Client No. 6

by Cassandra Dee

  “Yeah fuck me,” I whispered, “Do it, do it.”

  And Tucker started pounding me with the wine bottle then, shoving it in deep before withdrawing, smears of fluid coating the deep green glass, the elegant swan neck of the bottle turning a milky white.

  “Fuck,” he grunted, never taking his eyes from my trashed cunt. “This is what I love about you, you’re such a fucking slut.”

  And I threw my head back and screamed, the admission didn’t bother me at all.

  “Oh yeah,” I panted between heaves. “I’m your whore, your personal fuckslut.”

  And Tucker’s eyes flamed with fire then, my words so incendiary, so hot that it only goaded him into action. Without losing a beat, the big man pulled the bottle out of my pussy and with the next thrust, shoved it into my ass.

  “Oh fuck!” I shrieked. “Oh fuck fuck fuck!” Because although he’d just been up there, I wasn’t prepared at all and the invasion took me by surprise, chills running up and down my spine as my pussy and ass tingled and clenched, both holes clamping down with pleasure. “Oh fuck!”

  But Tucker was a man with a mission and he wasn’t letting up. He swung his arm vigorously, impaling me again and again on the bottle, forcing it deep up my rectum, going so far I was sure it was going to pop out of my throat.

  I screamed and shrieked, trembling and shaking until I couldn’t take it anymore. The incredible sensations coursing through my cunt, the violation of my ass, how it was so stretched, so pummeled, was overwhelming and I creamed like an overflowing geyser, the white spilling out of my cunt and running all over his hand as he fucked me below.

  “Ohhhh,” I moaned, throwing my head back, my body open to his gaze, his touch. “Ohhhh!”

  “That’s right baby girl,” he panted, still going at it hard in my ass. “That’s how my little butt slut takes it.”

  And I came again at the dirty words, the tremors shaking me from head to toe, electric sparks coursing from my clit to my nips, my swollen folds snapping and clenching with desire.

  “Ohhh,” I moaned again. “Tucker, Tucker, fuuuuck.”

  The big man watched, a sly smile on his face even as he slowly eased off, stilling his movements, eating up the sight of my pink pussy coming down from heaven, short jolts, small twitches taking over from the tremendous waves.

  “Fuck, I love seeing you come,” he growled, reaching a finger to my hole and scooping up some of that white before bringing it to his mouth. “You taste good, baby girl,” he ground out, sampling my cunt juice.

  And I took it one step further.

  “Oh really? I taste good?” I said slyly. “Hand me the bottle.”

  And he passed it over, hand shaking, sensing what I was about to do. Because yeah, I was with the man I adored and nothing could stop me, nothing could hold me back. Opening my pink pucker seductively, I slipped the bottle between my lips, tasting my own musky ass scent.

  “Oh mmm,” I murmured. “Oh mmm.” The ass to mouth was incredible, I loved sampling my own butthole, getting a whiff of what Tucker ate every night. And true to form, the big man wasn’t missing out today. He slapped my butt, making it sting, before worming a finger to my anus and slipping it in, stirring it a bit, making sure it got good and nasty up there. Then without missing a beat, he popped it out and brought it to his lips.

  “Baby girl, there isn’t a part of you that doesn’t taste good,” he rumbled. “And we’re starting over at square one now.”

  I sighed then, my body going limp. I’d just been fucked in the pussy and ass with a wine bottle, my lover eating my musky butt scent. And he wanted to start over? That meant the horizontal games had only just begun, and I was in for another hard loving tonight.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Tucker

  Laurie’s amazing, so down-to-earth and genuine, without a mean bone in her body. I know I’ve said it before, said it a million times, but this girl is the real thing. She’s curvy, giving and generous, which is especially touching because she doesn’t exactly make much working in City government. Yep, she’s a civil servant and I haven’t seen her paystub, but this new administration isn’t exactly known for its generosity to employees.

