Aladdin (New Modern Wicked Fairy Tales) Read online

  “What do you think?” she whispered huskily. “A nice little spot t-to.…”

  He smiled and placed his thumb on her clit, massaging steadily. She moaned and rocked, words lost. Then her hips jutted violently, and her moan turned almost to a scream. He glanced toward the estate, the lights distant from here, hoping no one had heard. Bart felt his fingers drenched with juice as her body jerked uncontrollably. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

  “Oh God.” Libby sighed, putting both hands on Bart’s head, as if she barely had the strength to keep standing. “No one has been able to do that to me before with just their hand. Bart, you beast—you just fucked me in my girdle!”

  He chuckled as he withdrew his hand completely. “You know, I think you’re right. When women become more modern, they’ll wear pants. No more corsets or girdles. Ah, but what a pity.”

  “A pity? Why?” She was still breathless.

  “I think all this tight underwear keeps a woman bottled up. It holds her passion all inside, so when it does finally come out, it’s like an explosion...” Bart stood, and Libby fell forward gratefully into his arms.

  “I thought you were going to talk about easier access.”

  “Yes, there’s that.” He smiled, taking her by the shoulders. Her head rolled back slightly, and she looked at him, delirious with lust. She smiled broadly, her red lipstick making her mouth look wet and dark and oh so kissable.

  “I’m not finished with you yet, young lady.”

  “Good. Because I haven’t even started.”

  Then she surprised him.

  She went to unbutton his pants and reached in.

  Smiling, face upturned to his, she watched his reaction as she slowly wrapped her hand around his shaft.

  Then her eyes went wide. She looked down at what was in her hand, then up at him again.

  “Oh Bart!”

  “Yes, my dear?” He smiled.

  “We’re going to have to go awfully slowly.”

  “Don’t worry.” He laughed. “I’ll be careful.”

  She looked down and then up again, and then trembled as if weak in the knees a little.

  She stroked him gently. “You’re really quite big, you know.”

  “Kind of you to say so.”

  “I mean, I’m not a virgin but…”

  “Why should a modern woman be a virgin?”

  “Exactly. So I can compare a little, and, like, golly.”

  “Please...” He smiled. “You’ll give me a swelled head.”

  “It looks like I have already. Oh goodness! It jumped.” She smiled at him. “Bart, there is something I haven’t done before. I have heard some women do it.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “It’s something I’d like to do, if you don’t consider it too filthy.”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I need to whisper it in your ear, it’s so filthy. I don’t want the moon to hear it.”

  This woman delighted him beyond words. Bart smiled. “All right.”

  She stood up on tiptoe and put her lips to his ear, covering her speech with a hand. Then she whispered low and hoarsely, “I’d like to suck it. I’d like to suck on your fat cock.”

  Just when he thought this woman couldn’t delight him any more.

  “I think that can be arranged.” He pretended to think it over, but Libby knew he was teasing.

  Before he knew it, she was on her knees before him. She placed a hand around the base of his shaft, and he realized, for all her innocence, that she knew exactly what she was doing—and wanted to do it.

  Then he found himself inside her mouth. He felt the hot moistness of her tongue around the head of his cock. She supported his balls lightly with her hand, gently stroking him along the perineum.

  It was heaven. She knew what she was doing, all right. Yet she sucked and licked with a kind of innocence, a genuine delight.

  Libby made the sweetest sounds of pleasure as she sucked him, intensifying Bart’s excitement even more. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, letting himself go for a moment, lost in the feeling. But he knew he couldn’t do so for long. He wanted more than her mouth.

  He took her by the shoulders and brought her to standing.

  “I think it’s about time we got you out of that contraption.”

  She giggled. Bart ran his hands down her sides to the top of the girdle. He dug his thumbs in and began to peel it down, turning it inside out as he did so. Libby leaned back a little, hands over her heart, eyes closed, as if in a state of ecstatic shame. As the girdle turned inside out, her sweaty, pale skin was revealed, inch by glorious inch.

