by Cole, S. Ann
She emitted a sexy laugh. “Of course, Trev. I’m married, aren’t I?”
“Well, there’s this girl … ” Trailing off, he made a show of glancing uncertainly around the room, pretending to be uncomfortable with talking about such a ‘personal’ topic in the open.
Mrs. Lewis waved her hand dismissively. “No one’s here but me and the housekeeper, Trev. You can talk.”
He injected a dose of lameness in his voice and expression. “Yeah, but I still feel … you know.”
Rolling her eyes, she spun on her heels and signaled for him to follow. “Alright. C’mon, we can talk in my study.”
Trailing behind her gave him a close-up of her ass rolling in the skimpy bikini. Trevillo took the opportunity to adjust his crotch as he followed her throughout the house and down a hallway, where she stopped and opened the door to her study.
She gestured for him to enter. He walked in, but immediately pivoted around. The instant she closed the door and turned, he hovered over her.
She let out a tiny gasp as she stared up at him with questioning eyes. “What are you doing?”
Trevillo moved in closer, and she stepped backward with each advance until she was backed up against the door, right where he wanted her. When he moved his right hand around her to turn the lock with a ‘click’, she asked again, “Trev, what are you doing?”
As his gaze dropped to her wide, full lips, he announced, “I’m going to kiss you.”
And he did. His lips met hers, and his tongue slipped between them to rub against hers. He was utterly surprised at her receptiveness of the kiss. Until she pushed hard at his chest, jerking him back a bit, and slapped him across the face.
Fuck, that felt good.
“I’m married!” she hissed at him. “You don’t just kiss somebody’s wife!”
“Do that again,” he commanded.
Face twisting in confusion, she asked, “What?”
“Hit me again.”
She gaped at him. “You are one twisted little fucker, do you know that?”
“Do I have to kiss you again for you to do as I say and hit me?”
As she opened her mouth to speak, Trevillo slid his tongue inside again. This time, she wasn’t just receptive, she was eager. She threw her hands up around his neck and kissed him back with voracious need. Then she ripped her lips apart from his and slapped him again.
Trevillo smiled.
Out of breath, she told him, “I’m Nardo’s mother. I could be your mother. You’re nuts!”
“Impediments. Impediments,” Trevillo tsked. “You know this is what you fantasize about.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
Trevillo leaned in and brought his lips to her ear, flicking his tongue at the lobe. “That novel you were reading, I know it. Erotic. Seems to be popular, because my sis and her friends are also gushing about it. I know it’s about a young, hot, sexy rock star, and a shy, innocent virgin. And they have lots and lots and lots and lots of sex — ”
“What’s your point?”
“I’m not a rock star,” he continued, as he kissed behind her ear. “But I’m young, I’m hot, and I’m fucking rich.”
“Well, you’re not cocky at all,” she rejoined.
“I’m not. Just highlighting what you’re feigning ignorance at.” Bringing his hands between them, he brushed his thumbs over her hardened nipples under the thin fabric, and she emitted a peep of a moan. “I’m also a virgin … ”
That made her stiffen, gazing up at him with incredulity. “You’re a … that is a lie.” She shook her head. “No seventeen year old virgin is this smooth. No virgin knows their way around a woman’s body like this. So much so, you even have me considering this inane idea … ”
She was right, his ass was lying. He lost his virginity three years ago to a perpetually-horny socialite and cougar who was a close friend of his aunt. But throwing in a shock factor during a seduction was necessary to stir a mixture of emotions in women. Mixed with the inciting caresses, it boggles their mind and clouds their judgment and, therefore, they always give in. Every girl wanted to be a guy’s first something.
Trevillo released a light chuckle. “Being a seducer isn’t something I was taught or I practice … ” — another lie, the socialite was a damn good teacher — ” … For me, it’s innate. I’ve never been inside a woman, but I know how to make a woman beg me to be inside her.” Tilting up her chin, Trevillo licked his tongue up her neck. “I do this to girls often. But I’ve never fucked any of them, because none of them makes my cock as hard as you do.”
