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  A Forbidden Fantasies Erotic Short Story

  Anne Mercier

  Copyright

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  Copyright © 2017 by Anne Mercier

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover Photo and Design: Sara Eirew of Sara Eirew Photography.

  Editor: Nicole Bailey of Proof Before You Publish.

  This is a work of fiction. The use of actors, artists, song titles, and lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner's trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  PERSONAL NOTE: The only pirates I like are Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow and Captain Morgan, which means I'd appreciate if you'd keep my books to yourself. Pirating shows a clear lack of respect for the author—me. Thank you for respecting the time and effort put into each book. I appreciate it very much.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  Where To Find Anne

  Also by Anne Mercier

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Hang tight. Xander’s coming.

  Dedication

  To those who married their high school sweethearts and are still standing strong together… this one’s for you.

  1

  Another Saturday night.

  Another formal gala.

  Another event to wear the obligatory penguin suit.

  I slip my index finger around the collar that, lately, has begun to feel like a noose. Why can't I just send a check?

  My assistant's voice rings loud and clear in my head, "Because when you make an appearance and get photographed with the right people, it gives the company a lot of the much-needed positive publicity we need."

  I sigh, knowing she's right.

  This event is stifling. The music is boring. The attendees are the same ones I see at every event. There is nothing exceptional about tonight—including the conversation I just got roped into with the mayor.

  Pompous windbag. That's the only way I can think to describe this middle-aged balding man who never fails to overinflate his importance or knowledge on every subject that's brought to the fore.

  I don't tolerate this for myself. I tolerate this for my company. I tolerate this for the benefit of the charity we're honoring tonight. This charity is one that's personal for me. The Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research. My dad is struggling with the disease and watching him deteriorate is heartbreaking. There needs to be something more they can do. More medications. A procedure. A way to get that part of the brain to produce the necessary dopamine the body needs to function normally. One day. One day they'll find something and I'll do my part to help them. It may only be monetary, but it's giving them the funding to develop something new. One day.

  "You here alone tonight, son?" Mayor Windbag asks.

  "I am." Short answers stop him from poking further into my private life. The only thing I care to discuss with anyone tonight is business and the event.

  "Hrmpf. I can't blame you. I wish I could leave the wife at home. But she's got to make her appearances, you know."

  I just nod and take a sip of my scotch.

  "Chief Markson," the mayor calls out as the police chief strides by. I catch the wince on his face, and a smirk tugs at one side of my mouth. Another victim.

  After another ten minutes, I slip away to grab another drink. Then I make my way to a far wall and fade into the shadows. I rest my drink atop a tall table and lean back against the wall, hands in my pockets, feet crossed at the ankles.

  Why am I still here? I should just get the hell out of here and call it a night. But I don't. Instead, I watch. I watch and see the lecherous old men flirting shamelessly with the young wives who appear to take it all in stride, but if you look closely you can see the desire to flee along with a bit of panic and discomfort. Their husbands see the signs. The good ones reassure their wife as they rest a possessive hand on their lower back, hold their hand, or drape an arm across their back and pull them into their side. Those are the good ones.

  The bad ones, well, they do nothing. They let it happen. Either they don't see what's happening or they don't care. Either way, they're not paying attention to the woman they brought with them. The woman they should be caring for, making feel secure.

  My index finger hits the platinum band in my pants pocket, then I slide the tip of my through, twisting it around and around.

  Does taking off my ring make me better or worse than those men who leave their women out on the ledge?

  I have my reasons. Maybe they have theirs. I'd like to think I'm a better man than they are, even if I took my ring off tonight.

  I take a sip of my scotch, set it back down. When I look up, my breath gets caught. This is what I've been waiting for. She's what I've been waiting for. Her golden hair carefully swept up atop her head. The hint of makeup she's wearing enhances the natural beauty I'm sure lies beneath. Her lips are tinted red. In this moment, I can think of nothing I want more than to see those red lips wrapped around my cock as I fuck her mouth.

  In a dress the color of deep sapphire, she stands out amongst the black and white filling the room. Her dress, not the traditional style most are wearing tonight. No. Hers is appropriate, yet sexy. Sleeveless, strapless, coming across her breasts in polite modesty yet leaving enough to the imagination that I'm trying, with difficulty, not to get completely hard as I merely watch as she strides delicately to the bar. I've been half hard since the moment I saw her.

  She is exquisite.

  I need to see her eyes, their color. I know without a doubt they'll be anything but ordinary.

  I drop the ring in my pocket, down the rest of my drink, and head toward the bar—toward her.

  She takes a sip of the crystal clear liquid as I sidle up to the bar.

