen. He quivered, and his skin turned to goose flesh before her eyes. The pile of clothing he had been holding made a soft clump as it hit the plush carpet. Mia tasted the flesh surrounding his belly button, then continued her journey down the path of dark brown fur until her mouth reached his silver, western-style belt buckle. Using her teeth, she playfully nibbled at the thick mound in his jeans from root to tip, while his deep groans bathed her ears, voicing encouragement she truly did not need. “And what exactly are you doing, Cuz?” he asked, his voice raspy, nearly breathless. “Paying homage to the king, of course…”
ALSO BY PARIS DIXON Applaud The Winner Cry Merci The Essence Of Magic Him Hot For Teacher Lechery For The Devil Morning Ritual My Lover, Her Slayer Passion Knows No Boundaries Savannah Steam With Catherine Snodgrass, writing as Caitlyn Willows Déjà Vu Treasure Hunters White Lies
KING FOR A DAY BY PARIS DIXON
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
KING FOR A DAY AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2004 by Paris Dixon ISBN 1-59279-250-2 Cover Art © 2004 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To old friends who make my life special every day…
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Bubbly streams of torrid, invigorating water slithered over Mia Tate’s tingling flesh, teasing the horripilating mountains, plains, and valleys like an acquiescent tongue. Equally stimulating, swirling steam billowed from the shower floor in enthusiastic waves, cloaking her body in a phantom lover’s embrace. Her hands, slick with lavenderscented soap, painted a fresh layer of foam over her aching breasts and solid nipples, while moans of ever-swelling passion spilled from her mouth. Mia closed her eyes, imagining the hands working her to fevered heights belonged to another, to the man who had consumed her every waking thought, had stirred deep within her core her most primal desires. In the cerebral darkroom behind her closed eyelids, a kaleidoscope of lewd images, as ethereal as the steam encompassing her, hastily developed. The movie of her fantasies revealed what her would-be paramour might look like wearing nothing but the suit Mother Nature 1
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had provided him, which he had painstakingly molded into a work of art and sustained through years of healthy eating and strict exercise. Riveted to the mind-pictures, Mia reveled in the wedded touch of soapy fingers, humid-heavy air, and the stinging spray of shower water. Her hands followed the slippery cascade ever downward, over her taut belly and eventually into her female triangle. Soon, an eager fingertip met a swollen nub, slick digits invaded a drenched canal, and screams of suppressed longing poured from her lips, laving her eardrums in joyous unison with the juices of orgasm bathing her hand. It took every ounce of her willpower not to shatter into millions of quaking pieces, to maintain her precarious balance as she succumbed to the scorching, knee-quaking ripples she hadn’t experienced for what felt like an eternity. But she gripped the shower head, actually stroked it as she would her fantasy lover’s penis, and gained her bearings as it continued to spurt its heated offerings. For a long moment afterward, she stood under the pumping watercourse, her palms coming to rest against the cooler shower tiles, her head lowered until her trembling chin found itself burrowing into her cleavage. Panting, her mind still a crazy eddy of obscene fancies, she fought to catch her breath, to calm her drumming heart, to pull herself together before he returned to the house. Or had he already returned in time to hear her savage release? That notion yanked Mia back to sane reality. Her head snapped up, strands of long, wet hair lashing her backside. She shut off the tap and flung open the shower curtain, straining to hear any sound to indicate his early return. After a few seconds, when her ears detected only the frantic patter of water droplets plunging from her body to the shower floor, she mouthed a silent thank you into the sauna-like mist. Moments later, she stood before the cloudy vanity mirror, wrapped and secured a fluffy towel around her shaking frame, and contemplated the situation in which she found herself. Amazing what mental and physical havoc a single phone call, a hesitant request from the caller, 2
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and a haphazard response on her part would create. Had it been only two days earlier that she had so innocently answered the telephone, only a single day since he had arrived on her doorstep, changing her entire life in the blink of an eye? She planted her hands on the countertop and released a windy sigh. Lord, the past two days had been a whirlwind of emotional chaos, a sexual torture for which she had prepared no defense. And what amazed her still, was that after all these years, the meticulously fashioned fortifications she had constructed against further heartbreak from the male gender had instantly shattered. Just one glance at that sinfully handsome face, that deliciously muscular physique, along with the flood of ancient and happy memories, had toppled the flimsy walls of her emotional castle, leaving her ripe for plunder. And, damn it, when it came to Seth Kingston, she craved it! Even after her recent release, her pussy again ached with desire—or rather, throbbed with unquenchable lust. The fantasy of Seth’s large, work-roughened hands exploring her flesh, his generous, succulent lips enveloping her breasts, his tongue stroking her most intimate places before his hard cock invaded her dripping passage worked its magic, made her groan again with— From somewhere in the house, a door slammed, the sound followed by the jangle of keys. Mia stood upright, clutching her bosom with both hands and surveying her wide-eyed visage in the mirror. She gulped mouthfuls of moist air and attempted to gather courage for the actions she had hurriedly planned only that afternoon. Seth’s day of running errands to finalize his own plans, thereby, “not imposing on her hospitality any longer than necessary,” had left little time in which to think, to plot her own strategy before it proved too late. After snatching a brush from the counter, she ran the bristles through her sodden, waist-length, rich brown tresses, the golden highlights shimmering in the stark bathroom lights. No need for make3
