Tempting Escape Read online

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  Whiskey Creek Press

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  Copyright ©2005 by WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  TEMPTING ESCAPE

  by

  Heather McVey

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  www.whiskeycreekpress.com

  Published by

  WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  www.whiskeycreekpresstorrid.com

  Copyright ©

  2005 by Heather McVey

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 1-59374-453-6

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston

  Editor: Giovanna Lagana

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my mother, Jennifer, who gave a little girl the courage to believe that she was capable of doing anything.

  Chapter 1

  October, 2004

  London, England

  "Why in the world am I really doing this?” Shelly Blake grumbled to herself as she sorted through the clothes that she would take with her on her honeymoon. I must be mad, she thought, recalling the times that Ted had cheated on her with other women in the past. She reminded herself, with a determined tilt of her chin, that he had changed recently. Hadn't he? Annoyed with herself, she pushed aside the doubts which rocked her. Of course he'd changed. Why else would she be marrying him?

  Just for some reassurance, she glanced at the cream wedding dress, which had belonged to both her grandmother and her mother before her, with its puffed sleeves hanging on the outside door of the wardrobe. She then turned her attention to the pile of clothes before her. She had something new and something old, what else did she need? Ah, that was it, something blue. Picking up a faded pair of blue panties, she shoved them in the old, shabby, brown suitcase sitting on her white bedspread. She snapped the lid shut before the already bursting seams had a chance to protest and spill their load.

  What now? she asked herself. Dressed only in a loose-fitting black cardigan, a bottle of red wine in one hand and a glass in the other, she strolled to the window and looked out across the deserted local park. It was a plot of land on the street corner, scattered with trees and holding a thick maze of rosebushes near the centre. There were a few swings, a slide, a seesaw, and three battered animals on springs that bobbed one back and forth drunkenly, until the backside grew too sore to sit on them.

  As a little girl, Shelly had loved the park. Later, as a teenager, she'd often sat on her favorite bench and watched the children at play as a form of escape. She felt lonely and unsure, in spite of the fact she was getting married tomorrow. She wasn't sure, if the truth be told, that she wasn't making yet another mistake in a line of many.

  As her worried eyes roved over the park, she could have really used the lilting laughter of the children to soothe her, but the ferocious rain thudding against the windowpane had kept even the most rowdy children, along with their watchful mothers, away. From her centrally heated bedroom, she could see that a vicious wind was beginning to pick up outside. It was evident in the thunderous sway of the trees and the clouds, which blew quickly across the laden sky. She sighed wearily and prayed for sunshine come the morrow. With slender fingers, she drew the curtains and lay back on the single bed she had slept in as a child. Next, she picked up the silver-framed picture of Ted that had sat by her bedside for as long as she could remember. Almost shyly, she touched the colored image with her forefinger. He was a handsome man, she decided, her intended, with his remarkable fair hair and grey eyes. He was also a good lover, fantastic in bed, actually.

  Shelly could admit to herself if to no one else, that was half the reason why she was marrying him—that and because she loved him, of course. Her thighs clamped and throbbed, remembering the last time they had made love. It had been outside in a sun-drenched cornfield with the sun beating down on their warm, slippery bodies. Just thinking about it now, several X-rated thoughts ran through her mind.

  Tonight there would be no lovemaking because it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Shelly didn't believe in traditions, but her mother and the older women in her family were adamant that the customs had to be obeyed. Sipping at her wine, she cursed the foolish traditions under her breath. It annoyed the hell out of her that she couldn't even invite her fiancé over to make love to him; since her pussy was wet and in need of a little release. She sighed, sometimes, well most of the time, the little horny organ between her legs had to be obeyed.

  And so it was that she obeyed it now.

  Putting aside her glass, Shelly pushed her hand under her panties and gave way to the fantasy building in her mind. It was one that she frequently had; although the time and the location often changed, the muscular, blue-eyed man never did. She creamed her fingers, imagining her dream lover. He would be opposite in looks from Ted—tall, dark, handsome, and maybe just a little bit dangerous. At five foot two, she was small, so her head would barely reach to his chest. He'd have to pick her up to kiss her fully on the mouth. He'd be a big, possessive, protective man ... a man she could lean on. A man who could snap her in two if he so wished it.

  Her pussy cried, and her inner muscles contracted tightly against an imaginary penis. Shelly's smile turned mildly wicked, he'd know how to navigate the curves of a woman, particularly her curves. Sometimes he would be a tender, gentle lover with candlelight and soft caresses. At other times, sex with him would be a wild rollercoaster ride that left her sore, tired, and satisfied beyond reason.

  Closing her eyes, she decided that he'd start out kissing her softly. His body would be muscled, sleek, and always ready to please her.

  Her nipples stiffened in the warm room.

  He would be wearing a leather mask and nothing else, holding a whip in one hand and a black velvet blindfold in the other.

