Red Hot Revenge Sex

By Kaysee Renee Robichaud

Sometimes we all want it. We want it so bad we can taste it. We want it so bad we can't think about anything else . . . Of course, we are talking about a little payback.

And sex, of course. Hot, sweaty, filthy, wonderful, purging intercourse. Sometimes these two desires come hand and fist, sometimes they work against one another. In her newest collection, Kaysee Renee Robichaud explores scenarios where payback and sweaty sexy funtime collide in unusual ways.

Scientists, an oil field worker, a detective's secretary who is prone to getting captured and tied up (and not-so-secretly loves it), a southern belle, an auto mechanic, movie stars, and more characters from disparate and desperate backgrounds find themselves swept away by passions. Sometimes they take matters into their own hands and sometimes they make others pay out the . . .

Well, payback can be a nasty bitch with a riding crop, can't it?

This book contains scenes of an adult nature and is not for children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twice Told Tales II
• Release date: Dec 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463930342

Kaysee Renee Robichaud

"Kaysee Renee Robichaud ... balances perfect amounts of ... eroticism and adventure." -- Julian van de Camp,Wings of Steam BlogKaysee Renee Robichaud has been publishing her erotica and romantic fiction since 2008, through such well known book pulishers as Circlet Press, Ravenous Romance, Cleis and Alyson Books. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies, including the Lambda Award finalist Women of the Bite, edited be Cecilia Tan. An audio version of her story "Adrift" appeared as episode 226 of the Nobilis podcast."Kaysee Renee Robichaud's [writing is] intense, nuanced ... poignant, [and] moving..." -- Sacci Green, Erotica RevealedKaysee Renee has lived all over the United States, but currently resides in southern Texas, where the winters are actually a lot like her childhood autumns. The summers, though, are pretty rough. She is eternally grateful for air conditioning, though a little sweat is good for the fiction."Kaysee Renee Robichaud [tells] a ... playful story, written in a breezy style." -- Jean Roberta, Erotica Revealed

Book preview

Red Hot Revenge Sex and Other Naughty Paybacks

Erotic Stories

Kaysee Renee Robichaud

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Dr. Kupfer's Grand Design first appeared in Geek Lust, ed. F. Leonora Solomon, Ravenous Romance © 2012. Trussed Issues first appeared in the Trussed Issues chapbook, published by Twice Told Tales © 2013. Destiny and the Truth Detector first appeared in Sex Toy Stories 2, ed. F. Leonora Solomon, Ravenous Romance © 2013. Red Hot Revenge Sex first appeared in Bad Boy Ménage, ed. F. Leonora Solomon, Ravenous Romance © 2014. Sun-Kissed in Boca Silencio first appeared in Hot Summer Flings, ed. F. Leonora Solomon, Ravenous Romance © 2013. Sexual Appetites first appeared in the Sexual Appetites chapbook, published by Twice Told Tales © 2014. Dirty Sexy Movie Money first appeared as a standalone chapbook, published by Twice Told Tales © 2018.

Copyright © 2018 by Kaysee Renee Robichaud

Cover Art contains

Woman with sad unhappy face holding mask with a fake smile © by SkyPics Studios, Young Couple Kiss Selfie On Smartphone © Studiostoks, and

Vector Pop Art Surprised Girl © Vectorstudio

Cover Design © 2018 by Twice Told Tales

Smashwords Edition

Published by Twice Told Tales

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Table of Contents

Dr. Kupfer's Grand Design

Trussed Issues

Destiny and the Truth Detector

Red Hot Revenge Sex

Sun-Kissed in Boca Silencio

Sexual Appetites

Dirty Sexy Movie Money

Dr. Kupfer's Grand Design

If Dr. Richard Kupfer knew how good-looking he was, he did not seem to give a damn. Dr. Sara Goodkind knew something hot lay beneath Richard's absent-minded professor demeanor, not that it was easy to perceive. She had studied him at enough Friday afternoon meetings, which the UT physics departmental chair had dubbed Chalk Talks, to see through his façade.

Richard took a page from Einstein, wearing a fresh set of the same clothes every day: periwinkle button-up shirt with a dark tie, dark slacks, dark loafers, dark belt, undoubtedly the same boxers (or briefs) and dark socks—so as not to waste brainpower thinking through outfit choices. However, he wore his clothes with the same confidence and swagger Goldman Sachs executives did. He sometimes lost track of his glasses when he rested them in his hair; however, his steely blue eyes were fascinating to behold. When he was thinking through a problem, he often tapped the fingertip of his index finger against his lips in an unconscious shushing motion. Sara often wondered both how dexterous those long, slender fingers were, as well as how soft the lips might be. Like Einstein, he kept his hair long and uncombed, but Richard's hair was dark, washed every day, and never skeevy. His natural musk and leather-scented cologne mixed in ways which drove Sara wild.

Sara had been a member of the department for almost three months before she made her move to get to know him.

Dr. Goodkind?

She glanced up from typing through her quarterly funding expenditures report to find him in the doorway to her office. He looked perplexed but yummy.

Yes, Dr. Kupfer? University of Texas's physics department was informal; everyone knew everyone on a first-name basis. Only Richard Kupfer kept up the veneer of title and last-name formality.

"I think there's been a mix-up. Maybe on my end, but I was wondering if we could have a little quid pro quo."

Come in, she said, and tell me the situation.

