by T C Archer
“Who the hell are you?” Jimmy demanded.
Fontana grinned. Seemed the Bull didn’t like visitors.
He looked exactly like his online photo. He had his jet-black hair slicked back and had flabby jowls like a Greduvian bulldog. He wore a black-striped vest, a fat, puffy necktie, and a blood red dress shirt.
“What do you want?” he growled.
She closed the door and pulled the pool cue from her waistband. “I’m here for the codes. Hand them over, or I get rough.” When in Rome…
He stared for a long moment, then laughed. A rush of adrenaline jumpstarted her heart. He wanted to be pummeled by a lead-filled stick? This was what she’d hoped for.
Fontana surveyed the room. Three wooden cabinets sat against the left wall, alongside a floor lamp. A coatrack was located beside the door, and a guest chair faced Jimmy’s desk. The chair. Fontana tightened her grip on the pool cue and took two steps forward as she swung the heavy end at the chair. The impact stung her hands but made a satisfying crack. The chair slid across the floor and hit the wall.
The Bull stopped laughing. “Get out before I mess up your pretty face.”
She brought the cue down on his banker’s lamp. The green lampshade dented. The lamp flipped end over end onto the floor.
He jerked the desk drawer open. His hand came up aiming a revolver at her. “Dames like you need to be taught a lesson. I’ll give you to my boys—after I finish with you.”
Fontana lifted a brow. Beam and explosives were today’s lethal weapons of choice. She’d never seen a revolver. The old weapons were ass backward. Instead of an explosion at the target, the explosion was inside the weapon—which didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. But this was all a game. Still, it might be entertaining to hear that prop gun go poof.
She pointed the pool cue at him. “How about I break your legs?” Fontana couldn’t resist another grin. She was really getting the hang of things.
He fired. The cue shattered out of her hand. The gunshot rang in her ears as her arm jammed back with force. Pain radiated from her hand clear to her shoulder.
“What the—” Fontana started toward him, then stopped short when he leveled the barrel at her stomach. Footfalls sounded in the hall. She yanked her head in the direction of the door.
“Move, and I’ll pump you full of lead,” the Bull said.
She shifted her gaze back to him. Her wrist started to throb. Fontana narrowed her eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
He grinned, then shifted the barrel to her left and fired.
Chapter Nine
The revolver report almost deafened Fontana. Stinging debris hit her back, and she whirled. A new bullet hole smoked in the fake wood of the doorjamb. Two heartbeats later, the door banged open. The tall, skinny, laser-beam man they’d seen in the pool hall held Brent, his arms pinned behind his back.
Fontana looked from Laser-beam Man to his companion, a short, stocky brute she didn’t recognize. He gave her a wide grin, causing ugly rifts and craters in his pockmarked face that looked like it had been scarred by some weaponized nanomachines. She frowned. What had gone wrong with the simple game of pool Brent had been playing with the thugs? He was supposed to keep them busy until she had gotten the codes from Jimmy.
Laser-beam Man wrenched one of Brent’s arms up and pushed him forward. Brent’s jaw visibly tensed, but he remained calm as he stepped into the room.
“Break his arm, and I won’t like it,” Fontana murmured.
Amusement flickered in Brent’s eyes, and she wanted to box his ears. He wouldn’t think it was funny if they did break his arm. She faced the Bull—and the revolver still trained on her midsection. She could vault the desk and take him, but he could get off a shot, maybe two. Weapons weren’t allowed on the fantasy planet, but she was pretty certain those bullets were lethal. That brought back the memory of Spacer Jack’s back door being blasted off its hinges. Someone could have gotten hurt. Was the resort really reckless enough to allow real weapons? Weren’t they concerned someone would get hurt on their fantasy vacation?
She lifted her gaze to the Bull’s face. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Us?” He waved the revolver to the left. “Get over there by the wall.”
Fontana eased back a step. He waved the barrel again, and she retreated two more steps.
Jimmy the Bull addressed Laser-beam Man. “Get some rope.”
Laser-beam Man gave Brent’s arm a twist. Brent’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t utter a peep. The man released him and disappeared out the door.
“Strip him,” Jimmy said.
Mr. Pockface slugged Brent in the back of the neck with a forearm. Brent dropped to his knees. Fontana started toward him.