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up, she decided, knowing she at least possessed pleasant features, which Seth had always admired. Or at least, had admired all those many years ago. But had his tastes changed? Who cared if they had, for pity’s sake? Mia thought. His dazzling smile, not to mention the eyes of midnight blue that seemed to smolder with a devilish lust while scrutinizing her body after more than ten years of unfamiliarity, had spoken volumes. She would be able to seduce him in a heartbeat, she concluded, and thanked the heavens for that power. With brush still in hand, she exited the master bath and slunk through her dark bedroom, her heart racing with the speed of a greyhound. At the door she had left slightly ajar before taking her shower, she paused and cautiously surveyed the lamp-lit living room. Seth’s tall, wide-shouldered frame emerged from the guest bedroom where he had spent the previous evening. He entered the living room, grabbed the TV’s remote control from the coffee table, and clicked on the set, hastily turning down the volume, probably in fear of waking her at this late hour. If he only knew she had barely slept a wink since his arrival. After flipping through various stations, Seth settled on the History Channel, where a narrator with a British accent began describing fornication customs of the ancient Greeks. A show on sex through the ages? How wonderfully ironic and appropriate. Mia suppressed a giggle from the darkness of her bedroom. Bolstered with courage, she gripped the door to open it, intending to make her presence known to her guest, to put her plan into action. She hesitated, however, when he stepped toward the recliner beside the couch. Before sitting, he peeled off his black T-shirt, tossing it on the floor. Mia’s gaze clawed over the mounds of rippling sinew he unwittingly presented to her hungry eyes. A wealth of swirling, brown 4
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fur covered Seth’s breastbone, tapering to a thinner line before plunging like a trail of sexual torture through the center of his tempting six-pack abs. Dark bronze nipples peeked through the chest hair, making Mia’s mouth water in need. Although she couldn’t recall the last time she had viewed that bare torso, now a Coppertoned wonder, she did remember it hadn’t looked anything like this masterpiece of masculinity. Of course, how could it? They had been pre-adolescent children the last time she’d encountered him face-to-face, and as a boy of eleven, her “cousin” had barely begun his magnificent journey into manhood. Her cousin… Those two words echoed in Mia’s head as she watched Seth pull off his shoes and socks, kicking them toward the discarded T-shirt. Those two words might have also curbed her prurient desires had they been true. Years after Seth’s family moved across country to Arizona, Mia learned they actually shared no DNA. “Aunt Joanna” and “Uncle Bob” weren’t really “aunt” and “uncle” after all, but merely her parents’ best friends from college. As her mother had told her, it had been easier to train Mia and Seth—born just weeks apart—to call each other “cousin,” their respective parents “aunt” and “uncle,” than to explain to two children growing up together the adult concept of “one chooses one’s own family.” Mia recalled her shock at learning that the boy on whom she had developed her first crush, the handsome lad who, at the age of five, snuck into the woods with her to play their first game of “doctor” during a joint family vacation, was no relation to her. But what had been shocking news as a teenager now turned to joyful knowledge as an adult; no forbidden barriers of bloodlines stood between her and her chosen prey. Seth settled into the recliner, holding the remote control in one hand and adjusting his crotch with the other. Mia’s gaze zeroed in on the bulge at the juncture of his thighs, hidden by a snug pair of blue jeans. 5
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As she had since his arrival yesterday, Mia attempted to recall everything about that first game of “doctor,” or the many games that followed for several years afterward, to no avail. The fuzziness of her recollections frustrated her. But it didn’t matter too much, she supposed, since what Seth kept hidden behind that zipper now likely had no resemblance to the tool that had fascinated her at a tender young age. Indeed, little of him resembled the pictures of her memories, apart from the captivating face. The photographs—mostly portraits; graduation pictures and the like—exchanged for more than a decade between families had done the man a great injustice. Even Seth, who’d regularly kept in touch via letters, telephone, and recently email, always seemed loath to discuss himself, therefore, hadn’t sent more than a few scanned or digital photos since his full-blown adulthood. Through the years, had “Aunt Joanna” tossed in a few “snapshots of Seth wearing skimpy Speedos beside the pool,” perhaps Mia would have been prepared for the stunning creature who arrived at her house. But even then, nothing would have likely prepared her to find a man who