  "What're you having?" I ask.

  "Grey Goose martini, three olives. Dirty." She pulls an olive off the cocktail stick with only her teeth. When she closes her mouth to chew, that fuck-me red lipstick is still intact. The urge to kiss her and smudge those perfectly painted lips is nearly uncontrollable—nearly.

  "Another?" I ask.

  "I haven't finished this one yet," she replies, finally looking up at me. Her voice is husky and seductive. This woman is the whole package.

  Green and gray. Her eyes are green and gray. Just as I figured: unique.

  "You will, and then you'll need another," I remind her. My hand reaches out to touch her shoulder, but I stop at the last second. Control. She's making me lose control. With my finger so close to her skin I can feel the heat radiating off her body, I trace the air above curve of her shoulder and down her arm.

  "Another for the lady," I tell the bartender. He nods with a knowing smirk.

  Tonight, I'm going to have this woman in my bed. Tonight, I'm going to bring her so much pleasure she'll be scr
eaming out my name. Tonight, I'm going to give her a night she'll never forget.

  2

  Oh, he's a smooth one. Most women would mind, but I like it. In fact, I love it. It turns me on—a man with confidence enough to take over the situation.

  I peer up at him through my lashes, coy and what I hope is seductive. “Only one more.”

  The side of his mouth kicks up in a sexy half grin.

  “I don’t even know your name,” I remind him.

  “Mitchell—Mitch. And yours?”

  “Raven.”

  “You’re the farthest thing from any Raven I’ve ever seen.”

  It’s my turn to smirk. “That’s the plan, right?”

  Now his smirk turns into a grin. “Touché.”

  I move closer to him—one step, two, then lift my fingers to the lapel of his tux jacket. “Maybe we should just skip that last drink.”

  “Whatever the lady wants, the lady gets.”

  Oh, I really, really do like how he thinks.

  “Your room or mine?” I ask as we set out to leave the ballroom.

  “How do you know I have a room?” he questions.

  “Just a hunch,” I reply with a wink. “Let’s go to mine.”

  He nods and we make our way to the elevator bank. It opens before we press the button, an older couple kissing like teenagers is inside. The woman giggles—actually giggles, when they realize we’re watching them.

  “It’s our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary,” the handsome gray-haired gentleman tells us.

  I smile. “Congratulations to you both—not just for staying married for thirty-five years, but for keeping your love alive that long as well.”

  His wife smiles as she looks up into his eyes. “It’s not always easy, but I couldn’t imagine a day without him. I love him more now than I did when we married.”

  I can’t hold back the sigh of pleasure at knowing this couple, they have it all and they’ve kept it all these years. It is possible.

  “Variety is the spice of life,” the gentleman tells Mitch with a pat on the shoulder as they exit the elevator and then quickly disappear from sight.

  “Interesting couple,” Mitch prods. He’s looking for information I’m not going to give him. I refuse to give him what he wants. I want tonight to be tonight. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “Let’s not turn this into something it’s not, Mitch.”

  “And what is this, exactly?”

  “One night. You and me, indulging in forbidden fantasies. No one and nothing but you and me tonight.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  The elevator doors open to my floor. We walk down the hall, his hand on the small of my back, the warmth of it causing a shiver. Something tells me tonight is going to be more than I bargained for, but one I’ll remember forever.

  Mitch takes the key and holds the door open. I barely have time to set my purse on the table when the door slams shut, the locks are set, and this tall, handsome man with eyes the color of sapphires spins me around to face him. He doesn’t even pause before his lips slam down onto mine. He’s not gentle and he’s not patient as he coaxes me to open for him, to allow him to invade the recesses of my mouth as I am doing to his. It’s hot, it’s sexy, and it pulls an unexpected moan from my throat.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers as he kisses down my jaw to my neck. He leans back and his eyes zero in on my lips. “I just knew you’d look sexy as fuck with that red lipstick smudged.”

  “Was that your goal?” I ask, pushing the jacket of his tux off his shoulders.

  “No. My goal is to get you naked and underneath me, on top of me, all over me.”

  “And then?”

  He reaches down to unzip the side of my dress.

  “And then I’m going to make you moan, writhe, come, and scream—and then I’m going to start all over again until neither of us has an ounce of energy left. Does that work for you?”

  “It definitely works,” I reply, stepping back and letting the dress fall to the floor. I’m standing before him in my strapless black lace bra, thong, thigh high stockings, and five-inch heels.

  “Jesus,” he groans. “Your body is lethal.”

  I smirk then set out to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off and letting it fall to the floor where it joins my dress.