Reaching behind her, he took hold of her bikini string, and with one tug, the knot came undone. “Whenever I see you in these lil’ … things, Mrs. Lewis, my cock grows so painfully hard, I become numb, unable to think of anything else but being inside you. Yet, while I’m sucking, finger-fucking or taking a blow, I’ve never desired to be inside any of those girls. I’ve been saving myself for you.”
Watching her lips part as she panted, unable to find words, Trevillo reached for the strings around her neck and tugged. The knot came undone and the bikini top fell between them, revealing her heavy, brown-nipple tits.
Smoothing his hands up her sides, he used his thumbs to caress the sides of her breasts, then he cupped them without letting his fingers touch her nipples, and she let out a frustrated mewl.
“You want me lick them, don’t you?” Lowering his head, he gently breathed on her nipples. “They’re aching for just a touch, just a tweak, just a simple flick of the tongue, aren’t they?”
Struggling to hold her footing, Mrs. Lewis lifted her chin. “If you’re really a virgin, it would be a complete waste of my time, because once you’re inside me, you’d come in two seconds flat.”
Oh, he’d be showing her two seconds in a second.
Chuckling, Trevillo informed her, “Mrs. Lewis, even though I’m excited to have you, I’m not that excited.”
“Fucking your fist and fucking a real vagina is not the same thing,” she shot.
Trevillo brought his hands to her hips and grabbed the side-strings of her bikini bottom. “Even if I do come in two seconds, guess what? We can go again, and again, and again. Just like in that book you were reading. I’m young, I’m virile, and I’ve got a big fucking cock. I’ve kept my virginity because I wanted to feel your cunt — sorry, vagina, or whatever the hell you prefer I call it, wrapped around me, fucking away my innocence. I don’t want to keep it anymore; I want to give it to you. So, will you take it, Mrs. Lewis?”
A gasp escaped her when Trevillo tugged at the strings of her bikini bottom, undoing the knots and causing the scrap of fabric to fall, leaving her completely nude.
“There’s nothing innocent about you. You’re a sexual hellion!” she pointed out. “Dear God, you look, smell, and wreak sex. And, for Marcello’s son, you have a rather filthy, filthy ass mouth.”
Leaning in, Trevillo braced up against her, pressing her hard against the door, making sure she could feel the rigidity of his erection was just as hard as the wood against her back. He dipped a hand between her thighs and slid his fingers through her drenched heat. “I also have a big, hard, throbbing dick, a punitive tongue, and,” bringing his wet fingers up to her mouth, he wiped her arousal across her lips, “your desperate need dripping off my fingers.”
Her pink tongue darted out and licked it all from her lips. She closed her eyes and made a sound akin to a sob. “This is so wrong.”
Placing his hands on either side of her head, Trevillo leaned down to drop his lips to hers. “But wrong is what you crave. This is your fantasy, and you are my fantasy. So, forget that novel, and give in to the real deal, gorgeous.”
Teasing her parted lips with his, he told her, “Here’s what I want: I want to fuck you against this door. Right now. Hard. I want to come over here as usual on the weekends and watch you sunbathe out on that balcony in those skimpy little scraps. And when your husband leaves, I want to come i
n and fuck you anywhere, on any surface you want. Whatever excites you. And if I ever disappoint, I want you to slap the shit out of me — you give a good backhand.” Flexing his hips into her, he asked, “Now, what do you want, Mrs. Lewis?”
Seemingly lost for words, her eyes lowered to his lips, and her hips rocked as she moved against his erection, trying to ease the ache he knew she had between her thighs.
Trevillo grabbed her right hand and brought it to his bulge. “Is this what you want, Mrs. Lewis?”
On a deep moan, she breathed out her confession, “It’s what I crave.”
Hitching up her left leg around his waist, he flexed his hips into her again. “Well, then, why don’t you use those delicate hands of yours to undo my jeans, take hold of what you crave, and guide it inside you?”
