Page 92 of Alonzo

And then I smack her again.

But before she can protest my finger begins to play with her clit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - TARA

Even after two years of dirty phone fucks, I would never have pegged Lonnie for a spanker.

But his alter ego, Alonzo? One look at that dude and you just know he gets off on cherry-red ass cheeks.

My skin is hot from the sting of his hand. And I don’t have to see my ass to know those cheeks are most definitely red.

But when his fingers slip between my legs and press up inside me, I begin to forget all about the sting. And the pad of his fingertip rubbing my clit in a small circular motion almost makes me lose myself in the pleasure.

“That’s better, my sunshine.”

He’s been calling me sunshine ever since we started talking on the phone two years ago. It wasn’t because of my disposition or my face. Because he had only seen one obscure profile pic back then. No, he said it was because of my voice. He said it reminded him of a bright sunny day on the beach. And every time he came home from work and got to hear my voice, he pictured a day at the beach.

That’s what he used to say. Tara, talking to you is like spending a day at the beach.

His fingers withdraw and his hand comes down on my ass one more time. For a moment all I feel is hard, stinging heat. But then he’s massaging me again. My ass cheek is gently rubbed with the palm of his hand. And his other hand traces a line up my spine, starting in the small of my back and continuing all the way up to the back of my neck. Then over the top of my head until his thumb gently caresses a circle between my eyes.

My whole body tingles with these disparate sensations happening on opposite ends of my body.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

I almost laugh. “Not a chance.”

“Liar. You’re dozing off right now.”

“It’s your fault I’m so relaxed. I thought you were punishing me?”

“This is all part of my evil plan.”

I giggle. “Is it?”

“Yeah. Because now you know how skilled I am at making you feel good. I could fire you, Miss Sunshine. I could boot your ass out the door at any time. And then you’d spend the rest of your life wishing for one more chance at Mr. Derringer’s firm.”

I know this is a game and he’s only saying that to kinda stay in character, but this imagery works. What if he kicked me out of his life? What if this doesn’t work out? Will I think back on this day and wish for a second chance?

“Get up, Tara. And sit in my lap.”

I can’t tell if we’re still playing the game or not, but it no longer matters. I want to follow this command—without question or hesitation—because I know there’s a reward for me at the end.

I get up, turn towards him, and place both hands on the curve of his muscular shoulders. Then straddle his lap and lower myself down onto his legs.

His eyes track down to my pussy. He unconsciously licks his lips and then raises his gaze to land on mine. His eyes are catching the light from a low-level lamp in the corner of the room, making them look gold for a moment. I want to get lost in those eyes. I want to dive into them and live in his soul.

“Play with yourself, Tara. Show me where it feels good.”

But I do him one better. I take his fingers and guide them to the sweet spot between my legs, never taking my eyes from his. I begin to use his fingers to rub myself, pushing them down a little so the tips can slip inside me and scoop up some of my glistening wet juices. Then I bring them back up to my clit and resume.

He takes my hand—never letting his gaze wander from mine—and begins to rub his long, thick shaft. It’s lying across his stomach. A long, fat cock that makes me tingle with anticipation when I wrap my hand around it and squeeze.

His hand wraps around mine and begins to move up and down. Guiding me in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He tightens his grip just as I push his fingers up inside me and use them to fuck myself.

I jerk him a little harder but he grips my hand and forces me to slow down.

“What’s wrong?” I coo. “Getting a little too excited?”