Body Politics by Cara Bristol

Mark remained silent, allowing her time. “I also had bigger breasts than my teacher. I was the only girl in middle school who wore a double-D bra.
    “We studied mythology in seventh grade and learned about the Amazons, how they supposedly cut off one breast so they could better shoot a bow and arrow. The kids started calling me Amazon, asking when I was going to cut off one of my tits.”
    Mark tightened his lips. Bullying led to so many problems later in life. The police department often dealt with the effects. The tormented became the tormentors, sometimes going berserk, striking out at innocent people. “I’m so sorry, Stephanie. Kids are vicious sometimes. They don’t think past the moment.”
    She smiled sadly. “I wished it had ended there, but the name followed me to high school. My senior year, there was a guy in my history class I liked.”
    Shit! He could see where this was going.
    “He was cute and friendly. I thought he liked me too.” She took a breath. “I learned the hard way he wanted to fuck an Amazon like the other boys.” Challenge flashed over the hurt in her gaze. “Are you going to spank me now for saying fuck?”
    He shook his head. He would have liked to hunt down the bastard and punch him. “No. I’m going to hold you, kiss you, and promise I’ll never call you that.” He cupped her face and brushed a kiss over her mouth. She sighed and parted her lips, but he waited until her tongue tentatively darted out before deepening the intimacy, drawing from her sweetness to feed his need to soothe her.
    Finally he lifted his head and toed off his shoes. Taking her with him, he scooted on the bed to rest against the headboard. He settled her so she stretched across his lap, her shoulders supported by his arm. He explored her feminine contours with a freedom the car’s cramped space hadn’t allowed. He delighted in the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip, the roundness of her reddened ass, the length of her thigh, the softness of her breasts.
    Spanking her had made him hard—not the act of paddling and certainly not her pain, but her submission to his authority, his trust. Yeah, that had turned him on big-time. To have this proud, courageous woman supplicate herself… How could he not get aroused? His cock signaled him with Mayday messages, but he would satisfy his desires later; this moment belonged to her.
    He swirled his thumb around her nipple and watched with fascination as the silver-dollar–size areola puckered and tightened. He tugged the nipple to a tauter peak, then bent his head and sucked gently. Stephanie arched and clutched at his neck.
    He smoothed his hand over her abdomen and toyed with her belly button. An outie. Different. Like she was.
    He wandered lower to her mons, completely bare, totally sexy. He dipped between her legs and found her wet, her folds swollen. His erection shot up another signal flare, demanding he sink into her, but he desired more to hold her, watch her come undone. Watch her come. He studied her face.
    Her mouth was slightly parted, her eyes dazed.
    “I like your naked pussy,” he said.
    Her gaze sharpened. “Oh, thank you,” she retorted smartly.
    “Is that sass I hear?” He swirled a finger around her clit.
    “And what if it is?”
    Yep, sass. He slipped a finger into her channel and nearly groaned at the tightness, the wetness. His cock was frantic to get his attention now. “I might have to take matters into my hands.” He inserted a second finger.
    “I think you already have.” Her muscled walls clenched.
    He released a bark of laughter. “You could be right.” He fucked her slowly with his fingers, continuing to stimulate her clit with his thumb. A sexual flush stole over her cheeks and breasts, coloring them to a pink much lighter than her ass, but just as pretty.
    Her face scrunched with concentration. “Mark…” Her body jerked under his touch. “What about… I feel… Shouldn’t I be doing something for