Chapter 21
S. James
Taking what’s Mine
Sarah drew back the curtains from her bedroom window and watched as the Mexicans stalked out of the house, collected their guns, hopped into their big, black Escalade, and sped off. By the looks of it — the rapidity of their steps, the aggression with which they retrieved their guns from the house securities, the tire-burning screech that they gassed off with — she could tell their meeting with her husband didn’t go well.
Sarah was counting on that.
Wasting not another second, she slid on her red pumps to complement the red lingerie set she donned over an hour ago, waiting for Johnson’s meeting with the Mexicans to end. Her hair was done in wild curls, creating a commotion around her shoulders and down her back — just the way she knew Johnson liked it — and her lips were painted red to match her outfit.
Putting a pep in her step, Sarah exited her bedroom and started down the stairs, aiming straight for the basement — Johnson’s ‘den of dealings’. The strong pungency of alcohol and tobacco invaded her nostrils as she descended the stairs, and she noticed stacks of cocaine in the far right end corner of the den. It was still the same amount as last night, which strengthened Sarah’s conclusion the meeting had gone sour. Someone told someone else to fuck off, and no deal was made.
All the better, Sarah thought.
Johnson kept his den in a dim, green glow, and there were always thin swirls of smoke levitating in the air. His custom was to conduct his meetings alone, while his men stood watch outside. Though he had his minions around him, he was a cynic who trusted no one.
Except his wife, Sarah.
It was mandatory all who entered his house to discuss ‘business’ leave their weapons with the securities at the front door. This gave him complete control in the meetings; he could tell whoever to fuck off as much as he wanted, without having a gun pulled on him.
Sarah approached Johnson who was sitting behind his large, black desk, stuffing tobacco in his pipe. Fat-ass fucker swore to shit he was on top of the world.
Johnson James was Sarah’s college sweetheart. He used to be hot — enough to be compared to Trevillo. He used to be captain of the football team, with abs women drooled over and a rich head of midnight-black hair framing his square-jawed face that enhanced the emerald green of his eyes.
But that was ages ago.
Now, those abs were replaced with layers of flab. The incredible jaw line was now saggy double chins. The rich head of hair had dwindled into thinness. And his once captivating green eyes had sunken deep into the chubbiness of his face.
Johnson just didn’t do it for her anymore. Couldn’t send her heart racing anymore. Couldn’t give her an orgasm anymore. Couldn’t make her feel anymore. Sarah simply didn’t love him anymore.
But he never stopped loving her.
As she neared his desk, swaying her hips, Johnson glanced up at her and smiled. Love shining, as usual. The way Johnson looked at her never changed. The same look he’d given her when he first saw her at a pizzeria when she’d just started college. A look more than a look of lust, but a look saying, ‘You are it. I’ve finally found you’. Throughout their life together, it never altered. Not once. The look was constant, and it was how Sarah knew his love for her was a forever love.
Johnson would do anything for her. He said he would kill for her, and he’s kept his word. Twice.
He also said he would die for her …
Sarah rounded the desk and flashed her husband a seductive smile as he set his tobacco pipe aside and leaned back in his big, black leather chair.
“To what do I owe this treat from my tempting wife?” he drawled, licking his lips as he took in her attire. “Always, always the temptress.”
Swiveling his chair to the side, Sarah swung one leg over and straddled him. As Johnson’s smile grew wider, she grabbed his double-chinned face and began kissing him while she rocked against him, then she lowered a hand under his flabby stomach to check if he was hard. Getting her answer, she broke the kiss and pulled off the red, silk scarf she had tied around her thigh.
“And as always, Mrs. James, you take my breath away,” Johnson said in a voice that was supposed to be breathy, but was wheezy instead.
How literal those words would be …
Sarah held up the scarf, sliding it between her fingers to let him know she was going to cut off his sight. His wheezing grew harsh with excitement as he said, “Playin’ naughty tonight, are we, love?”
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Sarah licked her tongue across her lips to tease him just before she blindfolded him with the scarf.