resembled the construction worker from the famous cola commercial, the one who had “secretaries” drooling from the windows of their office building during his bare-chested lunch break. Seth could have passed for the man’s double, at least in the torso department. As if reading her mind and deciding to give her further temptation to enact her plans, Seth worked the recliner’s lever, then stretched out in the chair, pillowing his head with his hands. Again, Mia’s gaze crept over every inch of his exposed flesh, from his bushy underarms right down to his perfect toes. She imagined herself lying atop that rangy pile of muscles and sinew, crushing her swollen breasts against his hairy chest and grinding her crotch against that mound hidden behind his zipper. It took every last ounce of willpower not to fling aside the hairbrush, discard her towel, and toy with her tingling clit. Damn, it had been too long since a man—a half-naked one, at 6
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that—had spent any time in this house. Of course, Mia blamed herself for being overly cautious. Her last few lovers had put her through the emotional wringer, and for the past several months, she had preferred “batteries over boyfriends,” as one of her friends had jokingly stated. But having a man right here, right now, especially a luscious hunk like Seth, thrust all thoughts of battery-operated machinery out of her head. Enough torture! her mind screamed, coercing her to action. Mia brushed some of her long hair forward, covering one side of her face, then nonchalantly strolled into the living room. With her head turned away from Seth, she continued brushing her hair, praying he would inspect her towel-clad form with the same desire she had inspected him. A moment later, she heard his sharp intake of breath. She spun around and feigned surprise. “Oh…Seth…when did you get back?” “A little while ago,” he replied, struggling to return the chair to an upright position. The way his cheeks mottled, his legs kicked the upraised footrest, and his arm frantically worked the chair’s mechanism to no satisfaction seemed almost comical. “I…I thought you were already asleep.” Suppressing a grin, Mia stepped to the recliner. “Allow me.” She wiggled the handle, using the “magical touch” she had learned when the mechanism began sticking several years earlier. With a loud twang, the chair snapped upright. Seth nearly flew out of the seat, but gained his footing before he crashed into the towering potted palm beside the entertainment center. “Ah…thanks, Cuz…” Even though he had also learned the truth about their kinship—or rather, their lack thereof—after moving to Arizona, he continued to call her “Cuz” whenever addressing her over the phone or in email. “Don’t you just love the humid summers in Savannah, especially when they play their typical mischief with devices? But you probably remember that.” 7
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“Yes, that and other things…” he said, his embarrassment seeming to subside. “So you had a pleasant trip down memory lane today?” He finger-combed his dark brown hair, its unruliness unchanged since youth. “It was great to stroll through the squares and see the old buildings. I even went to Forsythe Park and spent an hour sitting by the fountain, remembering all the picnics our families had there on days like this. Thankfully, not too much has changed.” His gaze took a momentary descent from her face down to her breasts, hidden behind the loose-fitting towel. “Unlike you…” From the television, the British commentator mentioned the word “penis,” and began explaining how phallic symbols numerously appeared in ancient Greek artwork. Seth turned his head toward the television and his chagrin returned with a vengeance; his accompanying blush, as well as the noticeable thickening at his crotch, sent tingles along Mia’s spine and made her clit throb. “I’ve changed for the better, I hope?” she ventured, drawing his full attention back to her. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his scrutiny of her began anew. “Most definitely. And me? Do you think I’ve changed?” “Not too much.” She nearly burst into laughter at his hurt expression—“The Pout,” she had christened it all those years ago. Amazing, she decided, how in so many ways he still resembled the boy she had wanted to cuddle and cuddle until the end of eternity. “Oh, sure, you’ve gotten a lot taller, and a bit more muscular…” Again, giggles rushed up her throat when “The Pout” grew more profound, so she decided to spare him further discomfort. “But your face? Nope…you’re still as handsome as ever.” The answer obviously pleased him. He released a sigh, while the right corner of his mouth curled upward, cutting a sexy dimple into his cheek. Mia remembered that dimple so vividly. In the past, it had always set her pre-pubescent heart to pounding. It still did, only now 8
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with the force of a hurricane. After running the brush through her hair a final time, she tossed it onto the coffee table, where it landed on a mini-mountain of Glamour, People, and Good Housekeeping magazines. Beside the magazines lay various brochures and portfolios describing several of the area’s historical homes, part of the research she had collected for her job as tour guide for the many history buffs that infiltrated Savannah each year. Instead of fantasizing about Seth while taking her long shower, she should have been out here doing “her homework.” Even in youth, she had often ignored her schoolbooks when thoughts of her handsome “cousin” made it difficult to concentrate. Damn, she thought, in a mere twenty-four hours, Seth’s presence had her returning to her old habits. But she truly didn’t care; after all, with a half-naked