What Wendy Wants
By
Nikki Sex
Copyright 2013 by Nikki Sex
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
To Michelle, my snarky, heavily medicated Goodreads fan who inspired this story.
Table of Contents
Prologue
1. The Kindle Affair
2. Ominous Beginning
3. Kindle Separation Anxiety
4. Revelation
5. Analysis
6. Friday Afternoon
7. The Plan
8. Date Night
9. Dominating Wendy
10. Honesty
11. Spanking
12. Frank's Fantasy
13. Connection
Prologue
The tall man was commanding and demanding. He had that perfect edge of sexy and rough that could only add to Wendy's erotic thrill.
Fast and unexpected, he grabbed both of Wendy's wrists, twisting them behind her back and pushing her against the wall. Wendy struggled, but only for a moment. Taken by surprise, she swallowed nervously. Lust and anxiety warred for supremacy in her mind.
Oh, God, he smells and feels so good, she thought as sensation overtook logic.
The man's large body pressed close against her, from his thighs, his narrow hips and groin, to her breasts. He was big and warm and hard all over. Evidence of his interest prodded firmly against her stomach. Arms secured behind her back, Wendy was utterly off balance, and slightly uncomfortable.
So why the hell, am I so damn turned on?
Her body flared to life in response to his scent, his strength and his domineering behavior. Wendy's pulse pounded in her ears and she strained toward him. Wanton and needy, she ached for more.
"You just keep still, now," he ordered in that low, slow, Kentucky accent.
His deep voice rolled over her flesh while the feel of his potent male strength made her knees buckle. His heated breath caressed her skin carrying a sweet bite of Scotch.
Wendy was naked.
The U.S. Marshal was fully dressed in cowboy boots, blue jeans, a blue button down shirt and tie. Then there was that large wide-brimmed Stetson hat. His eyes drank her in and his powerful male energy overwhelmed her - a potent force. She felt vulnerable, yet strangely powerful, too. This strong dominant man wanted her.
God damn he looked fine.
He transferred her captured wrists that were behind her back into his left hand, then pulled his right hand out and flung off his hat. It landed on the hotel bed. His attention moved to her lips, a flare of lust in his eyes. Putting his face against her neck, the Marshal inhaled deeply. Then he nuzzled and kissed her exposed throat. The whiskers of his 5 o'clock shadow brushed against her, trailing heated fire.
"You smell so good… I might just eat you right up," he drawled, pressing one denim clad thigh in between her legs. That hard male leg rocked against her, rubbing her tender cleft.
Wendy moaned as she struggled to absorb the spike of pleasure that rolled through her. It was just as well that the Marshall had a good hold of her because otherwise she would have sunk right to the floor at that point. She felt boneless after that seductive touch.
Melting, Wendy surrendered completely.
There was no need for choice or decision. This man had all the power and control, while she had none. Why did that send a joyous thrill of happiness through her? Captured, constrained, all Wendy could do was feel.
Surrendering completely, a delicious sensation of freedom moved her.
Hand cupping her jaw, he pulled her face toward him. He held Wendy there for a moment, his shrewd brown eyes looking right through her. What did he see, looking at her so intimately? Did he have any idea just how much he turned her on? How much she wanted him?
"Spread your legs," he bit out the command, his voice harsh with lust.
Wendy complied instantly. The Marshal cupped and squeezed her ass, pulling her into him. He moved in between her thighs, notching his big cock against her sex and pressing hip to hip. The man radiated heat. Tilting his pelvis, he pushed against her most sensitive flesh. His buttocks clenched as he rocked just slightly. This seductive tease ratcheted her arousal, creating a warm pulse below the waist.
"Oh, God," she whispered, mesmerized. The only sound in the silence of the room was her whimpers and heavy breathing.
The Marshal leaned forward that last small distance. The hand that cupped her jaw moved to her hair, his fingers running through it and then winding tight. Tension pulled her scalp as he bowed her head to the side. It only added to her overload of sensual pleasure.
With Wendy firmly possessed and in the exact position he wanted her, the Marshal's soft lips closed on hers.
Wendy gave a strangled moan from somewhere deep in the back of her throat. Wired, wet and totally aroused, she opened her mouth, accepting and welcoming that kiss. His large frame held her fast against the wall, the hard male thickness of his denim clad cock stroking the sensitive lips of her sex.
With his sensuous lips against her, he never loosened control. As much as she willingly stretched toward him, this was his kiss, exactly as he wanted it. His lips were soft and firm – creating a hungry spike of heated desire.
Wendy yielded completely as his tongue slipped into her mouth. With determined intent he explored her from the inside. Wendy's tongue found his, and she cried out with the euphoric joy of it. As he plundered her mouth, she joined in as they licked and sucked each other.
The feel of his long, lean body against her, the smell of him, the way he thrust against her cleft and his possessive kiss was all too much. This was carnal overload. She was captured, unable to move… and she wanted to move. Wendy struggled, seeking shamelessly to thrust and hump against him. He had claimed her, dominating her in a way that made her want to give him everything she had.
So many sensations! They all combined to send her right to the edge.
