They shot the shit about old times, and Noonan actually managed to get Courtney laughing out loud by the time she was nursing her second beer. Laughter was a definite shortcut to her bedroom – make her laugh, make her breakfast – which was why she didn’t slap his hand when it fell on her leg without invitation.
Courtney didn’t want to admit that the tips of his fingers were tingling her flesh, and didn’t stop Noonan, or flinch as his hand wandered up her inner thigh then around the edges of her pussy.
She was getting wetter, and by the time the waitress set her third beer on the table – two feet from Courtney’s empty stomach – she was also slightly drunk. Courtney chewed on whether or not she was stupid enough to make such a terrible mistake – again. Hammer hated Noonan with a white-hot heat, both for personal reasons and for the countless hours he’d had to listen to Courtney bitch. Not only would she be pissed at herself, she’d eventually tell Hammer and he’d be pissed, too. Worse, he’d be disappointed.
Courtney found herself surprised that she actually cared so much about what Hammer thought about her.
Courtney eased away from Noonan, pushing her back against the vinyl seat, and shifting her legs. Noonan should have accepted rejection and withdrawn his hand, but he didn’t. Instead he pushed his drink toward the center of the table and added a second hand to the insult, sliding her skirt up and around her waist, then pushing his fingers closer to her slippery middle.
Courtney wasn’t worried about them making a spectacle in the bar. Like always, The Alco-hole was packed, and it seemed even darker than usual. A herd of elephants could have stomped into the room bar, started fucking, and maybe three people would have taken notice.
The last thing she wanted was for Noonan to feel how much honey there was in her pot, then mistake her wanting to fuck for her wanting to fuck him.
Courtney crossed her legs, forcing his hand from between them, then said, “Bad idea, Noonan. Not tonight, not ever.”
She figured that would be that. She might have had a campfire between her legs, but that didn’t mean she would let him roast his wiener. “Come on,” she said, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Let’s get out of here.”
Noonan smiled like an asshole, slipped three of his fingers into his mouth, then still smiling, went from his side of the table to hers, reached underneath, pulled her panties to the side, and slipped two of the three fingers inside her before she could resist.
Or given her reflexes, before she decided she wanted to.
Problem was, Courtney had gone from wet to soaking, and as much as she wanted Noonan to stop, the plunging of his digits felt too damn good to issue the order. The bigger problem was that her moaning told him he didn’t have to.
Noonan finger-fucked her fast enough to hear the sloshing, even over the racket in the bar. She was suddenly too turned on to slow down. She stroked his cock over the outside of his pants, getting further turned on by how fat and hard his fuckstick was.
She wanted him inside her, but still slapped his hand as he went to unzip his pants. “Not here, asshole,” she said.
His lips were on her neck, and his breath was in her ear. Her pussy was still covering his fingers in cunt juice, and his cock was pushing against the wall of his pants. Courtney pulled away and he almost fell backwards, moving his hand from her thigh and pussy, then putting it back on his own lap.
“Too good for me now, agent Grayson?” Noonan slurred. “Are you a cock-tease now?”
“I told you no and you kept going, then I told you not here, and you kept on going. Problem with you, asshole, is that you never fucking listen. So now you can just keep on dreaming, Reggie, because that’s the only way you’re ever getting under the wet of my panties again.”
Reggie looked around the bar, then grabbed her arm, pulled her closer, and jammed his palm down her skirt and along the hair above her pussy, slipping two of his fingers back inside of her, this time all the way to his knuckles.
“If you didn’t want to fuck, my fingers wouldn’t be drenched. So why don’t you quit all the cock teasing so I can take you home and fuck you like you like it.” He leaned closer, pushing his fingers deeper inside, while adding a third. “I can tell you haven’t had it for a while, so I’ll fuck you twice. One for me and one for you. When it’s your turn, I’ll even let you call me Brad.”
Noonan laughed, and it was either his cackle or the smell of alcohol soaking his breath, or maybe both, but Courtney was suddenly pissed. She had her gun out and pressed against Noonan’s cock in a second.
