The Naughty Pleasures Bundle (Naughty Pleasures: Volume 1/Naughty Pleasures: Volume 2/Naughty Pleasures: Volume 3)

THE NAUGHTY PLEASURES BUNDLE

Nine Short Erotic Tales

NAUGHTY PLEASURES VOLUME 1

NAUGHTY PLEASURES VOLUME 2

NAUGHTY PLEASURES VOLUME 3

Abbie Cole

THE NAUGHTY PLEASURES BUNDLE

Copyright © 2012 by Abbie Cole

Cover design by Abbie Cole

Kindle Edition, License notes

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real person, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

To behave in an inappropriate way

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE SWING

THE ALLEY

THE RELEASE

GHOSTLY ORGASMS

SATISFIED

MY WORK FUCK BUDDY

SWALLOWING THE GRAVY

THEIR NAUGHTY MÉNAGE

DADDY’S NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL

THE SWING

“
A Swing!” I stopped before a padded bench, two people wide suspended from a cast-iron stand set under a large weeping willow tree in a secluded edge of the immense lawn. “What a neat idea. It must be new.”

“
I’ve got an idea.” Jonathan stopped beside me. I notice a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“
What if we’re interrupted? Again.
By the others
.” He is one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen.

“
We won’t be. I can assure you they won’t notice we’re gone—they’re otherwise occupied. We can do whatever we please, and right now, what pleases me is to
do
you.” He made the last phrase a challenge, a dare.

I moisten my lips. “How, then?”

Drawing me to him I encouragingly obey, with an aloof air, as if reserving judgment on his expertise. A subtle taunting, an encouragement to impress. Suppressing a smile of anticipation, he lowers his head and covers my lips.

Kissing me until I’d forgotten all notion of aloofness, I cling, my lips to his, my arms about his shoulders, my hands sink into his hair.

“
Take off your dress.” He orders. Murmuring the words against my slightly parted lips, he takes my mouth again, dragging my willing senses down into the heat of the kiss. Into the fire and flames that so steadily burn between us.

I know he is way more experienced than me. In my limited experience, it has never been like this—never been such a simple, easy, rapid descent into ravenous desire. Into a primitive place, a place where the need to be possessed rules absolutely. With him, it has never been any other way, which is how I’d known, from the first. I know that, ultimately, I would sell my very soul for him, if that’s what was asked.

Being in his arms, I don’t care; with my body arching, flagrantly demanding against his, I know only the need to appease him, to feed and satisfy my hungry senses and, thus, his.

As he tugs up my short, soft cotton dress, I whimper. Delightful shivers race to my pussy. I know exactly what he wants to see, needs to see, from me today. What he wants, needs—has to have. We are both breathing rapidly, both dark-eyed, tense with expectation.

“
Lift your arms.”

Drawing the dress off over my head, it leaves my short spiky hair, standing even more on end. His eyes glued on my body, concealed only by my demi-cup, push-up bra showing my full breasts to advantage above the hot pink silk and a tiny scrap of silk barely concealing the treasure hidden between my thighs; blindly, he tosses my dress onto the ground nearby. I feel his hand at my back, unfastening my bra. And now he reaches for me.

I come eagerly this time, no pretense of aloofness necessary; my desire for him is the most important thought swirling around in my head. I want everything he is going to give me. My intense need for him glitters in my eyes, my lips lift again to his.

He closes his hands around my waist. I rejoice in the power of his hands as he slides them down to my hips and gathers me to him. He molds me against him so I can feel his desire, and moans, rocking my hips against the iron length of his erection. I all but melt in his arms, my body softens, enticingly.

A small moan parts my lips as his tongue rakes over my lower lip, gently sucking it into his mouth, nipping at my swollen flesh. I kiss him back, and set aside all reservations. I can care less if we are interrupted. Let them watch. I want him; he wants me—for this precise moment, that is enough. I need to be with him again, close, skin on skin, so our hearts beat together and our pulses pound as sweat soaks our heated bodies.

His hands, roving over me, sets my skin on fire, then glide lower; I hear a tear as he yanks the silk from my hips, the slight hint of pain as the ripping silk bites into my hip before breaking free, his palms on bare skin, fondling, kneading my firm, round ass, gripping with his strong hands. His long fingers slide down and inward to stroke the drenched cleft between my legs, caress my plump pink lips. Running his forefinger around my opening, he opens me, testing, pressing in to my glistening channel. My pussy clenches around his finger as he slides his finger in and out in masterful strokes, coaxing pleasure from every inch of my body.

Drinking in my gasp through our kiss, he takes in my breath as he strokes and probes. Drawing back from the kiss, he withdraws his hands from me. One still remaining on my hip, he steadies me, the other slips between us; I feel him fiddling at his waist, looking down, I move my hands down his chest, brush his hands away and cup the huge bulge in his jeans. I deal with the zipper and rip open his jeans; my lips curve as I lay him bare. His cock engorged and erect buoyed in front of him, jutting from the nest of trimmed pubic hair at the base.