“Uh-uh,” the Bull warned.
She froze.
Brent held up a hand. “It’s okay, Fawn. Won’t be the first time I’ve been stripped in this fantasy.”
“Fawn,” Jimmy said with amusement. “I’ve got something special for you.”
“Take off your jacket and pants,” Pockface ordered Brent.
Brent pushed to his feet. He stripped off his jacket, then pulled open the fasteners on his waistband and pushed the trousers past his hips. If not for the revolver pointed at her, Fontana would have laughed. It seemed Brent just couldn’t help ending up naked in his fantasy. Though she couldn’t complain. His legs were a work of art. He abruptly paused in shucking the trousers from his second leg, and Fontana realized he was staring at the splintered doorjamb.
His gaze shifted to the gun Jimmy pointed, then to her, his eyes suddenly dark with anger, and Fontana realized he’d heard the shot but hadn’t known real bullets had been involved. Laser-beam Man appeared in the door, and Brent broke his stare, then kicked his pants from his leg. Laser-beam Man crossed to him and Pockface.
“Strip her too,” the Bull said.
That gruesome smile split Pockface’s cheeks again. He took a length of rope from Laser-beam Man, then strode to her. He pulled her jacket off and tossed it aside. When he seized her arms and yanked them behind her back, Brent’s eyes narrowed. Fontana gave a tiny shake of her head. For an instant, she thought he would act anyway, but he remained motionless. She shifted her attention back to the Bull as Pockface tied her wrists behind her back.
Pockface outweighed her by seventy kilos, but she could take him down. It was the damn ancient weapon aimed at her that had her worried. What was going on with this so-called fantasy? She’d never heard of a fantasy going wrong on Sagitariun. Pockface reached around and yanked open the waistband on her trousers. He rubbed against her, and Fontana detected the beginning of an erection.
“This is going too far.” Brent started toward her, but the thin man yanked him back.
Pockface spun Fontana around to face him.
“Son of a bitch,” Brent growled behind her, and sounds of a scuffle began.
Pockface grasped the waistband of her trousers to pull them down. Fontana kneed him in the balls. Pain blasted from her kneecap as it contacted something hard. A cup, she realized as her knee gave way. She dropped to the floor. The asshole was wearing a cup!
He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. Tiny splinters of pain shot through her scalp. She grunted. Laser-beam Man appeared at her side, and she glanced to the right to see Brent on the floor, hands tied behind his back. He pulled against the bindings, his gaze locked on her face. She mouthed the words not real as Pockface held her motionless while Laser-beam Man yanked her trousers to her ankles. Pockface spun her around so that she was facing Jimmy.
He rounded the desk toward her. Thankfully, he no longer held the revolver. Fontana scanned the desktop, but it wasn’t in sight. He’d probably put it back in the drawer.
He unbuttoned his vest. “I’m going to show you why they call me the Bull.” He jerked his head toward Brent as he unfastened his trousers. “Your friend might learn something.” Jimmy pulled out a massive cock, big as any bull’s penis, with blue, pulsing veins that thickene
d as she stared.
“What the hell?” Brent cursed.
Fontana grimaced. The damn thing hung nearly to the Bull’s knees.
He gripped his flaccid dick around the middle. “They say bulls are jealous of my cock. You’re going to love it inside you. All the women do.”
She snorted. “You can’t.”
“I will.” He stroked himself, and his dick began to harden.
Laser-beam Man laughed. “All the women love the Bull so much they scream for more.”
Fontana stared. The mammoth cock was thickening. It had to be enhanced. This couldn’t be real. She split a glance between the Bull’s two smirking men. There were only three of them. That was one and a half against three –- if Brent was of much help. His heart was in the right place, but how much fighting experience could an engineer possibly have?
Stephaney would say she’d made a mistake in assuming even a staged operation wasn’t dangerous. Stephaney would say she’d made a mistake in accepting any operation as being staged. Fontana’s hands were tied behind her back, her pants were down around her ankles, and Jimmy the Bull was threatening to fuck her with his monster dick. Stephaney would be right.