“Just gimme a reason, dipshit,” she growled.
Reggie pulled his hands up from under the table, as his dick shrank under the gun’s weight.
Courtney looked him in the eye, and with her gun still pressed against his suddenly tiny dick, said, “You’re going to call Cooper right now and request a reassignment.”
He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Courtney shut him up by pressing her gun harder against him, likely crushing his balls.
“Whatever you’re gonna say, I don’t want to hear it. I can’t stand the thought of working with you, and I won’t do it one more goddamn day. So you call him, and tell him you can’t work with me.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, frightened and shrinking against Courtney’s growl.
“Do it. Now!”
Courtney kicked him to the other side of the table. Then, with his hand shaking, Noonan pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Cooper, who worked well past sunset on every day with a sunrise. Noonan spoke for nearly four minutes while Courtney nodded in approval at every word, then ended the conversation with a final, “Yes, sir,” and held the phone out for Courtney. “He wants to talk to you.”
Courtney took the phone, smiling. “Yessss?”
Cooper sighed, paused for a few seconds, then said, “We have a strong lead on Willow Monroe.”
Courtney smiled wider. “Go on,” she said.
“Six more bodies showed up in a motel room in Texas, a goddamned carbon copy of your case. I’m not sure what it is Hammer pulled back there, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’s the best one to chase this lead. As of this conversation, he’s off leave and reassigned to you, Grayson. But I’m telling you right now, that they’re just looking for a reason to ditch him. So if either one of you fucks this up, you might be joining him on the unemployment line.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good luck, as always.”
The line went dead.
Courtney said, “Thank you.”
And to Noonan, “Now leave me the fuck alone.”
XXX
Chapter Four – Brad Hammer
Brad tossed and turned and soaked his sheets with sweat.
He was fucking like a rabbit through a forest of dreams, hopping from spot to spot and girl to girl, through an endless magoo of sleep. He must have revisited every hole he’d ever splattered. He was giving a one-night stand from the mid-nineties an especially gooey pearl necklace when everything around him suddenly went white. A second later, he found himself looking into the gorgeous green eyes of Willow Monroe.
The queen of his dreams, the wanted woman, laptop and briefcase thief, and casualty of the drug Red Breath, willing to suck the life from all she fucked.
Willow was a constant shadow in his mind. Brad had craved her since waking up in the Georgian Terrace. He wanted to see her, to talk to her, to fuck her hard and sloppy.
Now was the time.
Willow was sprawled across the largest bed that Brad had ever seen – large enough for a Texas-sized orgy, which might have explained the giant yellow star above her.
Willow was naked, except for the wide brimmed Stetson she wore on her head. Her hair tumbled over both sides of her shoulder, turning her nipples to shadow, and covering the bright pink like she was posing for a trashy photo shoot masquerading as classy.
But the class ended there. Willow’s legs were splayed as wide as physics permitted, and her right
hand was digging into the depths of her dugout.
Willow lifted her head, locked eyes with Brad, then started twisting her right nipple with her left hand as she moaned.
Brad opened his mouth, and Willow shook her head, gesturing for him to stay silent and come nearer. He nodded, then smiled, as he approached the foot of the bed, stopping just inches from a pungent Willow.
Brad climbed onto the bed, then on top of Willow.
He pulled the hat from her head, put it on his own, then pulled her hair behind her neck and devoured her right nipple, sucking furiously before moving to the left.
Willow moaned and writhed and wiggled beneath him. “Fucking CHRIST, this is what I’ve been waiting for,” she purred.
Brad used the bed to prop himself up, buried his face between Willow’s tits, then pounded the whimpers from her body as she screamed for more.
“Fuck ME! Fuck ME! Fuck ME!” Willow screamed, as Brad’s teeth gnashed against her nipples. She arched her back, pushing more of her tit into his mouth, then squealed, “OH MY GOD JUST LIKE THAT!” as Brad’s cock sloshed inside her. “I’ve been waiting for you! You’re the only one who can do this to me!!”