  And I like it because she’s refreshing, so different. These last few months have me staying in every night, eating dinner with the brunette, relaxing, lounging, talking about our day before heading to bed and drilling that sweet pussy over and over again. It’s a complete change from my previous life as a man about town, banging a different cunt every night, coming into work in the mornings with my dick wet from a strange woman’s cream. All the mindless fucks took their toll and I used to be pretty cranky, a fucking asshole to everyone around me. But now my attitude at NYC Concierge has improved, and a lot of folks have noticed.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” growled my cousin, eyeing me one morning. I’d been whistling slightly while staring at some spreadsheets, relaxed, lounging back in my chair. We have an open office plan so there are no walls, everyone sits in the common area, including me.

  I shrugged my shoulders, Hunter was always up in my business. It was his job, I’d hired a family member as COO to keep me in line, speak truth to power, but still, even I admit the change in my personality was a one eighty.

  “Nothing,” I said casually. “Why?”

  Hunter just eyed me suspiciously.

  “It’s ten a.m. and I haven’t seen you take a drink yet,” he growled. “And yet you seem okay, you’re not a raging lunatic punching walls.”

  I guffawed then. Yeah, sometimes I’m intense, really intense because I ask so much of myself, and I want everyone to give a hundred and fifty percent. Shit, I worked so hard for my baby and it killed me that NYC Concierge was a “job” to some people, nothing more than I paycheck. I try not to hire those folks, they don’t have the dream, the vision to get the company off the ground.

  But Hunter was right. Everything about me had changed, I’d skipped my morning drink more by accident than anything else. Because with Laurie, there was no need for the alcohol, no need for the extra push. Instead, I got my push from her sweet pussy wrapped around my cock in the grey light of dawn, her pulsing snatch milking me, draining me of my jism so that I could focus during the day, my body sated yet humming, ready to go. I swear, it was the best drug, an adrenaline shot that lasted and lasted until I got home, ready for another dose of that curvy body.

  But Hunter had no idea and I wasn’t about to explain.

  “People change,” I said carelessly, flipping open my laptop.

  My cousin snorted then.

  “Fuck that, I’ve known you your whole life,” he scoffed. “You’ve never been like this before.”

  And I just looked at him coolly, casually.

  “Where are last week’s numbers?” I said, my voice neutral, indicating the subject was closed.

  And Hunter, hearing the alpha in my voice, jumped up and began riffling through some papers, back to business. Because I’m the boss, I’m the top dog, and it’s as simple as that. I’m the unchallenged leader at this start-up and it’s the force of my personality that drives this place, provides the mojo to keep going. Within seconds, I had my cousin in the hot seat, peppering him with questions as I studied the spreadsheet, noting tiny details, nothing too insignificant to escape my eye.

  But Hunter’s observations had hit the bull’s eye. Because I have changed in the last couple months. This time with Laurie, buried in her beautiful body, making love to her day and night, chatting with her, learning of her hopes and dreams, has changed me. She’s touched something deep inside, something that’s never been touched before and it’s fucking scary to be honest. I’ve never felt more vulnerable, more open to a woman’s ideas, to her suggestions, to her heart, her mind, and it’s a whole new way of life.

  Plus there’s the fact that the brunette is completely different from other women. Most bitches, when they realize that I’m an internet billionaire, start creaming immediately in their panties, their eyes g
oing soft with “oohs” and “ahhs,” big dollar signs flipping in their eyes.

  But I wasn’t having any of it, fuck no. These bitches are conniving golddiggers through and through, not one of them was genuine, it was all about the cash, although they begged to differ.

  “No Tucker, it’s your big dick,” they’d moan, my cock stuffed into their mouths.

  “No Tucker, it’s your massive balls,” they’d pant, licking one, then the other, leaving a trail of saliva on my testicles.

  But fuck that, it wasn’t my anatomy, wasn’t my sculpted bod or scintillating personality, I wasn’t under any illusions. It was the dollar signs, the life I could offer them, ensconced in the lap of luxury without lifting a finger.

  So to stumble upon Laurie, shit, to meet the brunette on a humdrum delivery run, was a stroke of good luck, probably the best thing that had ever happened to me. The brunette was so humble, so direct, so real, and she didn’t care about money at all. I’d given her my credit card and the only thing she’d bought was some white cotton panties from the drugstore, the kind that’s five bucks for a three-pack.