hunk standing just inches away, his bronzed flesh emitting the spicy, tempting scent of Brute while his bulging muscles practically screamed for attention, what red-blooded—and horny—female would prefer homework to lovemaking? Only a stupid one, Mia decided, and mentally thumbed her nose at the research. “So, did you take care of all your business?” she asked, battling to keep her eyes on his face when they disobediently drifted over his wide shoulders and well-developed pecs. “Not all, but most.” “What did the realtor say?” “I can actually buy it!” Out of reflex to his joyous news, Mia threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. The roughness of Seth’s day-old beard stubble against her lips, and the firm sinew hidden beneath the heated flesh on his shoulders and back, shocked Mia at first—the boy she could hug in friendship had vanished, replaced by this stud of a man—then thrilled her. Now, it was her turn to feel chagrin. To hide her own flaming cheeks, she released him, then turned, picking up the hairbrush once again. “When can you move in?” 9
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“If all goes well, next month.” Mia continued to look away from him and beamed. Her dreams had at long last come to pass. As Seth had explained two days earlier during his phone call, he had returned to Savannah with the intention of purchasing his childhood home, just off Lafayette Square on Abercorn Street. The glorious old house, dating back to the mid-nineteenth century, stood under the shadows of dazzling live oaks and the imposing dual steeples of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Through the years, “Uncle Bob’s” construction business in Phoenix had proven more than successful, making the Kingston’s wealthy beyond their wildest dreams, and the house, Seth had explained, held too many fond memories to not return it to the family. So when the Kingston’s learned—from Mia herself—the estate had been put up for sale, Uncle Bob sent Seth to Savannah to secure the purchase. Mia had agreed he could stay with her until he finalized his own living arrangements. “Then you’ll truly be moving back to Savannah? Permanently?” asked Mia, barely trimming the giddiness from her tone. Lafayette Square, after all, lay only a hop and a skip away from her house just off Madison Square, and the notion of him being so close in the future made it almost impossible to breathe. “Would that please you, Cuz?” “It might, King,” she replied, using his nickname and turning to face him. “It would save on long-distance phone bills, for one thing.” “Is that all?” “Well, Savannah can always use an extra construction worker or two, what with all the renovations these old homes need. Now I’ll have one at my disposal, who will perhaps offer a generous discount—hint, hint.” His deep-blue eyes twinkled in amusement. “Of course. After all, what is family for—or near-family for—if not for gouging?” She laughed, then marginally curbed the urge to leap into his arms, 10
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to smother him with kisses of boundless happiness and overflowing desire. Not yet, she kept telling herself, don’t scare him off… “It looks like I may need to stay here for a few more days. Do you mind?” Is he kidding? “Of course, not.” “Thanks. I hate ‘hotel living,’ and you’re so close to the old house, it’s much more convenient for me to pop over there. Besides, we have so much to catch up on. I can’t begin to tell you how nice it is to see you again after all these years.” He gave her body another inspection, longer this time, and decidedly bolder. A flashback to the shadowy woods, to the way a fiveyear-old “boy-doctor” innocently studied the hairless juncture of her thighs in a bid to discover what made girls so different, swept through Mia’s mind. The recollection made her shiver in excitement, especially now that the boy-doctor had matured into a hunk who had likely learned a hell of a lot in the ensuing years. “Anyway, Cuz, I’ll head back to Arizona in a few days and start packing. Hopefully, I’ll be back by the end of the month so I can move into the old house.” “How can your family make all those arrangements, do all the packing, in that short time?” “Oh, did you misunderstand? I’m moving alone. Mom and Pop are staying in Arizona, or at least, until they retire. I’ll be starting a branch office for Kingston Construction—using the back parlor as my base of operation—and I’ll have a huge ‘bachelor pad’ at my disposal. Picture it—a ‘King’ with his own castle.” “Goodness gracious, what in the world can be done to shield the single Savannah females from the wicked debauchery soon to be unleashed in your reclaimed kingdom?” He laughed. “Hey, I may be a lot of things, but a womanizer isn’t one of them, Cuz!” “Don’t lie. From what Aunt Joanna tells my mother, your wild 11
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escapades are the talk of Phoenix.” “My mother isn’t exactly the most reliable source, you know. You’ll find her picture in the dictionary beside the word ‘exaggerator.’” “So there’s absolutely no truth in her stories regarding the hundreds of females fainting at her son’s feet, calling at all hours of the night, kicking and clawing and beating down the door to snag him?” “None whatsoever…or rather…” “A-ha! I knew that tattoo wasn’t a fluke.” She pointed to his right shoulder, adorned with a vivid tattoo of the King of Hearts, with the name Kingston beneath it. Again, that damned sexy dimple cut into Seth’s red-tinted cheek, melting Mia’s heart. Who cares if he’s fucked thousands of women, she told herself. He was here now, in her house, and she would be damned if a little unjustifiable jealousy darkened her time with him. “So, King,” she said, gesturing to the clothing on the floor, “if this is how