Tit for Tat part 2

Over the next few weeks Sands was occupied out-maneuvering and fomenting intrigue (he was, after all, here to work, not to get laid) but his mind kept returning to her.
On the seventeenth day since their last meeting he detoured down her street on his way to the cantina and slid a folded note under her apartment door. The note suggested (though it was so brief and curt he supposed it could be read as a demand) a liaison the following evening. He'd tried to come across as casual and commanding rather than needy and submissive, but wasn't sure how well he'd succeeded. She'd either show up or she wouldn't. If she didn't, he'd just have to get a bit more heavy-handed.
The thing was, the thing he found so difficult to get out of his head (both of them) lately, she owed him. He'd never taken his turn in this little arrangement, and he intended to remedy that. He didn't think she'd actually refuse him, but he was prepared to be insistent. He could be very insistent when the need arose.
He imagined exactly how he'd have to punish her for any balking as he jerked off that night, with explosive results. Jesus, just the thought of it! He felt like a bull in rut.
She showed up at 7:06, just as he was finishing his second beer. He was almost disappointed. Oh well, not as if he needed a reason to play rough.
"Hello," she said, as she slid into the chair opposite him. No "how have you been" or "good to see you." Not that he expected any such banter; they were merely lovers, fuck-buddies, nothing as intimate as friends.
"Hi." He took a drag off his cigarette and raised an index finger to the waiter, who rushed over. Sands might not tip well, or at all, but he always got excellent service regardless. He suspected his reputation among the food service industry might have something to do with that.
"Dos cervesas, por favor," he said. "Mucho frios, si?" His Spanish sucked, he took absolutely no pains over pronunciation or grammar, but he never had a problem making himself understood, and no-one ever laughed, not to his face anyway. Good for them.
"Si, si Senor," blurted the boy, nodding vigorously and hurrying off to fill the order.
She watched the exchange with dry amusement. "They're afraid of you," she commented after the boy had left.
"As well they should be," he replied, as the icy beers were set down before them. "Jesus," he muttered, looking after the departing waiter, "that was so quick I'd be tempted to think he had them up his ass if they weren't so cold."
"I'm not," she said, "Afraid of you I mean. Though maybe I should be."
"Maybe." He smiled, crushed out his cigarette and drank. She was wearing a dress of black lace, very low cut and tight in all the right places. She raised her bottle and pressed it to her throat, rivulets of cold water ran down and wet her breasts. "It's so hot tonight," she sighed.
"Yes," he concurred, his eyes on her cleavage, "it certainly is."
She reached across the table and lifted the lapel of his jacket to read the tee-shirt beneath. Fuck Nice.
"Do you?"
"Do I what?" he asked.
"Fuck nice," she replied. "When you're not tied down, I mean."
"No," he said, a slight smile playing around his lips. "Not remotely. I fuck nasty."
"Hmmm." She examined his face carefully for a moment, then looked away to watch the passersby.
"Ready?" she asked after they'd finished their drinks in silence.
"You've no idea," he said and slapped a handful of currency on the table.
As they walked the few blocks to her place an obviously drunk man began weaving his way towards them and slurred out a lewd business proposition to her in Spanish.
"Fuck off, buddy," Sands ordered, and placed a proprietary hand on the back of her neck. She flinched, whether from his touch or from the man's indecent proposal, he couldn't tell.
The drunk mumbled an obscene insult at him and continued on his way. Sands seriously considered turning around and putting a bullet in the bastard, just on general principles, but he was in a hurry. Your lucky day, motherfucker, he thought.
The feel of her skin under his fingers was exciting him madly. For all they'd done, he'd never touched her like this before. He'd touch her tonight alright, however he wanted to.
He moved his hand slowly and firmly on her neck as they walked and after a few yards, she closed her eyes, sighed, and arched back into his grip. Christ, he thought, this is going to be so fucking good!
"Hurry up," he hissed as they reached the door.
"Haven't you learned the benefits of delayed gratification yet?" she teased while sliding the key into the lock.
"Learned it very well," he said, "but tonight I'm the teacher, sugar-snatch." He ran his hand down her back to caress her ass. "Time for tat."
She opened the door and they went in. "I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to claim your turn."
He kicked the door closed behind them and seized her, rubbing his palm over her breast and lifting her skirt. "How does that make you feel?" he panted. "Me being the one in control. The one doing things to you?"
Her pulse was quick, her pupils dilated. "Apprehensive," she said.
He pushed her panties aside and slipped a finger into her. She moaned deep in her throat.
"Is that what you call it?" he whispered, his breath hot in her ear as he moved his fingers in her. "You're dripping, darling." Her breath sped up and she opened her legs wider. He withdrew his hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to the couch.