As his kisses delved deeper they also grew rougher. Pulling her head to the side by the hair, he began to suck and bite the sensitive skin of her neck. Wendy gasped, her breathing ragged. His every touch sent echoes of pleasure to every intimate area of her body. It wouldn’t take much to climax.
"Oh, God, please!" she moaned with fierce lust.
His hand moved down to caress the underside of one breast, and then his palm smoothed over it, cupping her fully. Her pussy tightened. Frissons of awareness sparked through her heated flesh. Her erect nipples begged for more as he rolled and tugged. Wendy moaned, straining toward him.
She was aching with desire. "Please, please!" she gasped.
He gazed at her with hard eyes, his lips firm as he ran his hand lower, across her stomach and toward her sex. "What do you want?" he asked in a rough voice, his body taut with desire.
Wendy was so turned on that she knew that she would orgasm with barely a caress, as long as it was lower. "Please," she pleaded. "I need more. Touch me."
"Say my name," he ordered firmly. "Say my name and I'll give you what you crave."
Breathless, she said, "Raylan. Raylan Givens!"
"Yes," he said lowering his rough fingers down to touch her clit. "I want to feel you come."
BUZZ - BUZZ - BUZZ - BUZZ
Holy shit!
Wendy's alarm rang at 7:30am Wednesday morning, just at the best part of her erotic dream.
Damn, it had been so real. Why couldn't that alarm have buzzed a couple of minutes later? So close yet so far away!
&n
bsp; Wendy had been watching the television drama, Justified last night, and for the love of God, that actor Timothy Olyphant was seriously hot. Was it any wonder he carried over into her dreams?
"You okay, honey?" her husband Frank said, resting a comforting hand on her back and shoulder, further shocking her back to reality.
Wendy rolled over and looked at her husband. His soft brown eyes reflected his concern. Frank was a tall man, about 6'2", brown-haired, and ruggedly handsome. He was almost forty years old, and like most men, the aging process only made him more attractive.
Frank was big and strong and Wendy loved him dearly. Their sex life had been passionate and perfect when they first married. At one time just the thought of him made her wet. So why they hell was it that he just didn't do it for her anymore?
She cleared her throat. "Er…why do you ask?"
"You were talking in your sleep and kind of moaning."
Wendy felt her cheeks heat. "What did I say?"
"Nothing I could understand. What were you dreaming?"
"I don't remember," she lied, relieved.
Whew! Wendy thought, close call. She would have been embarrassed to have to explain. How could she tell him? Lots of things turned her on, but unfortunately her husband didn't.
Not anymore.
1. The Kindle Affair
Wednesday morning Frank Hayward was running late for work. As a consequence when he picked up his Kindle in a rush and threw it into his briefcase, he had no idea that the Kindle he had grabbed belonged to his wife, Wendy.
Unknown to Frank, his wife liked reading romance.
Not just romance, erotic romance.
Well actually, smut.
Sexy, dirty, kinky, delicious, and utterly sexually arousing, smut.
It was the kind of smut that would make anyone totally rethink their sex life. A steamy type of book that would make a woman wonder: Just how many orgasms can I have before I pass out from sexual overload?
Wendy was right in the middle of a steaming hot story that made her want to discover that exact number for herself.
How much in life depends on tiny, little day-to-day choices? Or in Frank's case, not even a choice? On an error? On one careless oversight, a tiny goof that every human being is capable of?
Neither Wendy nor Frank had any idea of the consequences of that one little mistake.
~~~
"MOM! WHERE ARE YOU?" her little dude, Jeff, the youngest, screamed.
Wendy sighed. For a six year old-he had a mighty set of lungs. She could hear his screeching voice from all the way downstairs, even when she was in an upstairs bathroom.
The sound of little pounding feet vibrated up the stairs and down the hall, and then a voice through the door. "Are you in there?"
"Yes, you little monster," Wendy growled while sitting on the toilet with her Kindle in one hand. Wendy had hoped to have a tiny bit of peace, and maybe even read some of that juicy erotica that she had gotten half way through. The bathroom was the safest place… usually.
"What are you doing?" Jeff said in a curious and slightly plaintive whine.
"I came in here to have a nap and then maybe play some piano," she said wryly. "But now, since I'm here, I thought I may as well go to the bathroom."
There was a couple of long heavy beats of silence as Jeff processed her snarky sarcasm.
"No you're not," Jeff said." You're hiding in there reading again, aren't you?"
Crap! Wendy thought, realizing that she hadn't even gotten as far as turning her Kindle on. Busted! That kid is too damn smart for his own good.
"Go away, Jeff," she said. "I'll be out in a second."
Wendy put her Kindle down with a sigh, got up, flushed and began to wash her hands.
She looked in the mirror. Hazel eyes, shoulder length brown hair. Nice figure, a few extra pounds, but no big. Well, maybe more than a few extra pounds. Unless it was wishful thinking, those boobs of hers had gotten bigger after having children. It was one advantage of motherhood.
After three kids I still look good, she thought. But I'm only thirty-eight after all.
Wendy's Kindle rested on the counter, beckoning her enticingly.
