Weekend Submissive

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 12,600
0 Ratings (0.0)

From Bestselling Erotic Romance and Erotica Author Erika Masten The First Title In A New Three-Part Series

Weekend Submissive An Explicit Erotic Short Story

Brisa can’t imagine desiring anyone more than sexy, 6’4”, muscular police lieutenant Wayne Fulton. Sweet, patient, helpful, protective Wayne. Huge, towering, solid, powerful Wayne. Discovering that he has a dominant side in bed seems impossible for Brisa to reconcile with the image of the gentle man she’s so drawn to. But it also kindles unfamiliar yearnings in her that she can’t resist asking him to fulfill, if only for a few days, in a dark and consuming sexual experiment as his submissive for a single weekend.

Bonus Material: Includes excerpts from Body Worship 2: Breeding Julia and Backup: Ménage A Cop by Erika Masten.

Warning: Explicit sexual content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.

Weekend Submissive
0 Ratings (0.0)

Weekend Submissive

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 12,600
0 Ratings (0.0)
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It's rare but not unheard of for me to run into Wayne in the morning while I’m getting into my car to go to work and he’s headed out for a jog. I still haven’t shaken that wishful idea from last night, though, so seeing him so unexpectedly sets off all the physical reactions in spades. Fluttery stomach. Racing thoughts. Dry mouth. Wet pussy. He calls good morning to me and stops just behind my sensible tan sedan as I’m standing at the open driver’s side door. The navy blue sweatpants he’s wearing might not cling like a good pair of jeans, but his ass still looks amazing, and those thighs… Everything seems to flex and glow in the morning light as he stands regarding me from beneath thick black lashes, his head coyly lowered.

His gaze rakes subtly up and down my body, once, quickly, but it’s enough to make my heart leap in my chest. He looks up from my pale pink pumps. They’re the perfect shade to match the rosy plaid pencil skirt and solid pink silk blouse, all an excellent contrast to the tan I’ve acquired this summer on the local hiking trails and up at the lake with friends. Wayne flashes that grin again. “Very professional, Ms. Martin.”

I can’t help beaming at the compliment, though I manage to swallow down most of the giddy grin that rises in response. “Thank you, Officer Fulton. Putting in a few miles before work?”

Wayne shakes his head and wanders closer until, to my delight, he’s only about six inches away, looming over me. “Shift rotation. I’ve actually got Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off for the next four weeks. Only happens a couple of times a year.”

The desire to ask him out pounds inside my head like a hammer. “Welcome to weekends off,” I say instead. “Your girlfriend must be happy to have you around.” Not the dumbest thing I could have said, I realize, but close. A few extra-hard pumps from my heart become the exclamation marks at the end of that thought.

He tilts his head the other direction and stares at me pensively for a long few seconds. “Girlfriend?”

Stuttering and fumbling for words, I manage to blurt, “Sorry, I just assumed. The redhead I’ve seen you with?” The one who came after the woman with the black bob, who was after the willowy blonde. Pale and thin, tall and dark, upscale and sophisticated. He’s brought home just about everything except an athletic brunette professional.

Sucking thoughtfully on his full lower lip, Wayne nods. “Ah, you mean Tara. We’re not like that, just friends who like to hang out…”
And fuck. While living out domination fantasies. Even I’m surprised at the bitter, jealous edge to the silent response that rings out in my head.

“And blow off steam,” Wayne finishes. I glance up from my sour musings, and the look on his face makes my jaw drop so slightly open. There it is, that expression I’ve been expecting, the knowing glint in his dark gray eyes as he looks down his nose at me like a principal sizing up a naughty child. “You know what I mean, Brisa.”

That’s not a question in any way, shape, or form. Still, even with my chest constricting, crushing my pulsing heart, I resist the possibility that he knows I’ve been watching him. Surely, had he known, he wouldn’t have left the blinds open. Wouldn’t have kept up the steady, if careful flirtation with me. I mean, why would he?

I swallow hard. “I don’t…”

I don’t know what you mean, I want to say. I don’t understand. I don’t know how to finish this sentence without sounding completely insincere and giving myself away—that’s more like it.

“No?” Wayne asks, then steps closer, my face turned upward to regard him warily, his turned downward as he speaks low and confidingly.
“You don’t what, Brisa? Don’t watch other people secretly or don’t do the kinds of things you’ve seen?”

I can actually feel my eyes shoot wide and round. Is this where Wayne confronts me about my completely obsessive desire for him? Where he tells me I’m a sweet girl, but it’s just not healthy or attractive to spy on a man just because he’s handsome and playfully told me I look good? Where he suggests therapy or threatens a restraining order? I certainly couldn’t blame him. Even I think my attraction to him is crazy, too constant and consuming.

Yet the way he’s lingering near instead of distancing himself, the soft but steady eye contact, the deepness of his breathing… These don’t convey disapproval. Still looming over me like this, he seems ready to fall upon me, a powerful hunter poised above prey.

“I’m sorry,” I say at last, dragging my gaze from his as my cheeks begin to burn. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why, Brisa?” he whispers, and I feel his soft breath against my temple, stirring the loose waves of my hair. “Why watch me with other women? Did it excite you?”

“No,” I snap too readily, too loudly. I squeeze my eyes closed, imagining the lonely nights stretching out ahead of me without even the fantasy of Wayne Fulton to occupy me. More softly, sighing, I say again, “No.”

A heartbeat passes, painfully still and silent, but Wayne does not give me the cold comfort of distance.

“Was it what you saw me doing? Are you into being dominated, Brisa?”

I wish he’d quit saying my name. My cunt pulses every time he does it, like he’s touching me, seducing me from the inside out. I catch myself leaning toward him. My stiffened nipples brush his chest through our clothing, and I jerk back like I’ve felt an electrical shock. The nubs ache and throb and tingle like the shock was real. Did I imagine Wayne catching his breath at the contact?

“I’ve never been…,” I confess and then wonder why I’m being so honest. I should just apologize and get in my car and go to work. Pretend this never happened. Avoid Wayne as much as possible. Lose myself in paperwork, helping citizens understand all the convoluted laws pouring out of the capitol, being the good little public servant. When all I can think about is being with…serving this man the way I’ve seen other women please him.

“You’ve never been dominated, but it fascinates you, makes you wet. Is that it?” Wayne’s warm breath glides over my cheek and neck as his mouth inches toward my ear. In exquisite contrast, shivers run down my body like trickles of cold rain. With my eyes closed, the feeling of him towering over me intensifies. He blocks everything else out of my senses. “Do you want what you saw me doing to those other women?”

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