I swallow, easing the dryness in my throat, wetting my lips as I fill my hand with his rock-hard cock and start pumping his smooth length, rubbing my thumb over the crown of his cock spreading the drop of pre-come over the tip. I hear his raspy breathing as he sucks in, feel him tense. His hardened flesh grows even harder with each stroke of my hand. I feel his breath growing labored. I close my hand firmly. Marveling at the contrast of velvety softness enclosing such potent, patently masculine strength, I allow my nails to gently score upward.

I repeat the torture three times before he carefully disengages; for just a moment, I question if he is breathing. Until he begins stepping back and sitting on the swing, urging me to follow. “Are you ready for my big, hard cock?”

My mouth opening, all I can do is nod.

“
Kneel astride.”

I don’t argue, not questioning because I am desperate to feel his hard cock. I submit sweetly to his commands. Putting one knee up, now the other, I feel the damask cushion under both knees, straddling his muscular thighs. I wrap my arms around his neck, tilt my head and set my lips to his, shifting ever so closer, until my stomach meets the hard wall of his abdomen, sliding sensuously down. The touch of his clothes, rough against my soft skin, is a reminder of my nakedness and his relatively clothed state.

He ravages my mouth and urges me lower. His hand is beneath me, guiding me, guiding the head of his erection into the softness of my swollen labia drenched with my juices. I feel its touch, feel the strength as he presses in just a little, just past the constriction. My lungs seize and I stop, then, slowly, slowly—as slowly as I can—I ease fraction by fraction down, taking him in, glorying in the pressure, the fullness, the ease with which my body adjusts, then closes eagerly about him.

I don’t stop until I impale myself fully. I can’t breathe. My skin alive, heated, nerves flickering.

Now he captures my mouth, his tongue thrusting deep, fracturing my attention. Mouth and teeth scrape. I feel his thigh, beneath mine, flexing.

The swing begins to rock.

Sensations wash through me. Surprisingly, I cling, as I press closer, I feel his hands on my legs, urging me to wrap them around his hips. The heat of his body washes over me, engulfs me; something primitive prowls just behind his mask.

I do, and he is now even deeper inside me; the sensations intensify, driven by the swing, by the increasing momentum. The swing is well oiled, well balanced; the occasional push from Jonathan’s foot is enough to keep us whooshing gently back and forth.

Which one of us started the dance, I am not sure, layering one rhythm atop another, matching an effortless thrust and withdrawal to the swing’s motion. Amplifying the effect, I control it, using my arms to ease myself up, using my locked legs as leverage. Once I have the rhythm established, our bodies are merging freely, deeply, in absolute harmony, his hands leave my hips, moving over my skin, caressing, knowingly stroking, igniting a million small fires that slowly, gradually, coalesce into a blaze, an inferno.

A vortex of heat and movements sweep us up and send them whizzing dizzily back down, it snatches our breath, pressing pleasure and yet more pleasure upon us, through us, one to the other, then back again.

The ultimate give-and-take, the epitome of sharing.

As I cling, my lips mold with his, my mouth all his, as is my body. I can feel Jonathan give himself up to this, to me, to what he now needs beyond all else.

This is what I had wanted today, this complete, unreserved giving. My legs, naked, wrapped around his hips, his hands on my skin, are able to touch and savor as he wishes. My body, slick, hot, all but molten, encloses him, clamps down as the swing descends, easing as it swings up again. Open and generous and his.

Again, and again, and again.

The powerful repetition for once beyond his control holds me captive, holding my senses in unparalleled delight. Until we fracture.

I shatter in his arms, my cry muted by our kiss; he follows, shooting his seed deep within. As the swing slows and I catch my breath, his arms hold me. My head falls forward against his chest. “Ohhh.”

The power that had flowed, briefly but so powerfully, that had so effortlessly fused us not just in this world but beyond it, is undeniable.

I drag in a breath; my lungs are still too tight. He nuzzles the curls around my ears and sets the swing in motion once again.

A shiver of ecstasy spirals through me. Eyes widen, I stare as his hands rise to close once again around my breasts. Inside, I feel him stir, strengthen, grow fatter with each sway of the swing.

Then he pushes harder. His fingers close tight around my nipples. My lids fall. “Good God!” My body responds eagerly to his expert touch.

Cupping my breasts gently in his large hands, I writhe in torment as his tongue swirls around my taut nipple. I arch my back into him pushing my breasts even more deeply into his mouth. His abrasive tongue rasps, licking until it is a hard, aching pebble.

“
Please, Jonathan.” I rock, moving onto my knees for more leverage. Warm heat slithers down my spine, liquid heat pools in my pussy.

He glances up, his eyes lock with mine, he grunts, thrusting his hips up, moving his cock deep in me at the same time pressing my breasts together while biting and tonguing my tightly furled nipples.

I gasp as his strong hands suddenly leave my breasts to grip my waist, assisting with the lifting and lowering of my body over his straining shaft. I pant, my clit throbs, the sensations of the trail of hair from his navel to his groin rub against my swollen nub enhancing the tremors of pleasure shooting through my body as his cock throbs inside of me.