  “Honey,” I said, trailing my hand along the edge of the fabric, letting my finger wander into that crevice between her thigh and pussy, stroking the soft flesh. “You know I want you to buy yourself something fancy, something nice. I mean, this underwear is great, don’t get me wrong, you look good in everything, but there’s no need to hold back. Spend my money, baby, buy something expensive for yourself,” I rumbled persuasively.

  The brunette sighed, tossing her head back, angling her hips so that my finger was right at her wet hole, the thin cotton soaked through already. I groaned deep in my throat, the unmistakable smell of her wet snatch so pungent and aromatic that my dick, which had been at full mast already, punched out even more, big, dangerous, ready to do damage.

  But Laurie wasn’t going to take advantage of my generosity, she thought I was a humble delivery man and nothing more.

  “Oh Tucker,” she sighed, twisting sensuously on the duvet, her hole pressing down on my finger, begging it to make entrance, begging me to push in and stroke her. “These panties are just fine. Look,” she breathed, reaching one hand down and flipping the crotch inside out. “Look how wet I am for you.”

  And I choked deep in my throat. Because the white cotton was serving its dual purposes. It kept her hygienic, clean, all that good stuff, but it was also perfect for sopping up her juices until the fabric was soaked, until a thin white crust of nectar formed, flaking off for my enjoyment later. I loved sniffing her panties, running them up and down my pole, even lapping at the white stuff. Fuck, I’m a dirty guy but I’ve never pretended otherwise, my mind’s in the gutter 24/7.

  And fuck that pussy was bare to me now and there no way I could stay out, the pink lips swollen and glistening under the low light, a slow trickle of cream swelling and trickling down her butt.

  “Fuck baby,” I groaned, reaching a finger down to dip between her ass cheeks, sampling the ambrosia. Oh shit, Laurie was warm and sweaty between those creamy orbs, and I held my hand up to my nose, sniffing her butt sweat before licking my finger. “Fuck baby, you taste good.”

  And giggling, she wiggled her ass a little, spreading her legs wider, shifting her hips while beckoning to me with half-lidded eyes. My depraved ways didn’t freak her out, had never turned her off, fuck, this was the girl for me for sure.

  “Come and get it then,” she purred. “Come sample my kitty.”

  And I was all over it like a dog in heat. That night, I trashed her cunt once more, running my dick in and out with no mercy, shredding those sweet vaginal walls before plundering her rectum, forcing my pole up her tiny anus.

  “Ohhhh fuck,” I groaned, holding her tight as my penis let lose, spurts of cream running up her anal canal, showering her insides with my virile white. “Fuuuuuck,” I ground out again.

  And it was good for the brunette too, she screamed before biting deep into my shoulder, her teeth leaving a half-moon imprint, her ass clamping and clenching around my cock, milking my balls until they were drained dry.

  “Ohhh Tucker,” she moaned, her head lolling on her neck, big tits pressed into my chest. “Ohhh.”

  And that’s how it is every day. I love hearing my name on Laurie’s lips when she comes, it binds her deeper to me, makes my dick jump harder, spurt more, giving up everything to my beautiful brunette, body, mind, and soul. Because in a few short months, that’s what’s happened. This woman owns me, I jump whenever she beckons, I do whatever she wants, hurt when she hurts, and fuck, but I’m a goner. Tucker McGrath is completely under the spell of Laurie Holmes, and it feels absolutely right.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Laurie

  I was with Tanya at lunch during work, sitting at a café around the corner from our building. The café was nondescript, filled with people like us, government employees escaping from their cubes for a quick meal in the New York sunshine, light sparkling off the sidewalks, cars speeding by spewing us with fumes as we ate our pasta.

  But still, a sunny, relatively warm day is rare for New York City in the fall and it seemed like everyone was here this afternoon, eager to get out of the fluorescent lighting and drab work setting. So Tanya chewed slowly, trying to avoid going back to work for as long as possible.

  “We still haven’t gone up to the Bronx to check out our signs,” she reminded me, fixing me with a look. “We’re flaking on our jobs. Maybe Saunders will fire me then,” she rubbed her hands gleefully.