  In her fantasy, Shelly gasped as his mouth descended and he sucked her nipple in. Both a playful and dominant lover, he pushed her down to the floor and gave her nipple a quick bite, then he switched his attention to the other aching bud. Giving that one just the right amount of suction, he set off a burst of fiery sensation in and around her groin, leaving her body shaking and demanding more.

  She skimmed her fingers over the rippling muscles of his wide shoulders ... his chest ... his ridged belly. He used his hands too, sliding his long, callused fingers over her bottom, her back, and the incredibly sensitive spot beneath her chin. And oh, yesss. Now he'd found her clit and was rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. God, yessss.

  Her pussy clenched, her pulse raced as he pressed his erection against her pubic mound. God, how she wanted to taste him, to swallow all of his salty desire. His mouth replaced his fingers and he nibbled her clit and licked her with long, wet, flicks of his tongue. Then, he brutally t
hrust her ankles apart. He was so big, so powerful, and so incredibly masculine.

  It both aroused and scared her.

  When he kissed her, she could taste the muskiness of her own desire on his sensual lips. Taking two pieces of leather cord, he bound her wrists above her head and tied her ankles to a radiator, so that she was lying before him with her legs spread, completely naked and helpless on the wooden floor. Her skin tingled with anticipation. What would he do to her next?

  Moistening his hands in a bucket of warm water, he ran them deliciously over her body. Across her shoulders, down her arms, up over her breasts and down her legs. Now and again, he pinched her tender flesh just hard enough to make her pussy thrum. Then, plunging his hands in a bucket full of ice-cold water, he ran them over her body. Shelly shivered. His cool hands against her warm flesh sent chills coursing down her spine right into the centre of her pea-sized hard-on. The sensation of his rough skin rubbing up against her softness drove her to distraction.

  Before she could moan, he slid across her body and claimed her lips.

  Shelly gasped in pleasure into his mouth as his tongue did the most wicked things to hers. Her head spun at the intense kiss, of his hot breath mingling with hers.

  His lips left hers, and he trailed his tongue over her skin, searing a path to her throat where he made teasing circles over her collarbone, her earlobe, her neck.

  Next, he picked up a black vibrator, almost as huge as his straining erection and ran the head of it up and down her thigh. Shelly shivered more from anticipation now than actual fear. Her pussy was wet, the moisture clinging uncomfortably between her legs. She desperately wanted to feel his rock-hard cock pumping in and out of her.

  She wanted him to fuck her, oh, so badly.

  She gasped and strained against the bonds that held her, as he moved the vibrator slowly in and out of the sensitive lips of her pussy. Then, he bent and swiveled his hot tongue over her creamy centre. He pushed her puckered lips apart with his fingers and plunged his firm tongue inside. He licked her wet slit back and forth, then bit down on the swollen nub of her clit. Before she could react, he delved two thick fingers into her, one into the wetness of her pussy and the other into her anus. Shelly gasped and cried out as an orgasm ripped wildly through her.

  Her entire body came awake with sweet expectation as he blindfolded her and moved over her. For a moment, she felt the furriness of him against her thigh, then he was entering her and there was nothing gentle about it. She moaned and cried out. The leather cut more firmly into her wrists while he gripped her buttocks and moved back and forth over her. Plunging his stiff cock into her over and over again, with a force and an urgency that rocked her world. In no time, her body was soaked with perspiration. He was rough and hard, and she loved it!

  On the bed, Shelly's panties were drenched with her desire. She was almost ... almost there. He flipped her over so she was facing the floor, the wood cool against her achy nipples. There was a loud crack, and then a whizzing sound as the whip connected with her bare buttocks. She gritted her teeth as the whip connected a second, then a third time, with her tender flesh. She felt the sliver of his tongue working along each tender abrasion. The feeling of his tongue against her tingling, injured skin was highly arousing. Parting her thighs, he lay over her so that his weight was pushing her down firmly against the unyielding floor. He took the vibrator and plunged it into her pussy, then he moved the big purple head of his arousal to her anus and then...

  Just as she was about to climax for real, her cell phone rang.

  "Ugh!” she said, pulling her fingers from her panties. Whoever it was, it had better be darn important.

  Disorientated, she opened her eyes. The rain was still thudding against the window in a rapid grey staccato. Grumbling, Shelly jumped from the bed and pulled the slim flip-phone out of her beaded bag.

  Her golden brows drew down in a frown. It was dead. It bleeped again, signalizing a message. Quickly, her fingers flicked over the control. Her lips curved in an impish smile. The text was from Ted; he was coming over. He wasn't going to stay the whole night, so he didn't see how it could bring them bad luck. Neither did Shelly. She closed her phone with a snap. Pulling open her underwear drawer, she rummaged through it, picked out a sexy, lilac thong and headed for the shower.