you’ll reside in your castle, you’ll need a bevy of servants to clean up the clutter.” He chuckled, then stooped and picked up his T-shirt and shoes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be such a slob. But in my own castle, it might not be half as bad.” “Oh? Why is that?” “Let’s just say that, when alone, the king is usually not above shunning his royal threads and crown. No clothes equals no clean up, you see?” The thought of this beautiful beast of a man roaming around that immense Victorian-era house and wearing not a stitch of clothing enflamed Mia’s insides, the heat centering in her groin. “Yes, I do see. As queen of my own domain, I’ve also been known to avoid clothing— especially on hot summer nights like this.” “Really?” He snatched his discarded socks, then slowly climbed to his feet, his gaze following her long legs up to her thighs, until the towel interfered with his intense scrutiny. He arched an eyebrow, and 12
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when he looked her in the eyes, Mia noted how the twinkle had returned, but with a new light, one shimmering with carnality. “I apologize if my presence has altered your habits, Your Highness. Your king begs forgiveness. I pray my punishment isn’t too severe.” “I suppose I should beg for the same leniency.” “What do you mean?” “As I mentioned when you arrived yesterday, consider this house your home. Therefore, as king in your ‘temporary castle,’ you have free reign, so I’m also infringing on your habits.” “But I’m here merely as ‘king for a day.’ Does that make a difference?” “Not an ounce.” Her breasts bursting to be free from the towel, her pussy moist and pleading for satisfaction, Mia could take the temptation no longer. She peeled the fluffy towel away from her torso and let it plummet to the floor. Instantly, Seth’s heated gaze centered on her bosom, then roamed down her navel and into her pubic bush, much in the same fashion, and with the same intensity, as she had touched herself in the shower not a half-hour earlier. Mia could almost see the wheels turning behind his creased, intelligent brow, could practically feel him fucking her with his thoughts. As he immersed himself in his silent overview of her bare flesh, Mia did the same to him, noting how his “royal scepter” had expanded to mammoth proportions, looking as if it would tear through the zipper of his jeans at any moment. She stepped toward Seth, and without hesitation, rested her hands on his torso, her fingertips delving into the forest of curly, satiny chest hair she had been dying to touch. To her relief, he voiced no protest, only watched her with a feral combination of astonishment, curiosity, and arousal in his eyes. Her fingertips detected his heart, drumming like a conga band beneath the rock-solid breastbone. She leaned forward and flicked her tongue over one of his nipples, already mimicking hers 13
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in its peaked hardness, then tasted the other one, suckling and painting it with her saliva. Lower she traveled along his body, her mouth following the pattern of hair until her tongue plunged into his navel. Her hands clawed downward, and she gently dragged her fingernails over the welldefined ridges in his abdomen. He quivered, and his skin turned to goose flesh before her eyes. The pile of clothing he had been holding made a soft clump as it hit the plush carpet. Mia tasted the flesh surrounding his belly button, then continued her journey down the path of dark brown fur until her mouth reached his silver, western-style belt buckle. Using her teeth, she playfully nibbled at the thick mound in his jeans from root to tip, while his deep groans bathed her ears, voicing encouragement she truly did not need. “And what exactly are you doing, Cuz?” he asked, his voice raspy, nearly breathless. “Paying homage to the king, of course…” She unfastened his belt, then practically ripped the button off his blue jeans. Following a frantic yet victorious struggle to lower the zipper over the solid mountain of flesh wedged inside, she slipped the material down his hips and past his hairy thighs. Black briefs, already damp with his juices, acted as sole remaining barrier to his petrous flesh. After Seth kicked the jeans away from his feet, Mia kissed the moist circle in his briefs, then licked her lips free of the salty-sweet sampling. Ravenous for more, she wrapped her lips around the head of his penis and sucked him through the briefs, tasting cotton and more of his nectar. All the while, her hands traveled up and down his sinewy legs, and she enjoyed the texture of the crispier hair covering the long limbs, especially as it grew thicker at his inner thighs. “What is your desire, My Queen?” gasped Seth, finger-combing her still-wet hair. For a long moment, she didn’t answer, but cupped his enclosed 14
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balls in her mouth, her tongue making a valiant attempt to pierce the cotton material. She looked up over the furry expanse of his magnificent torso and directly into his eyes, which mirrored her unadulterated lust. “You’re the guest of my palace…king for a day, remember? Therefore, King, what is your desire?” “To feel…” “What, Your Majesty?” she whispered, licking another growing bead of pre-come from the stretched briefs. She wrapped her lips around the crown once again and gasped her hot breath through the material. “Tell me…” “To feel…to feel my cock buried deep in your throat.” “Then your wish is my command…” Mia dug her fingers under the elastic waistband and lowered his briefs, slowly, unwilling to rush a moment of her first sexual encounter with the boy-turned-man who stood before her. The trail of fur from his navel ended in a patch of brown hair. Mia buried her face in