"Get on your knees," he growled. "Suck me." He fell back onto the leather and she knelt between his open legs and began undoing his pants. Sands watched her, his eyes dark and his respiration heavy. When his cock was free, she stroked it gently and ran her tongue up and down its length, then circled the head before taking it into her mouth. "Harder," he gasped, "deeper. Yeah, like that. Good." The last word came out as a sigh, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She drew him in deeply, sucking strongly and tonguing his head, jacking his base with a slick, tight hand. With her other hand, she was doing that thing to his balls. He groaned loudly and began pumping his hips. He placed a hand on the back of her neck and felt her jaw and throat working. "That's it, honey-cunt, make me come, oh shit, yeah, do it, take it in the mouth..." he trailed off, breathless, as his climax overtook him. He thrust upwards, deep into her throat, and spasmed, pouring out. She gulped, almost gagged, and drank him in.
"Jesus," he groaned. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and pulled himself up straight. "That was pretty good. Good enough for a reward maybe. A small one." He wasn't smiling, and she, taking her cue from him, gazed up at him solemnly. "In the bedroom," he said, and stood up. He pushed her down the hall ahead of him and waited while she got the cuffs and cords from the dresser. She undressed as he watched and stood naked before him. "Lie down. Spread 'em." He did smile now; sounding like a cop always cracked him up. His smile evaporated when she complied. He grew suddenly serious and began slowly binding her to the bed.
When he was done, when she was bound and helpless, he stood over her and began trailing a hand softly over her body. Her breasts, her belly, her thighs. She moaned and strained into his touch. He looked down on her and brought his hand to her pussy, driving a finger in and toying with her clit with his thumb. She made an animal sound and thrust herself upwards. He removed his thumb and pumped her deep and hard with his finger until he had her open mouthed and gasping.
"Are you trying to give me another boner?" he asked thickly.
"Yes," she breathed.
"It's working." He took off his jacket and tee shirt, tossed them aside, then unbuttoned and stepped out of his pants. He slid naked into the bed beside her and propped his head on his hand. He stroked his other hand over her breasts, tracing their shape and passing over the nipples slowly. "Very nice."
She sighed and turned her head towards him, her lips parted, eyes closed.
"Now, about that little reward." He leaned forward and kissed her right nipple softly, then flicked his tongue over it several times. He reached across her and began stroking and gently pinching her other nipple, still licking and sucking.
"Oh, god," she groaned, and raised her pelvis off the bed.
"No coming out of turn, Sweetcheeks," he whispered, and moved his hand down to probe her cunt. She began panting harshly as he pushed his middle finger into her and cried out when he dragged it up slowly alongside her clit.
"Don't you dare," he warned, raising his head and looking at her face, his hand resting on her belly. Her eyes were open now, glazed with pleasure.
"Then you'd better not do that again," she said breathlessly.
"I'll do," he countered, punctuating his words with strokes of her labia that made her squirm, "what I fucking please. And you will not come until I say so. A little taste of your own medicine. In fact..." He pushed himself up and knelt between her legs. Bending down, he started laying soft kisses on her inner thighs, barely brushing her skin. He moved inward slowly, nibbling at her outer lips, finally snaking his tongue inside her. She was shaking, and when he glanced up, he saw a silent tear running down her cheek.
"Beg me, baby," he said, not unkindly, and barely touched her clitoris with pursed lips.
"Oh please, god, please, I can't stand it! it feels so....oh my god, so fucking good it hurts!"
He rose up over her and brought the head of his cock to her opening. He forced his way inside her inch by inch, biting his lip and clenching the covers to either side of her head. When he was three-quarters of the way in, he slammed the rest of the way home, rocking the bed.
"Jesus, YES!" she screamed, "Fuck me harder, hurt me!" She was pulling against her bonds and bucking under him. He pounded into her again and again and now she was crying out with every thrust. His tempo and force increased, and her cries merged into one long wail. When she began coming around him, he drove into her as deeply and hard as he could, bit her, hard, on the neck, and came with her.
"You're bleeding," he observed after he had fallen off of her and lay on his back beside her. He reached out and gently wiped it away with two fingers. "I didn't mean to do that."
"It's ok," she said softly.
He got up and released her, tossing the cuffs and cords onto the dresser. He gathered up his clothes and dressed. "Well," he said when he was done, "I suppose we've fullfiled our little contract. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, honey-cunt, but I have places to go and people to do." He approached the bed and bent over her, pulling the covers up to her chin and planting a dry kiss on her forehead.
"Come back sometime," she murmured. "Next time is my turn."
"I'll think about it," he said as he opened the bedroom door. "You'd better believe it." He turned back scanning the floor, picked up her panties from the floor at the foot of the bed, pocketed them, and smiled.
Then he left, walking through the dark, dusty, dangerous streets without fear or hurry. Life was sometimes so good it hurt.