Brad gritted his teeth, then took her wrists, forcing them above her head. Willow wrapped her legs tightly around him; the edges of her pussy were sopping wet and spilling onto the bed. Fresh pools of pussy juice spilled from her over-swollen lips, soaking the bed sheets more with every thrust.
Brad reached between her legs, coating his fingers with her sop, then brought them back to her tits, rubbing it all over her nipples before shoving all four of his fingers into her mouth.
“You like that, don’t you, you slutty Red Breath sucking little bitch?”
Willow whimpered, nodding.
“Undo my zipper,” Brad commanded, releasing her hands.
She unzipped his fly, and freed his cock. Brad shoved her to the back of the bed, then slammed his shaft inside her. Willow was so wet, Brad would’ve felt like he was fucking a glass of water if the muscles of her meat wallet weren’t clutching so tightly to his cock.
Brad splayed his fingers into her thighs, and continued to plow her, mashing his mouth against her, as her sopping hole spasmed around the throb of his cock.
“How about I fuck you from behind,” Brad grunted. He flipped Willow over and entered her from the back, pounding her hard enough to make her entire body shake, reaching under her and rubbing the nub of her clit as he continued to plow her with an unforgiving rhythm.
Willow was lost in an assault of heaving, shuddering orgasms, cumming over and over as her pussy lips latched onto Brad’s dick as though her next breath was dependent upon its grip. “I love the way you fuck me, Brad Hammer!” she screamed.
Brad’s fat fuckrod throbbed inside her. He groaned, then shot himself to empty, mostly inside Willow, pulling out after the fourth blast and lobbing her body with thick globs of steaming goo.
Still hard, Brad plunged back inside her, cumming repeatedly. After what felt like his fifth climax, though he couldn't be sure, Brad collapsed onto the bed beside her.
Willow lay beside him, breathless.
They spent long and lingering minutes inside their shared dream, slowly recovering. Finally, when their breathing was rising and falling as one, Willow turned to him. “Have you killed anyone yet?”
Brad looked at her, puzzled. “No,” he said.
“But you will. It’s only a matter of time. The hunger grows and grows, and soon, you won’t have a choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you, you’re infected. I don’t know if Richard knew what he was doing, but he’s turned me into something. A succubus or some kind of vampire of some sort. And now you’ve got it. I can feel it.”
Brad stared at her, knowing he should feel anger, hate, or something at what she’d done to him. But at the same time, it was as if his brain had stopped thinking of the shit it should be thinking about. All he could think of was sex, with her.
Willow purred, “Hey, you wanna see me play?”
Brad raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Wanna see me play with a toy? I’ll tease you until you can’t stand it, then after you beg me like a good boy, I’ll let you stick it in.”
“You or me?” he asked.
“Me, silly.”
Willow reached over and opened the drawer of the nightstand which suddenly appeared from nowhere, and withdrew a giant red dildo from inside – the largest Brad had ever seen – with ridges and glitters and sparkles.
“Can’t I just fuck you instead?” Brad asked, curling his fingers around his full blown and almost painful hard-on.
“No,” she said, laughing. “Not yet.”
Willow opened her mouth impossibly wide, then shoved the red dildo inside, smothering it with her mouth, and tongue and lips. After a minute or two, she trailed the toy to her belly, then slightly into the entrance of her pussy, where she slowly shoved it in and out with a speed that made Brad feel like he was inches from crazy.
The red dildo started to vibrate, and ... he could feel it.
He could feel it as if it were stimulating him, not her. And then, as their eyes locked, he realized that they were connected, mind and body.
“What did you do to me?” he asked, torn between fear and ecstasy.
Brad woke up, his eyes shooting open as his cell phone hammered the nightstand beside him. Still groggy and rock-hard, he looked at the number and mumbled, “Morning, Grayson. Great to hear from you. What’s up?”
He had to hold the phone a few inches from his ear as Grayson yelled, “Get on your cowboy boots. We have a lead on Willow. We’re going to Texas. I’ll be by to pick you up in 20 minutes.”
