by T L Swan
I can see his cock through my legs and its already hard again. Pre-ejaculate is beading once more, and it begins to drip. God help me.
He adds another finger, which makes me whimper from the burn. He begins to pump me hard, so hard that the bed begins to rock. I can see every muscle in his shoulders and arm contracting from his reflection in the mirror in front of me. Holy fucking God.
He slowly feeds his hard cock into my sex, forcing my mouth to fall open as the pleasure takes over. He rubs saliva into my back entrance and slides his thumb deep inside.
My body instantly convulses.
“Hold it.” He growls.
My knees feel like they are going to give way beneath me. I’ve never felt anything like this. With my hip-bone firmly in his hand, he begins to rock me back onto his body. I’m being taken by his thumb and his cock, and to be honest, I don’t know which feels better.
Brock hisses in approval. “That’s so fucking good, Pocket.”
I nod, unable to speak.
“Do you feel it? Feel how deep I am inside of you?”
I nod again. Oh God, this is too good.
He begins to really give it to me with deep, hard drives, until I can’t even see anymore. His possession has completely blinded me. He raises a leg to rest on the mattress, his other taking his weight, and I cry out at the change of his position, convulsing as I’m thrown forward by a bone-shattering orgasm.
He pulls out of my ass and grabs both of my hip bones in his hands to slam me hard, so hard and fast. He pushes me into the mattress as he takes what he needs from my body.
I feel like I am having an out of body experience.
This is too good, too much, too fucking hard.
“Ah.”
He slams me one, two, three times, and holds himself deep, coming in a rush deep inside of me.
His body begins to quiver and he falls over me, dragging me to the mattress.
And then he kisses me, hits touch soft, tender, and loving. The exact opposite of the beating his cock just gave me. He pulls out and rolls me over so I’m underneath him. I’m like a rag doll in his arms. He is completely in control of my body. If he wanted to take me again now, he could.
He kisses me again and again before he pulls back to look at me. “You want to know something, Tully Pocket?” he whispers as he pushes the hair back from my face.
“What?”
“I’m feeling pretty fucking clingy and attached myself.”
I pull him close. “Glad to know I’m not in this alone.”
I wake to the feel of Brock’s lips on the back of my neck. “Hmm.” I can feel his morning glory up against my behind.
He rolls me onto my back and kisses me. “I’ve got to go to work early, Pock.”
“Okay,” I mumble quietly.
“You don’t have your car here.”
I frown, realising he’s right. “Ugh,” I groan.
“Just stay here and I’ll get you a cab for later.”
I sit up slowly. “No. It’s fine.” I moan as I get out of bed. “I’ll go now.”
He disappears into the bathroom and I hear the shower turn on. “You getting in?”
“It’s too early for showers.”
“Grumpy,” he calls back.
I sit on the edge of the bed as I try to get my bearings. God, what time is it? It must be, like, five or five thirty at the latest. The sun has only just started to rise.
Five seconds later I hear the shower turn off and Brock walks back into the room with a black towel wrapped around his waist.
“How’s my little Come Pocket this morning?” he asks chirpily, walking over to his wardrobe area. “My boys swimming around well in there?”
I scrunch up my face in disgust. “For fuck’s sake, Brock, what is with your nicknames? Don’t call me that.”
He chuckles, and when he comes out dressed, he kisses me and takes me in his arms. “I have drinks tonight with my work friends,” he tells me.
“Okay.”
“Do you want to come?”
I frown. “You want me to meet your work friends?”
“You’ll meet them one day, anyway. May as well get on with it.”
I watch him as he moves to walk around his room all chirpy and shit.
“Okay.”
He looks through his drawer, taking out his gym clothes for after work. “I thought I might take next week off, too.”
“Really?” I frown.
“Yeah.” He walks over and kisses me again. “I kind of thought I might like to take my girl to Hawaii.”
“What? Who are you, and what have you done with Brock?”
He shrugs casually. “Seems only fair. You did cancel your trip because of me.”
I smirk at the progress we seemed to have made. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Now, get in the car or I’m going to be late.”
“I don’t have any clothes on.”
“Find some,” he calls back to me as he disappears down the stairs. “You have five seconds before I leave without you.”
I smile to myself.
Brock Marx. The only man I know who can make me swoon with the most unromantic lines I’ve ever heard.
“Hurry, wench,” he calls from downstairs.
I giggle as I throw my clothes on. “Shut up!” I call back.
“Don’t make me come up there and get you. I am the boss of us, you know.”
I giggle. “Like hell.”
“Right, that’s it.” I hear him running up the stairs two at a time, and I try to run away into the bathroom, but he crash tackles me to the bed making me squeal with laughter.
“You’re going in my car naked.” He tries to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder. I fight him off, but he quickly drags me back beneath him, and the two of us fall serious. I can feel the erection in his pants. He flexes it against my stomach.
“I thought you were running late?” I smirk.
“With the way you feel, baby, I’ll come in two minutes flat.”