  “I knew it,” I say aloud as I trace the tattoos smattering across his chest. “You’ve got bad boy and rebel written all over you. The question is,” I ask, as I remove his belt and undo his pants, “will you be able to live up to that reputation?”

  He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist.

  “There’s only one way you’re going to find out.”

  Mitch carries me to the bedroom where he stands me in front of him again. He wastes no time removing my bra.

  “I can’t decide if I want to fuck you with those shoes on or if they’ll end up killing me.”

  I laugh. “Better to be safe than sorry.” I slip them off and now I’ve shrunk to where my mouth hits him mid-chest. I stick my tongue out and lick his pale pink nipple. He hisses out a breath.

  “I don’t think this first time can go as slowly as I want it to. I need to fuck you and I need to fuck you hard. Now.”

  “Who’s stopping you?”

  Mitch lifts me to the bed, where I lie back. He removes my thong and stockings. Next come his pants, boxer briefs, and socks.

  “Please tell me you have condoms,” I pant out.

  He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out at least four. Maybe it’s six.

  “Hmm. Wishful thinking or overachiever?” I question.

  “Tell me tomorrow morning,” he replies.

  After he puts on the condom, he moves us up the bed. His hand slips between my legs. I’m wet. He didn’t even have to check. I’m so wet my arousal is coating my thighs.

  “Oh God,” I moan, fighting to not come with just a brush of his fingertips, but it’s close. Too close. I clutch at his shoulders and pull him down to me. “I need you in me. Now.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He’s big, but as wet as I am, it’s not going to hurt. It’s going to feel fucking amazing.

  “You won’t. Hurry,” I plead.

  He doesn’t give me a second to anticipate his entrance. He just slams into me. I cry out and he grunts, his face buried in my neck.

  “Hold on, baby.”

  He begins moving hard and deep, not too fast and not too slow. If he keeps this up he’ll have me believing he’s a sex god. He’s only thrusted four times and I’m ready to come.

  “Don’t hold back. I can feel you clamping around me. I’ll get you there again.”

  “I… I can’t help it.”

  “I don’t want you to. Let go. Just let go.”

  I look up at him, his eyes ablaze with want, need, and desire.

  And I let go. I lose focus, then close my eyes as bliss spreads from my pussy outward, my entire body shuddering. The orgasm rocks me so hard I fight to breathe, wishing I’d been able to hold out longer. How pathetic am I to come in less than five minutes? Very. Very pathetic.

  I close my eyes as mortification fills me. What he must think of me.

  “Hey,” Mitch prods. “Hey,” he prods again. “Open those pretty eyes. Don’t shut down now. Not when you just gave me one of the best moments of my life.”

  I peer up at him in doubt.

  “You. You’re so damn beautiful and you don’t even know it. Do you know how sexy that was?”

  “Um…”

  “I’m going to make you do that again. And again. And again. All night. I want to see that look on your face as many times as possible.”

  “I’m pathetic, Mitch. Less than five minutes,” I scoff at myself.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? I would’ve loved it if you’d come the second I was inside you. Never be embarrassed about that. Your responsiveness is…” He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I need to move or I’m going to come just
thinking about it.”

  I lift a brow.

  “I’m not kidding.” He pulls out and pushes deep, so deep. “God, baby. You feel so fucking good. Move with me. I know you can come again.”

  I lift my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust and he picks up speed. His chest brushing against my nipples. Oh God. He grinds his pelvis against my clit when he gets as far inside me as he possibly can. A few more moves like those and I’m close again.

  “How do you do this to me?” I pant.

  “It’s not me. It’s all you. It’s you letting yourself go.”

  He’s right. I hold myself back a lot during sex, afraid to make too much noise or not enough noise. Afraid to be too wanton or too frigid. But with Mitch there is no thinking—only feeling.

  I arch my back, taking him impossibly deeper, and begin to come again. This time he’s going to go with me. He pistons his hips and lets out a long, harsh groan as his body jerks atop mine, his hips moving shallowly against me.

  “I don’t think I’m going to survive a full night of you, Mitch.”

  He chuckles into my neck, his weight settling on top of me. “You’ll survive. You’ll love every second of it. You’ll want more.”

  I flinch. “No. I won’t,” I tell him coldly. “One night is all I have to give.” But I made a deal with myself. One night. Just one. Just once I get to be free from the stressors of my life, my obligations, myself. Tonight I indulge in desire. Then it’s back to life as usual.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry,” Mitch replies, rolling to his side. He stares at me. I can feel the weight of his gaze. “Okay?”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “Let me go get cleaned up.” He stands, walking toward the bathroom. His ass is tight and perfect and I want to bite it. Maybe I can. I hope he’ll let me.