  Chapter 2

  Precisely twenty-two hours later, Ted waited outside the ancient church in Ambry Lane, London. The church's tall spiral, a relic of the old Abby, which had once stood on the very same hilly slope, reached impressively towards the heavens. But Ted, who loathed ancient buildings of any sort, spared it only the occasional glance. He was immersed in his own brooding thoughts, ignoring the impressive spiral completely, which was all that remained of the beautiful Fresco-painted Abby that had been burned during the Viking's bloody conquest into England. He sighed completely, at a loss. Looking at the green grass beneath his shiny black shoes, and then to the little cemetery to his right, where oak leaves swirled among the rows of granite headstones, he wished to no avail for another fire.

  It seemed the only thing that could get him out of this crazy wedding, he'd somehow, under the influence and filled with drink, got himself into.

  The soft afternoon breeze ruffled the slight curl in his ash-blonde hair. As the ancient oaks rocked and swayed gently against a backdrop of hazy grey sky, he pulled at his bow-tie restlessly. He felt trapped, like a caged animal. He felt nervous and contained with nowhere to run to. He still couldn't believe it; he was getting married. In less than an hour, he'd be a married man. It still hadn't sunk in. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. Pulling a handkerchief from his navy suit jacket, he wiped at it. Looking up, one of the bridesmaids, the petite redhead, with the flaming locks, caught his eye.

  She was a nice piece of skirt, he thought as he studied her appraisingly.

  What was her name again? Ted, ignoring the nervous churning of his gut tried to remember as she sauntered towards him, big tits and hips undulating. He'd had her only a week ago, in the backseat of his sleek Mercedes, yet he couldn't for the life of him remember it. What a ride that had been—when he closed his eyes he could still remember the velvety hot tightness of her ass gripping his cock.

  "Hey there,” she purred in her throaty, Sussex accent.

  "Hey yourself,” he replied coolly, giving her a dazzling smile. No woman had ever been able to resist that smile and the little redhead was no exception. She laughed foolishly, coquettishly smoothing an imaginary crease from her dress. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, Ted made small talk to an elderly couple that passed him on their way up to the church. They must belong to his intended, he supposed, before returning his attention to the dishy delight before him.

  His cock stiffened, as his body let him know that it would definitely appreciate having her again.

  A moment later, still unable to recall the woman's name, Ted studied her as she looked around the dimly lit interior of one of the two unused wooden confessional boxes. He had always had a soft spot for redheads, and this one in particular had a figure tempting enough to entice any man. Some might call it fat, but Ted would rather think of it as lush. Fleshy and rounded, that was how he liked his women.

  A wry smile twisted his lips, he'd been trying to fatten up his intended to no avail for what seemed like forever, even after a decade, his bride-to-be was still as slender as a girl.

  "So, why did you bring me in here, Teddy Bear?” the woman before him asked boldly, bringing him back to the present. Ted watched as she shook the soft raindrops from her dress, while her hair tumbled around her pale face and her blue eyes portrayed keenly her need for him.

  "Oh, come on, darling,” He closed the umbrella she'd used to protect her coif from the drizzle, and placed it against the wall. “You know exactly why I brought you here."

  She ran her tongue along crimson-painted lips. “Do I now?"

  "Yes, you do.” Ted grinned, his grey eyes crinkling at the corners, the only real sign that he was in his mi
d-thirties. He leaned over her. “I'm going to fuck you,” he said, separating the words, drawing them out with husky emphasis. “And you, my little redheaded beauty queen, are going to beg for more while my cock's splitting your fanny apart.” He gripped her hair and pulled her towards him. With a delighted giggle, she pushed her ample curves against his toned body.

  Ted pulled her bridesmaid dress off of her freckled shoulders, giving a male grunt of satisfaction as her breasts were bared before him. They were huge; two enormous globes, veined in blue, and with areolas as wide as the circle one would draw around a wineglass. First cupping one, then the other, he marveled at their weight. Bending his head, he ran his tongue around her puckered, pink nipple. Next, he pushed her petticoats aside until he found what he was looking for, her pussy.

  Pushing a finger beneath her panties, he slid it between her lips. As he had hoped, she was warm and wet for him, making access easy. He slid another finger into her. As she gasped and bucked against him, he had a strong urge to screw her ass. But he was in the House of God after all, and he supposed what he was doing was bad enough to earn him a few frowns from the Big Man, himself. Nevertheless, his erection was throbbing and unbearable. Still pleasuring her, he unzipped his pants and gently lowered her to her knees.

  "Now I ... I really do feel like I'm praying,” she said breathlessly, grinning.

  Ted chuckled, then in the space of a heartbeat, turned serious again. “Do your godly duty then, and suck me off, darling."

  "I'll say amen to that, brother,” she mumbled, her nose buried in the curls of his honey-colored pubic hair.

  Aching for relief, Ted raised her head towards his swollen cock and she took it without complaint. Her mouth on his engorged flesh was warm and tight. He knew from the way she swirled her tongue over, then around the tip of his hard shaft, that she was no virgin when it came to blow-jobs. A glance at his wristwatch told him that he had precisely fifteen minutes until he had to say, “I do". If he was going to fuck her, then he must do it soon.