  The girdle was now turned down to just below her groin. Bart could see the voluminous black bush there, glistening with its own fluids. He put one hand over it and with the other caressed the naked globe of her behind. She leaned into him.

  “Ohhh. No fair. My legs are pinned together.”

  “I know.” He grinned, pushing his fingers inside, more than one this time. She was wet enough. And he wanted to ready her for his cock. She wasn’t wrong—it was quite big. “You can’t really run now, can you?”

  “Ohhh. I can’t anyway. Not with your fingers up my…” Libby moaned and rocked with his motion, taking two, three, oh yes, four of his fingers inside of her, stretching her to capacity. “Oh Bart, you devil…”

  She grabbed his bicep fiercely as she came again, grunting loudly, without any shame, like some kind of rutting beast. It was incredible. He felt like he was witnessing a miracle, something so pure it couldn’t help but be beautiful.

  “Oh that’s it. I can’t stand waiting another minute,” she whispered. “Please, Bart, put your cock inside me and fuck me hard. Fuck me, Bart, fuck me to the moon…”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice. Bart shucked off the rest of his clothes, pushing her gently but firmly to the ground. They were beneath a large tree at the very top of the hill, and the moon shone through the branches.

  Bart grasped the edge of her corset and continued to unpeel it. Her legs were pinned together and now pointing straight up at the sky. Losing patience with the girdle, Bart bent her legs back more, her knees moving towards her body. Finally, the girdle popped off the ends of her feet. Her legs instantly splayed wide and she held her arms out to him.

  He went to her, his cock throbbing. Libby reached down to guide him, using her hand to ease his entry. She was so tight, so smooth and soft and wet, he could barely restrain himself. But he did. He moved slowly, for Libby’s sake.

  She groaned lowly, whispering as he slid further and further.

  “Oh Bart. Oh, oh… my… that’s so good... so... big... oh!”

  When he was fully inside of her, he stopped, waiting, letting her get used to him.

  “All right?” he prompted, looking down at her face, eyes closed, brow knitted, mouth pursed.

  She opened her eyes and her face broke into a smile. “Perfect.”

  Bart began to move, slowly, watching her face. The more he rocked, the wetter she became, the easier he could move.

  “Ohhh yes!” she moaned, rocking with him, pushing her hips up to meet him. “Fuck me, Bart. Do it harder now! More!”

  He grunted and obliged, giving her more of him, inch by inch, until he was bottoming out every time, pounding into her as they rutted in the earth. This was the garden of Eden and they were like the first woman and man, Eve and Adam, sharing pleasure in the darkness. Bart had never believed such a thing could possibly be a sin.

  “Oh I love you, Bart,” Libby confessed, cupping his face in her hands. “I want this forever and ever.”

  “You have me,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her, smearing her lipstick. She tasted waxy and sweet, just like an apple.

  “Do you love me, Bart?” she asked. He couldn’t even believe she had to form the question. How could she not know? How could she not feel it?

  “More than anything.” The truth of it surged through him. He had never felt t
his way for a woman and knew he never would again.

  “Fill me,” she urged, wiggling beneath him, her pale torso undulating, long arms snaking around his neck. “Fill me all up, Bart.”

  He groaned and ground himself against her, as if he could pierce her all the way through. Libby cried out then, shuddering underneath him. He felt the flutter and pulse of her around his cock and that was more than enough to send him over the edge. He cried out, unmindful now of anything else, unable to help himself as he spilled his seed deep into her waiting womb.

  Had there been anyone nearby—although thankfully there wasn’t—they would have heard their loud, desperate cries of love.

  He took great gulps of night air as he collapsed beside her. It was still warm, although the breeze cooled their sweaty skin.

  They lay together, side by side, staring up at the moon.