  And I laughed.

  “Tan, I know, I know,” I said ruefully. “I keep meaning to but things keep coming up.”

  “But what?” asked my co-worker, rolling her eyes. “Come on, you can come to my place afterwards for some wine and dinner. What could be better than red, red wine?”

  I just laughed because how to explain? I had different priorities now and that included getting home and eating dinner with my man. Tucker and I usually ordered delicious take-out before retiring upstairs with a bottle of wine, lounging in the big bed. And of course, if Tucker and I are around each other for even an hour, it means there’s gonna be sexy times, some dick in cunt or dick in ass, or both.

  But I could hardly scandalize my co-worker, so I just hedged.

  “It’s my divorce,” I lied, biting my lip before looking straight her in the eye. I hated lying and was bad at it, but it was just easier this way. “You know, papers and stuff.”

  Tanya exhaled loudly, blowing her frizzy bangs off her forehead, her hair like a poodle’s crown.

  “Paperwork, schmakerwork,” she said with a wry smile. “Seriously girl, I’ve been divorced twice and yours is taking longer than both of mine put together.”

  I colored then.

  “Um, I dunno,” I said lamely. “I’ll have to ask my lawyer what’s going on. Besides, shouldn’t we get back?” I asked, glancing at my watch quickly, trying to change the subject. “Oh shit, it’s almost one thirty, we better jet.”

  And with that, we reached for our credit cards to split the bill. Without thinking my fingers slipped to my wallet where all my cards were, my driver’s license, health insurance, gym membership jumbled together and unthinkingly I pulled out Tucker’s card and dropped it on the table.

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, the metal caught the afternoon light, glinting in our eyes, and immediately Tanya was on it, snatching the rectangle and looking at it closely.

  “What is this?” she asked curiously, “this isn’t yours, is it? I see it belongs to a ‘Tucker McGrath.’”

  “Oh yeah,” I stammered. “Oh sorry, wrong card, here, here’s mine,” I said, burrowing in my purse and coming up with my humble AmEx. “Here, take this,” I said, offering it, waving it under her nose.

  But my co-worker couldn’t be deterred. She peered at Tucker’s name even more closely, squinting her eyes over her reading glasses.

  “Laurie, why do you have this?” she asked. “You know, merchants are supposed to confiscate stolen credit
cards,” she said slowly.

  “It’s not stolen!” I gasped, color rising to my cheeks. “I have that legitimately.”

  “Oh yeah?” asked Tanya skeptically, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, the card still firmly in her grasp. “Honey, they don’t pay us much at HRA but there’s no need to steal,” she said seriously. “I know this divorce has wiped you out but if you need money, I can make you a personal loan.”

  I gasped again. How could my friend think I was so down and out, so poor that I’d taken to swiping other people’s stuff? But Tanya just shook her head.

  “Honey, like I said, I’ve been divorced twice, been through the wringer twice and it wiped me out both times,” she said with wryly. “Why do you think I was biking to work for a while? Because my last ex took my car and I had no money for a subway ticket. That’s right, not even five dollars a day for transportation, I had to fucking bike to work last winter, through snow and sleet, I practically got pneumonia.”

  Holy cow, I sat back at the table, astounded. Tanya had been so down and out? I hadn’t realized, she’d said she wanted to get in shape and was biking to improve her fitness, I’d never suspected.

  “Fuck that,” the blonde said bitterly. “WTF, who wants to bike through snow? I had no money, that was the real reason, ‘my health’ be damned. So tell me why you have this,” she said sternly, shaking the card again. “Seriously girl, if you’re hard-up, I can help, I’ve been saving like mad the last two years.”

  I sighed.

  “Tan, I would never do that to you, neither of us make much working for the city,” I said wryly. “You need every cent you earn. We both do,” I said. “But seriously, the card is legit. It’s owner … is letting me borrow it,” I stumbled, a blush rising to my cheeks.

  “Borrow it?” asked Tanya, again staring at me over her glasses. They were funky green today, studded with rhinestones on the sides. “What does ‘borrow’ mean?”