the dense pubic bush, feasting on the rich scent of his male musk and combing the curly hairs with her teeth. Still enclosed within his tight briefs, his erection pointed toward the floor, its base pulsing against her chin. She licked the topside of the thick, heavily veined root as she lowered the material, inch by inch, revealing more and more of his glorious flesh, so much that she wondered when it would end. The elastic waistband eventually hooked on the ridge of his knob, then gave way with a snap before the briefs slid down his legs. His cock sprang upward and bobbed before her eyes, as if daring her to snatch it. Using the fingertips of both hands, Mia traced the network of purplish-blue veins along the shaft and watched as the fat, pink crown emerged from the slightly darker foreskin. No, she thought, wrapping her fingers around the lengthy shaft, this part of him had indeed changed, and most definitely for the better, since last she’d seen it. And in those days, she wouldn’t have known the first thing about making it grow as erect as it was now; but she had learned much through the 15
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years, and put her knowledge to work. A bead of crystalline juice gathered at the slit, gained mass, then began a slow descent toward her thumb. Mia stretched out her tongue and captured it, the salty essence acting as the supreme aphrodisiac to her sexually deprived body. She began stroking him at the base, then planted light, lingering kisses up and down the impressive shaft, enjoying the heat of his rigid flesh, the pulse galloping against her lips, the scent of his maleness. Finally, she slid back his foreskin, then took the crown into her mouth. She began to suck, languidly at first, then more brisk as her gluttony for his seed increased. His moans mingled with hers, increasing with the tempo of her adept strokes and the urgency of her suction, creating a lewd and luscious melody to her ears. Seth grasped her head and forced more and more of his rod into her mouth, stabbing the back of her throat while she welcomed the invasion. Although his size prevented her from encompassing all of his flesh in her mouth— none of her previous lovers had been so generously endowed—she did her best to satisfy him. Thankfully, her efforts proved commendable, for Seth quickly warned her of his impending climax, which made her suck him only harder. She slid her hands around his thighs and clutched his firm buttocks, pulling him forward faster and faster, showing him she craved the offering he would soon bestow upon her. Suddenly, she felt his cock twitch against her tongue and clamped her lips around the hard flesh. Waves of hot fluid bathed her mouth, blasted into her throat, and for a moment, Mia feared she wouldn’t be able to swallow fast enough. But somehow she managed, and milked his spewing cock with all the lust she had accumulated during these many months of being without a man. How Seth stayed rock-hard after releasing such a hefty load Mia could not imagine. None of her ex-lovers had achieved such a feat. But even after freeing him from her mouth, lapping his shaft clean of salty 16
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residue, then kissing his low-hanging testicles and nibbling at his furry thighs, his penis stood proud with the promise of untold passion. He gripped her by the upper arms and pulled her to her feet, then pressed his hirsute frame against her, cocooning her in his strong arms and raining kisses upon her face, neck, and shoulders. She wiggled her hips, making his slippery cock waltz across her belly, and grasped handfuls of his backside, glorying in his outrageous masculinity. Before she could catch her breath, Seth lifted her into his beefy arms and settled her on the recliner. He grappled with the faulty mechanism until the headrest finally fell backward and the footrest lifted, then lay atop her writhing frame. His exhales scalded her sensitive flesh as his mouth feasted on her breasts. Her nipples felt so hard, so bloated with excitement, she thought they might burst while his tongue laved them in torrid saliva. He reached between their bodies and plunged one, then two fingers into her heat. When he thumbed her clit, Mia unleashed a savage howl that seemed to shake the living room walls. “Fuck me, King!” she demanded. “I need to feel your cock inside me!” “Now your wish is my command, Cuz…” he growled against her breast, his husky tone reverberating through her heaving torso. She spread her legs, draping them over the chair’s armrests, and ran her fingernails along Seth’s perspiring sides. He maneuvered his body until the tip of his cock poked against her opening. For a long moment, he gently stabbed her nub, moistening it with her juices and his fresh emissions of pre-come. Every so often he would slip only his crown between her folds, capturing more of her dampness, then smear the heated moisture over her clit. All the while, he nibbled her breasts with his teeth, delicately and lovingly, coercing groan after groan from her throat. Without warning, Seth impaled her, filling her with inch after glorious inch of his granite-hard shaft. Her tunnel walls instantly 17