  Bart chuckled. “You know, you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

  “Oh yes I am,” she replied, turning to snuggle against him, her fingers trailing through the nest of his pubic hair, searching for the snake. “I’m more knowledgeable than I pretend to be, but I’m every bit as innocent.”

  “Are you, now?” He felt himself stirring, wanting her again already,

  “Oh yes.”

  Chapter 5

  “Grandmother says she’d love a big wedding, of course,” Libby said. “But she’s also fine with us eloping to Spain or Italy. Whatever we want. She’s just happy I’m finally getting married, I think.”

  “Mm-hm.” Bart sat in one of the parlor chairs, pretending to read the paper. But, in fact, he was brooding.

  “On the one hand, a party would be fun. Inviting all our friends. I could throw a hell of a wedding party.” Libby leafed through her own magazine. It was full of wedding dresses.

  “Mm-hm.” Bart turned the newspaper page, not really seeing the words. Libby had talked nothing but wedding for almost two months. They were going to have to do the thing soon, or Boardwalk Louie would make an appearance. He couldn’t imagine that happening here, on the Bancroft estate. But he knew the threat was real.

  “But it’s so much work,” Libby went on. “And grandmother will want to invite all sorts of people we haven’t seen in ages.”

  “Mm-hm.” Bart looked at an ad for shoes, remembering a time when he couldn’t afford a new pair.

  “And I love the idea of just you and me running off to Italy and spending a month abroad. Don’t you?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Bart.”

  “Hm?”

  “You’re distracted.”

  “Oh.” He dropped the paper and looked at her. “No, I...”

  She raised her eyebrows and he stopped.

  “Okay, yes. I am mildly distracted.”

  “Tell me.”

  He’d been practicing the speech in his head—it was the only way he could think to get them out of trouble right away—and took a mental deep breath before starting.

  “Well... I’ve been trying to negotiate a major opportunity with my people out West. But my assets are all tied up at the moment in a big cattle deal.”

  “Mm-hm.” Now she sounded like him.

  “And my lawyers have just informed me that none of it can be untied and used for this investment.”

  “Lawyers are always getting in the way, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” He smiled at her observation. “Ah well. I can’t invest without the money. It’s just such a pity.”

  Libby perked up. “What were you hoping to invest in?”

  He’d known she would be interested in the deal. Libby loved to talk business.

  “Northwest Traction. A most enticing prospect,” he explained. “But I guess I’ll just have to let it go. Never mind, darling. Let’s go back to planning this wedding. What shall it be, the big party, or shall we elope?”

  “Now, hold on.” She put her hand up. “Northwest Traction. Where are they based?”

  “Chicago.”

  “Why, then they must be affiliated with Canard and Duchy,” she exclaimed. “They have their fingers in all the transportation-pies in Chicago.”

  Bart cleared his throat. “Er, yes, of course.”

  He had no idea what a Canard or a Duchy might be.

  “Your lawyers can’t figure out a way? Any way?”

  “Well,” he said, scratching his chin. “It’s a $100,000 investment. I’ve been on the phone to my bank, and they say there’s no way they can finance the loan on time.”

  “Hm.”

  “The problem is, this Northwest Traction opportunity isn’t going to last long.”

  “How much time do you have?”

  “Two days,” he told her. He couldn’t believe two months had gone by so fast. “I’d need to deposit the money by Friday afternoon.”

  “Mm-hm. And what’s the return on this investment?”

  “What does it matter?” Bart sighed. “The deal’s caboshed.”

  “Just tell me.” She came to sit in his lap. “I might be able to help.”

  “No Libby, out of the question.” He wrapped his arms comfortably around her.

  “Just tell me.”

  “Well... if you must know... the shares on this are guaranteed at five percent a month for three months,” he told her. The conman in him knew this would be low-hanging fruit, too hard to resist. “But really, it’s all academic now…”

  “Wow!” Libby perked up. “That’s a good return. Northwest really must need this money fast if they’re willing to pay that.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Don’t worry.” She rubbed her nose against his and kissed his cheek. “I should be able to get it for you. I’ll call Smythe and make the arrangements.”