He glanced around her office, noticing the barely controlled chaos with a disapproving frown. Sara's office was still being moved into. She had seen his office, and though it was not much better at a cursory glance, she knew he had a method he adhered to. Everything in Richard Kupfer's office was in its proper place. He was a theoretician, after all, and had no lab space of his own to let his materials spill into.

As with most experimental physicists, Sara's lab space was her primary interest point: the office was a place to do paperwork, and could wait. Thus, the books were not yet arranged on the shelves as she might want. The boxes around her desk were not yet unpacked. The three grant applications she was working on concurrently dominated her desk, while a separate station served her computer. Moving into a new workspace was a slow, slow process.

Thank you. He entered and closed the door, and pulled an empty chair to her station and sat down.

Breathing in, she caught his scent, and her heart started racing.

Paolo, he said, That's my postdoc?

I've met Paolo, she said, recalling the slump-shouldered postdoctoral fellow working away at the journeyman level of his career with an eye to escaping it in, oh, seven or eight years instead of the recommended three or four. Everything about Paolo, from his slovenly attire to his shuffling walk, contributed to an aura of diligent laziness.

Paolo signed me up for the department's server time.

UT's physics department had exclusive access to one of the campus's two Cray supercomputers. The devices were incredible workers, nothing short of miracle machines capable of chugging through even the most complex computations if given enough time. The devices were in high demand, their valuable time needed to be doled out to the many, many interested researchers.

Though the rest of the campus had moved on to automation and paperless e-file systems, the Crays still had a physical sign-up sheet. Pieces of paper attached to a clipboard with time allotment spaces for researchers to fill out. Or, more realistically, for researchers to have their grad students or postdoctoral fellows fill out. Slavery was alive and well in academia.

He told me, Richard continued, "I was next on the list. Turns out, I'm not. You are."

Oh? That would teach Paolo to use pencil on a form everyone else signed in ink.

Yes, he said, and I was structuring my week on the basis of having server time.

Oh? she repeated, liking the way this was going.

And I thought I might come over and talk to you about your project, he said, before adding, Not that I want to scoop you or skunk you or perform any other intellectual property impropriety.

Of course not, she said. You want to know if my little insignificant project can be put on hold while you continue working on your grand design.

I was hoping to find out if your project was in a crunch phase, or if it could perhaps enter a non-excited state so I could take advantage of your slot.

Oh my . . . She forced herself to adopt a serious face. Dr. Kupfer, are you insinuating something?

Richard's eyes widened with sudden surprise at his choice of words.

Time slot. On the Cray. Take advantage of your time slot.

Was he flustered? This was new. And rather adorable. He had this whole Jeff Goldblum thing going for him. Young Goldblum, that was. Circa The Fly. Early in the movie, before he got goopy-nasty looking. This of course, brought up images of Jeff Goldblum in icky makeup.

Okay, Sara thought, so maybe Richard Kupfer was nothing like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. What about Jurassic Park? That was better. In the Park, part one, of course, Goldblum was ambitious and self-assured and rather yummy.

Any thoughts? he asked, performing the verbal trick of attempting to unbury himself by tossing her the proverbial ball.

I've a couple, she said. But I want to hear your proposal.

My proposal?

Yes. I'm a new investigator, as you've pointed out at several meetings. The term Principal Investigator was applied to any research scientist at the university. She was still on her start-up funds, which the university itself offered, but the pressure to get her own grant funding weighed upon her. It was the start to a cycle which would end with retirement.

Yes, you are, and welcome, he said. I believe I welcomed you before, yes? In public, even.

Yes, you did. At the departmental mixer.

Coffee klatch, he corrected.

What's the difference?

Mixers are dinner parties conducted for the purpose of displaying gee-gaws and orchestrating forced social situations for otherwise unacquainted neighbors. Whereas a coffee klatch is a time-honored business arrangement, wherein colleagues can step away from their daily activities and partake of social interaction opportunities, which might otherwise be lacking due not to their own decisions to remain indoors but to the demands of their particular working environment.

I see, she said, wanting to see him squirm all the more.

I'm a repository for unusual facts, he said. But you were saying?

As a new investigator, she said, My research time is vital. I'm applying for funding opportunities through the NSF, the NIH and NASA.

Ambition is the way to succeed.

And publication is part of that process. If I don't get computer time this week, I'll be delaying my major publication opportunity, which gums up the proverbial works.

Ah, he said. This is a conundrum. One he considered for almost thirteen seconds before he said, I have an idea.

Oh?

'Oh,’ indeed. I have a grand design, he said. You might have heard of my work on string theory?

Of course she had. No one came to the university without knowing about Richard Kupfer's work on the grand unified theory of physics, also known as string theory. Also known as the grand design. No matter what you called it, Kupfer was a leading developmental mind on the scientific theory trying to assemble everything in the known universe under a single umbrella. How dare he treat her like she might not be aware of his work?

Forget about seeing him squirm. Now, she wanted nothing less than to break him like a horse.

I might have heard something, she said. One or two little bits.

Well, I have a spot open, he said. "In my latest journal article. A piece slated for Science. It could use a little extra oomph from someone specialized in particle physics and statistical analysis. I'm suggesting a simple data modeling data exercise, nothing too taxing. He chuckled. Shouldn't take you more than a day or two with your top-of-the-line desktop machine, right there." He indicated the Dell sitting on her desk with a nod, but never once