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spasmed around his tumescent flesh, her muscles clenching in riotous harmony to the throbbing of his erection. He ground their crotches together, waggled his hips from side to side, as if making certain no part of her core remained free of his exploration. Mia clamped her legs around his lean waist, clawed at his backside, then bit into his hard shoulder in a bid to muffle her shrieks. Seth dragged most of his flesh from out of her grasping canal, only to plunge into her again and again, faster and faster, his heavy balls soundly spanking her lower buttocks. From the television, the British commentator continued describing the penis, how the ancient Greeks seemed to worship it with unwavering, almost pious devotion, and Mia, spiraling closer and closer to euphoria with each thrust of her modernday lover’s penis, needed no convincing. She could definitely relate, and imagined herself worshipping Seth’s magnificent cock—hell, his entire body—tasting every inch of it time and time again, draining from him every drop of creamy nectar for the rest of eternity. Soon, the commentator’s words became all but lost amid Seth’s grunts and her accompanying groans, the recliner’s squeaks and moans in protest to their rutting bodies. The wedded sounds quickly swirled through the air in a licentious pandemonium. Heat, like a hastily forming ball of sexual energy, gathered in Mia’s lower belly, expanding and gaining strength with each proficient swipe of Seth’s blood-engorged cock against her tingling walls. The luscious friction swiftly reached a fevered pitch, stoking the fire into an inferno of orgasmic delight. What felt like a dam of suppressed juices gushed out of her, baptizing Seth’s already slick pillar of flesh, dribbling over his thwacking testicles, and into her butt crack. Exquisite shivers began at her groin, shot through her limbs like lightning, and before Mia knew it, she found herself quaking and bucking beneath Seth’s sweatdrenched body. Her mind rocketed into a vortex of utter bliss, an area heretofore unexplored. Only her lover’s frantic, animalistic growls of imminent release seemed to penetrate the humming in her brain. 18
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Seth slammed into her a final time. His muscular physique also succumbed to a wave of tremors, and he buried his face into her shoulder, his gasps torrid and moist against her flesh. His cock twitched and erupted, his seed exploding into her, and Mia welcomed each wave of gratifying warmth. Her vagina milked his throbbing shaft, draining from him every savory drop as she had done earlier with her mouth. Indeed, as she licked her lips and swallowed, she could still taste the salty essence of him lingering on her tongue and yearned for more…so much more… With a grunt, Seth collapsed on top of her. And with a bang against the floor, the old recliner shattered. The chair’s arms and legs snapped off, while the cushions softened the blow to Mia’s backside. For a long moment, she stared at her lover in absolute shock, until his open-mouthed expression of surprise caused giggles to rush into her throat. His cheeks flooded with color. “Shit…I’m sorry. I… I broke your chair.” “Hell,” she said through her raucous laughter, “as you found out, the damned thing didn’t work right anyway.” He, too, began to laugh, then kissed her with a passion she had never experienced from any lover. His tongue dove deep into her mouth, and he molded his furry body against her, engendering another onslaught of savage desire. Only then did Mia realize that his cock had not only remained inside her, despite the chair fiasco, but was also rock-hard and ready for additional sport. Amazing… Seth broke the kiss and traced her mouth with his index finger, painting their merged saliva over her lips. His dusky-blue eyes glowed with his own untamed desires. “If I had known what awaited me in Savannah, I might have returned to town much sooner.” “But you’re here now, King, and that’s all that matters.” “You’re right, Mia, that’s all that matters.” 19
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Mia? As she stared at that sexy dimple in his cheek, she pondered the significance of him addressing her by any name other than “Cuz.” She quickly realized, that perhaps for the first time, he now viewed her as a woman and not as the little girl who used to fawn over him, shadow him on a daily basis. She hugged him to her, kissing his cheek and clenching his cock inside her, unwilling to fathom the notion of him withdrawing it now that it had found its rightful home. Thankfully, he also seemed loath to the idea, and wedged himself even deeper inside of her, as if claiming his territory. “I have a confession to make, Mia,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. She queried with her eyes. “When Pop told me about his plans to buy back the old house, I begged him to let me come in his place—encouraged the whole expansion of Kingston Construction with me at the helm, just so I could have a chance to—well—to experiment.” “What do you mean? Experiment?” “With you.” “I don’t understand.” “My mom didn’t really exaggerate, or rather, not too much. Yes, I admit I’ve had my share of relationships through the years. But never once did I…well…” “What, Seth? Tell me…” Yet even as she spoke, Mia sensed what he was going to say. It remained alive, that mental and emotional connection they had shared in youth, each divining the other’s thoughts, sensing the other’s mood, without needing so much as a spoken word between them. They might have been separated all these years through physical distance, but the ethereal, almost magical bond remained intact, and it thrilled her. “Never once did I find anyone who…well…was you.” He seemed to swallow his chagrin, his hesitancy, then charged forward, his words coming in a rush. “Damn it, Mia, no woman has ever affected me like 20