He unzips his jeans, holds my leg back, and he slides home.
“What am I going to do with you, Brock Marx?” I whisper up at him.
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Chapter 15
Brock
Date of birth?
I frown as I stare at the online booking form on my computer screen.
Hmm, I didn’t think of that one. I don’t even know her date of birth. I blow out a deep breath and dial her number. It rings a few times until I eventually hear her beautiful, husky voice. “Hi,” she breathes.
I smirk. Just the sound of her makes my cock twitch. “Hello, my Tully Pocket.”
“Ah, my handsome man is calling me at work now. I was right: you are getting clingy and attached to me.”
“Or perhaps I just don’t know your birth date to book the flights.”
“Oh.” She giggles. “You really are a bad private investigator. Don’t you have that stuff on a computer somewhere?”
I smile as I swing from side to side in my chair. “But then I wouldn’t get to hear your sexy voice.”
“This is true. Are you really booking us tickets to Hawaii?” I can tell she’s smiling.
“I told you I was, didn’t I?”
“Well, how long are we going for?”
“Eight days.” I frown to myself. “Or do you want to go for ten?”
“I’ll be sick of you in eight days. I need to give you the money for the ticket.”
I roll my pen across the desk with my fingertips. “I’ll be sick of you in three, and you can pay me back by giving me good head.”
She giggles, and I find myself smiling. She has the most intoxicating laugh. It does things to me that make me want to please her more.
“Okay, so I was born on eleven, oh five, ninety-three.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “You’re twenty-five?”
“How old did you think I was?”
“You look at least thirty-five,” I te
ase.
“Watch it,” she warns playfully. “How old are you?”
“I’m forty- six.”
She bursts out laughing. “You are not.”
I find myself chuckling along with her. “I could be forty-six.”
“Not with that dick’s stamina, you couldn’t.”
I smile. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“See? We’re perfectly matched.” She laughs.
“If you say so.”
“I know so.”
We both fall silent for a moment. I wish I was with her now. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m analysing mud from the sole of a boot. What are you doing?”
I’m booking a flight for a holiday. Quite frankly, I wish we were going today.” I stand and walk over to the window to look out over the park next door.
“Me, too, but three days will come around quickly enough,” she says.
“I know.”
“What time are you picking me up tonight?”
“I’m going to try and squeeze in a session at the gym first. I’ll be there around eight?”
“I can’t wait to see you,” she breathes.
I smile broadly. It feels weird having someone be so open with me. “Me, too.”
“You hang up first.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “I don’t play hang up first games, Pocket. I’m not five.”
“Good, hang up then.”
I smirk and hold on the line.
“See, you do play them. You play them badly, too. I win.” She hangs up on me, and I smile with a shake of my head.
“What the fuck, man?” Jes groans.
I turn suddenly to see Ben and Jes standing in the doorway.
“What are you two fucking doing here?” I snap.
“You hang up,” Ben teases.
“No. You hang up,” Jes mimics in a girl’s voice.
I roll my eyes. “Fuck off, the both of you.” I feel my face redden at them catching me being so soppy. “What?” I snap.
“We have new info.” Ben smiles knowingly. He sits down and produces a large yellow envelope.
I sit back. “What is it?”
“We went through the footage from the hotel, covering the dates when Chancellor was there.”
“And?”
“He was seeing three different girls. Sometimes he would see the same one twice in one week. Other times, he would see different ones.” He slides over images of a woman and Mr. Chancellor entering a room. She has long dark hair and is wearing a short, tight white dress. There are five photograph stills taken from the footage. I flick through them.
“Always the same three women?” I frown.
Ben slides another two images over. There’s one of a woman coming out of his room, and she is blonde, attractive, and wearing a tight black dress.
“Yes. Always the same three women.”
“How many times in total?” I ask.
“It’s gone on for over three years, so in excess of one hundred times.”
I pick it up and study the image. “He knows them well, whoever they are?”
Jes slides another image across. “And this one.”
This image is a close up and I can see her face clearly. “She looks familiar,” I say. She has chocolate brown hair, a killer body, and I find myself leaning back on my chair as I study the image. “I know this woman.” I frown as I try to recall where I know her from.
“Are they definitely escorts?” I ask.
“As far as we can see, that seems to be the case,” Ben tells me.
“Who do they work for?”
“Not sure yet, we’re working on it,” Jes replies.
I swing on my chair as I study the image. “Is this…?” I frown and stare at the girl. “Shit, I think I know who she is.”
“Who?”
“She’s the prostitute who was found dead in the boot of a car down on the docklands.”
Ben begins to type on the keyboard to bring up her records.
“Yes, this is her. Remember? She… she was hogtied in the trunk after being shot in the back of the head,” I stammer, excited I made the connection.
Ben’s eyes widen as he reads the report. “Fuck, look at the date of her death.
September twenty-second.”
My eyes meet his. “That’s the same day Chancellor died.”