"I'll get back to you later," she told it, and decided to leave it where it was.
The erotic romance she had read a few days ago had been incomprehensible in some parts. It was a sexy BDSM story, but it had a lot of humiliation in it. Women crawling on all fours on the floor, wearing collars with leashes, and acting like furniture so that men could use them as objects.
Wendy couldn't understand that aspect of dominance and submission.
What in the hell could be the attraction to that? Particularly when humiliation was nothing new for her! Wendy got on all fours all the time trying to pick up junk under the couch or the dining table. Objectified daily, she often stood like a human coat rack, offering clothes and lunch boxes while getting the kids out the door for school. And as for a collar! Wendy had prescription reading glasses since year eight. She had lost them so many times that she often had them on a string around her neck.
Collared indeed.
Besides, she was a mom with twin teenage boys and a six year old. It was their duty to regularly mortify her and make her feel like an idiot. She didn’t need to read about humiliation in a book when she experienced it on a daily basis.
Yet those other aspects of BDSM - the spankings and bondage, not to mention fantastic multiple orgasms….well. That was a different matter. Wendy really wanted to try all that. Who knew what might happen? Maybe her love life would reach a whole new level. God knows, the level it was at now was an all time low.
The truth was she had become seriously bored with sex. She could climax more easily alone and with her vibrator than she could with Frank.
Wendy had recently read an article by Daniel Bergner in the New York Times. He asserted that it is women and not men who get bored with monogamy. It said that women are far more likely to lose interest in sex with their partners. It seemed that spouse-weary women often simply avoid making love altogether, and that they needed novelty to get them in the mood.
Now how could she explain all that to Frank?
Looking at herself in the mirror again, Wendy struck a sexy pose. Then her brows furrowed and she sighed.
As much as Wendy adored her husband Frank, she had fallen in love with and married Mr. Vanilla. He'd only been with three women in his life – and she had been one of them. Frank could be inventive, but he hadn't been for some time. He also traveled out of town for work quite often, which didn't help.
My Kindle and my battery operated boyfriend are my best friends.
True, a large part of it was her fault. She just couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject more than she had. Hints had gone straight over Frank's head. It was embarrassing. On the subject of sex, her husband was so slow. For a high IQ, successful forensic accountant with astute attention to detail, he sure was missing her cues.
She remembered her latest attempt to spice things up in bed: "Honey, sometimes I think that you should pretend I'm your sex toy, like a little game. Wouldn’t that be fun?"
"Hum? Oh. Of course," he had said, hopping on top of her missionary style. "You know I love you, and sex is the best game in town."
At the time Wendy thought she could almost hear a whoosh of wind as her latest hint flew right over his head.
Of course that rush of air could have been just her own disappointed sigh.
Raising her eyebrows up and down in the mirror, Wendy smirked. No, she would just have to be bluntly truthful. Toughen up and be more frank to poor Frank. How would that conversation go? Wendy could just imagine it.
How about, "Frank, can you grab my hands, hold them above my head, and then slam me against a wall and fuck me hard?"
Frank was so big and so strong – he could really take control if he wanted to. Wendy frowned. As much as she would like to say that to him, she just couldn't.
"Honey, er…are your palms twitc
hing?" she said out loud to herself in the mirror. Her lips curled up into a big ironic half smile. Frank would so never get that.
She bit her lower lip and thought it over. Maybe something like: "Sweetheart, can you spank me? I've always wanted to know what that feels like - it seems kind of sexy. It may be fun to be bossed around a bit in bed, or tied up, too. Can you go all alpha male and exert your will over me? Make me submit to your sexual pleasure?"
Just how would Frank react to any of that? Would he get it then?
Just once Wendy wished she had the nerve to really tell him what she wanted. Until then she would go along with the status quo. Wendy did love him. They got on so well, why couldn't she just be happy with that? She didn't want to jeopardize the good relationship that they did have.
At least I have my Kindle, she thought. And my vibrator!
2. Ominous Beginning
Wiping her hands on the bathroom towel, Wendy felt a greasy blob transferring itself to her fingers.
What the hell?
Wendy took a closer look. Well crapola. The damn thing had peanut butter on it. Inhaling a deep breath and muttering something about the Lord giving her strength, she left the bathroom with the dirty towel in her hand.
Wendy left her Kindle in where it was and walked down the stairs. She had plenty of time to get the kids fed, dressed and off to school.
While the boys were eating, a quart of milk mysteriously fell over on the kitchen table. No one sitting around the table moved until every drop spilled. Spilt milk! Ha! Well, that was okay. A veteran mother of thirteen years, experienced in frontline childhood warfare, Wendy was well above crying over that!
Then the six-month old golden retriever, Stanley, managed to start tearing a foam ball apart when no one was looking. Her youngest, Jeff, thought that this was hilarious and joined in the fun, trying to take the ball away from piranha pup. Pieces of foam went everywhere.
Joy.
When the twins began bickering, Wendy reverted to her favorite mental mantra. It was the one she used regularly that prevented her from wrapping her hands around the throat of one or more of her offspring: I love my kids, I love my kids.