  “Libby, I really don’t want to impose on you like this.” He could smell her perfume with her so close.

  “Oh, pooh. It’s nothing. Look at it this way. When we marry, our fortunes will be merged anyway, won’t they?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly, anticipating what it would be like when Libby learned he had no fortune.

  ~*~

  Bart had never had a problem lying to anyone in his life, but he was having trouble now.

  He hated lying to Libby.

  He’d done it, anyway, and he had the cash he needed—a $100,000 check with Libby’s signature on it that he’d cashed out at the bank, unbeknownst to her—in a suitcase hidden in his room. He’d told Libby she’d saved his investment in the “Northwest Traction” deal, but of course, it was earmarked to pay off Boardwalk Louie and save his hide. And Eddie’s.

  Bart faced Eddie in a dark corner of a bar on the lower East Side. There was hardly anyone else in there, which was good, because Bart didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation.

  “Eddie, you’re not listening,” Bart said, taking a swig of his beer. “I’m telling you—I just can’t do it.”

  “And I’m telling you, Bart—you can’t back out on me now.” Eddie’s voice was low and hard. “If you knew you were gonna fall for this damned dame, you shouldn’t have gotten this whole thing started.”

  Bart sighed, putting his head in his hands. “That’s just it, Eddie. I didn’t know I was gonna fall in love. How was I supposed to know?”

  “It’s a perfect con,” Eddie said. “You saw this dame by the side of the road in her expensive car, found out she was a Bancroft... you could smell the money, Bart. I don’t blame you. And it could all be ours, old sport!”

  Bart couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d seen Libby standing by the side of the road. He had known, somehow, even then, that she was special.

  “All the years I’ve known you, Bart, you’ve never let your feelings for some dame get in the way of business. Get in the way of us.”

  “Well, this dame is different,” Bart said softly. “And frankly, maybe I’m different, too.”

  “So what are you saying, Bart?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed, glittering in the dim light. “That you’re too good to do business
with your old pal Eddie now? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, Eddie. It’s not that. It’s just—”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” he hissed. “You mark my words, Bart Lamplighter—you’re going to end up with the dame and the money, and poor Eddie will be out on the street and he’ll have to find himself a new partner.”

  “No, Eddie. Look. I know it’s all messed up…”

  “You can say that again.” Eddie stabbed his cigarette out into an overflowing ash tray.

  The waitress passed by and Eddie waved his empty beer mug at her. She nodded and looked quizzically at Bart, but he shook his head.

  “You wanna know the truth, Eddie?”

  Eddie didn’t answer. He just looked at Bart with his lips pressed into a thin line.

  “The truth is...” Bart took a deep breath. “I’d love this girl even if she didn’t have a dime.”

  “Well, ain’t that sweet.” Eddie rolled his eyes and lit another cigarette. “You know, Bart, when I met you, you were playing the shell game at Coney Island for almost enough money to keep you from starvin’ to death.”

  “I know.” Bart lowered his head, remembering.

  “I took you out of the gutter and taught you everything you know about the grift.”

  “I know.”

  “And after the war, we got into a groove, didn’t we? Okay, maybe we never got rich—at least, not for long—but we never really starved. And every once in a while, we had a steak dinner, while other guys your age were riding rails all over the country, looking for jobs that didn’t exist. We weren’t doing so bad together, were we?”

  That past tense made Bart cringe. “Damnit, Eddie, now you’ve gone and made me feel bad.”

  “Good.” Eddie took a long drag on his cigarette and glared at him.

  “I’m sorry, Eddie, but I can’t help it.” He spoke his words to the table, unable to look his friend in the eye. “I have to stop the grift.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love her,” Bart said softly. “And I have to try to be worthy of her. Even if I don’t end up getting her.”