I take my keyboard back and begin to search for information on this woman. I wait for it to come up on my screen. “Her name was Talia Thompson.” I read through the notes. “Twenty-three, high-end call girl.” I hit images and a selection of pictures of her come up. Some of them are high quality modelling shots, too.
“She was fucking beautiful,” Jes mutters to himself. “What a waste.”
“I know.” I sigh. “It says here that no known employer was found.” I purse my lips as I think. “Bring up every image that the police ever had of her.”
We go through image after image, and for over an hour we search through all the information we can find.
“Oh my God,” I mutter as I concentrate on the image.
“What?” Jes frowns.
“Look in the right corner of that one.” I point to people in the background of the image.
We all lean in and study the screen. It’s a picture of her at a funeral, and there in the right-hand corner is a man we know. “Kissinger.”
Ben shakes his head. “If she was one of Kissinger’s girls she was always going to die.”
“Who’s Kissinger?” Jes asks.
“An ex-biker smart as a whip, who runs a high-end brothel service in Sydney. He gets his girls addicted to drugs, fucking them up so bad they’ll end up doing whatever he asks of them.”
Jes raises his eyebrows. “Looks like Tahlia didn’t do what she was told.”
I narrow my eyes as I stare at the screen. “Or did she?”
Ben frowns. “What do you mean?”
“What if he had Tahlia kill Chancellor?” I look up Chancellor’s file. “What did he do for work again?”
“I.T.”
I frown as I try to connect the dots. “Hmm, I’m not sure how this all ties together.” I think for a moment. “Was he blackmailing him?” I turn to Ben. “Does this sound familiar to you?”
“I was just going to say the same thing.”
“You think that Chancellor is somehow connected to these girls’ deaths?” Jes asks.
“I think we need to talk to this Kissinger,” Ben says.
“Bring him in.” I reconsider that for a moment. “Actually, I’m taking next week off so wait until I get back.”
“Why are you having a week off?” Ben frowns.
“I’m taking a trip.”
“With who?” Jes asks. “You don’t take trips.”
I turn back to my computer and begin to type. “A friend.”
They both watch me, and I look up. “What?” I snap.
“Tully?” Ben smiles.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just a few days away.”
“Where are you going?” He smirks.
I lick my lips, knowing full well how this is going to sound. “Hawaii.”
Jes chuckles. “Aloha.” He punches me in the arm. “You, like, honeymooning or some shit now? You romantic bastard?”
“Fuck off.” I sigh.
Ben chuckles and massages my shoulders, as if he’s my trainer. “This girl’s got you by the balls. Your tiny, microscopic balls are in the palm of her hand.”
I bat his hand off my shoulder. “She has not.”
He slaps me hard on the back three times. “Happens to the best of us, man.”
They disappear out of my office and I stare at my computer screen for a moment, smirking to myself
Maybe she has a little bit.
Tully
I look at my reflection in the mirror as I reapply my lip gloss. I’m nervous. I’m meeting Brock’s work friends tonight and my stomach is churning. I even went out during my lunch h
our today and bought a new dress.
I turn to look at the back of it in the mirror. It’s a cream mini with thin spaghetti straps that falls into an A-line skirt. It’s cute without trying too hard. I don’t like tight, trying-to-be-sexy clothes. Pants are usually my thing, but I wanted to try to impress tonight. I’m wearing high-heeled, tan strappy sandals with a matching clutch. My long hair is out and straight, and I have on Brock’s favourite bronze lipstick. I’m assuming it his favourite, anyway. Every time I wear it he comments on how fuckable my mouth looks. The security buzzer rings out, and I smile at myself in the mirror. Okay, let’s do this.
“Hello?”
“I’m here to pick up my fuck pocket,” his deep voice purrs.
I giggle. “You do have a way with words, Romeo. Come up.” I push the button to open the front security door. Idiot. Where does he get this shit? Moments later, he appears and my heart sings.
“Hey,” he says softly as he takes me in his arms and kisses my lips.
I cling to him and close my eyes. God, every time I see him I feel closer and closer. I missed him today, and not just his smartass mouth. I missed all of him. It was a soul-deep kind of longing. One I haven’t felt for years.
He holds my face and kisses me again, and it’s like he feels it, too.
“I missed you today,” I whisper.
He smiles down at me and pushes my hair behind my shoulders. “You look fucking beautiful.” He bites my neck and I close my eyes. He bites me harder and I get goose bumps.
God, what this man does to me.
He drops to his knees in front of me and kisses my thigh. “This dress,” he purr’s distracted.
I put my hands on his large shoulders. “Do you like it?”
He lifts it and kisses my sex through my white, lacy panties. “I love it,” he breathes against me. He kisses me again, and then he lifts one of my legs over his shoulders and pulls my panties to the side.
“Just a taste to get me through the night,” he whispers, and his thick tongue swipes through my flesh tenderly.
God, what a greeting. I look down at this beautiful specimen of a man on his knees in front of me, worshipping my body as if it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I feel my heart constrict.
I begin to feel my heart freefall into some kind of abyss. A place where I don’t ever want to return from.