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you. No woman has ever been able to take the place of my best friend, my true confidante. That special place in my heart you reserved for yourself years ago. Hell, my entire heart has always been yours. All the other women in my life have been nothing but cheap substitutes, and not even marginally close.” She had been correct; he had voiced the words she knew he would say, and they touched Mia to the depths of her being. “You weren’t the only one who had a fierce crush all those years ago, Mia. I needed to discover what it would feel like to be in your arms, like this, to have you as not only my oldest and dearest friend, but my lover.” “Then why didn’t you return to me sooner?” “And come between you and whatever boyfriend you had at the time? No, I didn’t want to interfere. I wanted you happy, whether it was with me or not. But when you wrote in your emails about your last breakup, how you had decided to take a breather from dating until you could find a man with whom you could share an emotional connection, well, damn it! I knew this was my chance, perhaps my only chance, at professing my love, to find happiness with you. Your recent phone call about the old house being put up for sale seemed the perfect excuse. I hope you can forgive the subterfuge.” She pulled his mouth down to hers, conveying to him in a searing kiss not only her forgiveness, but exactly what she felt in her heart, how their years apart, their separate journeys into adulthood, had done nothing to lessen her feelings toward him. After a moment, he broke the kiss. His grin conveyed his relief. “You have no idea how often I’ve dreamed of this happening. I had planned to bare my soul after we made love, actually imagined myself asking if the Earth shook as much for you as it did for me. But as you know”—he swatted aside one of the broken chair arms—“something definitely shook.” Mia tossed back her head and laughed. 21
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“So, after all this, am I still your ‘king for the day’?” asked Seth, sliding his fat, unrelenting cock in and out of her moist channel several times. “Nope,” she replied, once again suppressing a laugh when “The Pout” returned in all its glory. “You’ve been upgraded to ‘king for all eternity.’” His dimpled, boyish smile went straight to her heart.
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PARIS DIXON Paris Dixon was born and raised in the “steamy South”—Savannah, GA., to be exact—an undisclosed number of years ago. According to Paris, having grown up in a city filled with countless historical homes and avenues where hanging moss lazily sways from live oaks did much for her vivid imagination, especially after majoring in history in college. Her period of focus has always been the antebellum era of American History. “The decades prior to the Civil War,” says Paris, “have always fascinated me. This was a time when dresses became wider, tempers ran shorter, and a horrific institution called ‘slavery’ was the norm. I’ve often wondered what might have occurred within the walls of some of Savannah’s grand estates and plantation houses when a combination of humid-heavy summers and society’s strict mores played havoc with the urges of handsome young gentlemen and their nubile ladyloves. As personal accounts of the period clearly indicate, courting lovers of the era were wont to raise a glass of mint julep on their shady verandahs and complain about the weather while batting eyelashes at one another in the company of matronly chaperones. But what happened during these heat-filled summers when these passionate young adults with raging hormones decided to ditch these observant sentinels in favor of some ‘alone time’? Unfortunately, I suspect some of the more fascinating history of mankind never made it into the history books.” Paris is the award-winning author of several historical erotica books and the forthcoming Cry Merci (scheduled for release in 2005 by Amber Quill Press). Additionally, both of her short contemporary erotica stories, Lechery For The Devil and Morning Ritual, are now
available, as well as her paranormal erotica novella Passion Knows No Boundaries and the novel The Essence Of Magic. Other stories of erotic romance are either coming soon from Amber Quill Press or are in the works. Additionally, Paris sometimes collaborates on various books in the erotica genre with award-winning author Catherine Snodgrass under the pen name Caitlyn Willows. White Lies is available now, while the novels Déjà Vu and Treasure Hunters are scheduled for release from Amber Quill Press. Paris loves to hear from her readers, so feel free to email her at
[email protected]. You can also visit her website at http://bythunder.org/ParisDixon/index.html or join her newsletter by emailing
[email protected].
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Don’t miss The Essence Of Magic by Paris Dixon, available now from Amber Quill Press, LLC
Young and powerful Vita Omnia, First Daughter and Royal Witch of the Queendom of Travéttica, has selected one of her twelve magicrestoring Vessels to become her life-mate. And not a moment too soon, as her Day of Achievement before the Royal Coven is fast approaching. Viral and strong, sexy and alluring, Bron D’Extrian has won Vita’s heart, and she finally confesses her love to him. Like her Witch Mothers before her, she has chosen well, and with Bron at her side for life, Vita
envisions future generations of formidable Witches and sagacious Warlock Advisors to successfully lead the largest country on the planet B’Atrani into future centuries. But rumors flourish that one of Vita’s sisters, Lancine D’Olica, has eyes for the throne, intending to enslave all B’Atrani’s mortals and conquer peaceful lands. To increase her magical potency, the scheming and rapacious Royal Witch even goes against the Laws in the Art of Legerdemain and partakes in the favors of non-approved Vessels. Before she discovers the plot, Vita is kidnapped and imprisoned. Unable to feed off her Vessels, her superior magical potency drains. But will Bron D’Extrian, along with Vita’s other loyal Vessels, be able to gift her with superior strength before it’s too late?
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