Johnson blindly reached up, found her breasts and began fondling them, while Sarah unzipped his pants, freed his cock and started stroking him up and down.
As her hand picked up momentum, Johnson groaned aloud. “Lubricant. Top drawer on tha’ left.”
Using one hand to continue the strokes, Sarah leaned back and used her free hand to open the drawer, taking up the lubricant which was sitting right next to the other thing she wasn’t ready to use yet.
She squeezed some lubricant in her palms and began working him. Johnson’s wheezing got louder. “I want to feel you, love.”
Not a chance.
“After,” she lied and began pumping him faster.
“Let me taste you, then. Please,” he begged.
Taking pity on him, she leaned forward and, sightlessly, he reached one of her breasts and began suckling like a starving newborn.
“Ah, ghaad,” he mumbled around her nipple. “I love you so much, Sarah.”
Working him harder, dragging him to the edge he would never fall over, she brought her lips to his ear. “You mean those words, baby?”
“Sarah … they’re the truest words I’ve ever spoken.”
“How much do you love me, baby?”
“More than … Ah, oh ghaad … more than life itself.”
Sarah’s hand worked even faster, she could tell he was near. “Would you kill for me?”
“In a heartbeat. You know this, Sarah!” He growled. “Oh, don’ stop, don’ stop.”
“Would you die for me?” she asked in a more salacious voice, laced with an evil edge.
“Oh, for fuck’s sakes, Sarah, my life is yours! Always yours. Just yours. I love you. Make me fuckin’ come.”
Johnson’s cock steeled in her hand, and Sarah knew he was seconds away from blowing. So, slowly, she started to lean back as she used one hand to stroke him with tighter, more rigid pumps.
“Your life is mine for me to take, right?”
“Right.” He let out that little whimper he usually does right before he climaxes. “Baby, I’m gonna co — ”
The sentence was left unfinished as Sarah pulled his silencer gun from the top drawer and took what was hers.
One single bullet to the head.
Johnson’s body went still while his cock jerked, his semen spilling over, until it went limp and died with him.
Sarah sat on his lap for a minute, staring at her now dead husband. A silencer being on the gun meant there was no mess. Just a tiny hole at the center of his forehead, a trickle of blood trailing down his face toward
his lips. Before the blood could reach his parted lips, she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss.
Then she sighed.
If only he’d just listened to her and visited the fucking gym at least four times a week, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with another man. Johnson would still be the man she fell in love with and none of this would’ve happened. But he’d grown comfortable, slothful, and ate too damn much.
Too bad.
Sarah got up and got to work. First cleaning up Johnson and tucking his flaccid cock back inside his pants. She strategically placed the gun on the left side of his desk — Johnson was left-handed — and knocked a few things from that side of the desk to the floor, making it look as if there’d been a tussle.
She untied the scarf from Johnson’s face and wrapped it around her right hand to be used to set other things askew. She did not clean her fingerprints from the gun because that would raise suspicions. All the guns in the house were licensed and were her guns, too, so her fingerprints were on all of them. An absence of her fingerprints on the murder weapon was a definite red flag. But everything else she had to be careful with.
With her covered hand, she fetched a penknife, went to the far right end of the basement and began slashing through the stacks of cocaine. Detectives tended to analyze every little detail, and she also knew detectives weren’t stupid; good detectives could tell a staged murder scene the minute they entered the room. That’s if, it wasn’t done properly.
Sarah wasn’t being frantic and stupid, but did it properly by meticulously making sure that no two things would coincide, no heavy furniture was overturned, or no out-of-the-way paraphernalia was inexplicably askew. That would make any attempt at deciphering what went down in the meeting with the Mexicans facile.
The prevalent theory would be there was a disagreement with the Mexicans, Johnson pulled his gun, and, with the Mexicans not having their own weapons to defend themselves, they had to tackle Johnson for his gun to kill him. That was the obvious theory. But then, they’d start wondering how and why the cocaine got slashed, etc. That’s how you fuck with know-it-all detectives; they think they have it all figured out, but then, there’s other things that never adds up.