Brad wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to hear Willow was in Texas. He could have told Grayson himself. “Can you make that thirty? I’ve just had a hell of a dream, and need to clean up.”
“I hope those two thoughts aren’t related. And if they are, that’s nasty, Hammer, just fucking nasty.”
“You love me and you know it,” he said with a laugh. He wasn’t sure, but it sounded like maybe she was laughing, too.
“You have a half hour, but not a minute more. After that I’m coming in, and I don’t care how dirty you are.”
Brad agreed, then hung up, wrapping his hands tighter around his cock, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking of Grayson’s breasts, her supple lips, her sexy tongue.
Less than a minute later Brad was covering his hand in cum, imagining it spraying all over Grayson’s face.
XXX
Chapter Five – Brad Hammer
In a hotel room recently occupied by Willow Monroe, deep in the heart of Texas, Grayson and Hammer tore through drawers, the bathroom wastebasket, and even the toilet tank, trying to find any clue which might lead them an inch closer to the whereabouts of a certain semen sucking succubus.
The forensics team had already been there and filled them in on the scene when they arrived. A repeat of good ole doc’s death scene. Six women, dead. The only thing missing from this scene were the copious amounts of semen.
The agents were often engaged in a quiet, competitive race to see who would uncover the first clue. This round went to Grayson. Brad’s head was beneath the bed when Grayson yelled, “Check it out, Hammer. I’ve found it!”
Brad banged his head on the underside of the box spring, lifting it to look. “So what did you find?”
“Take a look at this,” she said, turning on the bedside lamp to illuminate the receipt which had slipped behind the table:
Two drinks, $14 spent at Bottoms UP! from last night.
“Bet you a Benjamin this is a strip club,” Grayson said.
Brad would’ve bet ten times more than that. He could clearly see Willow dancing on the stage in the club, and though the vision was in his mind, it wore the sheer gauze of memory. Brad shook the image from his head, but his eyes immediately drifted to the lamp on the nightstand, and the cutout wi
th a cowboy riding a bucking horse, which first had Brad flashing back to the Stetson wearing Willow from his lucid dream earlier.
Grayson slapped Brad on the cheek and said, “Stop daydreaming about dipping your dick, Hammer. We’re getting nowhere.”
“Sorry.” he said, then pointed to the bar tab. “Must have used them to soften her meal.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Grayson slipped the receipt into an evidence bag, then headed for the door. “Come on, let’s head to the club and see what we can find. Maybe we’ll luck out and she’ll be there.”
“Yeah,” Brad said, somehow certain she would be, and suddenly afraid of what would happen when they came face to face outside of the dream. He’d always known how to put his job first, even when he didn’t want to, at least most of the time. But that was before Red Breath had swallowed the cells inside him.
Brad knew what Grayson didn’t, and what he hoped she never would: when it came to he and Willow, Monroe held all the cards.
They crossed the lobby and Brad opened the door, holding it open for Grayson as they both stepped into the brilliant Texas sun. “You okay, Hammer?” she asked, opening the door to their SUV.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, shielding his eyes and stepping inside.
A part of Brad wanted to be honest, to tell Grayson the truth. He was not fine. He was anything but fine, in fact. He was infected, and might become the very monster they were hunting.
Or, he was going nuts and imagining the whole thing. Either way, he was fucked. And not in a good way.
XXX
Brad could feel Willow inside his head, and in his blood, as they swung into the parking lot of Bottoms UP!. He wasn’t sure if he could actually read her thoughts, or whether it was his overactive and Red Breath-fueled imagination, just like he wasn’t really sure if the morning’s dream was as real as it seemed.
“Classy,” Grayson said, slamming the door of the SUV, and gesturing toward the giant blinking neon in front of Bottoms UP!, sporting the bright pink silhouette of an hourglass shaped vixen, ass in the air and perfect titties pointing at the floor.
The XXX Files Season One (Episodes 1-4) Page 8