Pockface took two steps, squatted beside Brent, and yanked open the front of his shirt. Brent’s white tie lay stark against his tanned flesh. Why strip Brent? Given the two times he’d streaked naked in public, she’d thought it was funny earlier. But this didn’t make sense. A mental picture flashed of Pockface and Laser-beam Man taking turns fucking Brent as the Bull pinned her beneath his behemoth body. Her stomach roiled; then anger shot to the surface. These actors needed to be treated the way she would treat assholes in the real world.
Fontana dropped to her ass and kicked Pockface. He tumbled over Brent, face-first. Pockface shrieked and rolled to his feet, his hand cradling a bleeding nose. Brent jumped up and charged Jimmy like a ram. Fontana kicked off her pants as Brent buried his head in Jimmy’s gut. They crashed into the desk.
Laser-beam Man lunged for her. Fontana leaped up. She planted a roundhouse kick across his jaw. He staggered back. She rammed a shoulder into his gut, and they both went down. She drove all her weight into his sternum on impact. His skull hit the floor with a hollow thud. He went limp.
Fontana sprang to her feet. “Let’s go!”
Brent stood over Jimmy, who lay on the floor beside the desk, blinking as if trying to focus. Brent gave him a vicious kick in the kidney, then whirled toward the door. Pockface was rising to his knees, moaning. He clutched his bloody face. Fontana kneed him in the nose. He screamed in pain.
Brent appeared at her side. “Come on,” he ordered.
She turned and followed him out the room and down the hall. She and Brent looked at each other, and she knew he was thinking what she was: What about the two other thugs who’d been playing pool with him earlier?
Hands tied, she and Brent burst out into the poolroom. A young man stood behind the bar. His mouth dropped open, but he didn’t move. Fontana gained the lead and shouldered out the door onto the well-lit sidewalk. Brent followed. A couple to the left stopped and stared. A man in a Model A slowed, his gaze glued on Fontana. An autonomous taxi approached. Fontana lunged into its path. The cab screeched to a halt. Brent twisted so that he could grab the door handle and yank it open.
“Get out!” he shouted to the male passenger wearing a zoot suit.
The man’s eyes widened, and he scrambled from the seat.
“Get in,” Brent ordered Fontana.
She jumped in and snapped to the cabbie, “Hotel Baba Ghanoush,” as Brent fell on the seat beside her.
Laser-beam Man burst out of the pool hall, a Tommy gun in his arm. He halted, his stare on them.
“Go!” Fontana shouted at the cabbie.
Laser-beam Man fired the machine gun. Rapid-fire muzzle flashes shot from the weapon and lit up the night. The man Brent had ejected from the cab dove for cover in the street. Brent shoved Fontana down and covered her. No glass broke, and no thump of bullets striking the car sounded. Fontana became aware of the thunder of Brent’s heart and his bare legs tangled with hers.
An urge shot to the surface to wrap her legs around his waist and rub her pussy against him until his cock was rock hard and she came in blinding pleasure. He pushed upright and peered out the back window. Fontana followed suit and stared as the pool hall receded into the distance.
He turned his back to her. “Untie me.”
Fontana turned her back to him and worked loose the ropes. He shook them off, then startled her by seizing her shoulders and turning her to face him.
“Where the hell did that real weapon come from?” His fingers flexed on her skin. “And Jimmy—”
Brent glanced through the back window again, and Fontana was struck with the idea that he was thinking of going back to finish what he’d started with that vicious kick to Jimmy’s ribs.
“It was all staged,” she said, despite her doubts.
His head snapped back around. “Was it?”
His anger had turned to fury. He was furious because he thought she had been in danger. She stared. When was the last time someone had tried to save her? Fontana caught sight of the bulge pressing against the white fabric of his underwear. Adrenaline was working through him in a bad way. And she wasn’t unaffected. Her heart raced, and her pussy throbbed with need. Just like his cock must be throbbing. She started to reach out to stroke his erection but was stopped by the ropes that still bound her hands. Aw, well, a girl worked with what she had.
Chapter Ten
Fontana lowered her head.
“Fontana.”
Brent’s spoken word turned to a growl when she nipped the mushroom head of his cock through the fabric of his underwear. Her body clenched. He was rock hard and smelled of pure male musk. Fontana gingerly snagged the waistband with her teeth and pulled it back. His cock sprang free, slapping her cheek as it bobbed to attention. He was magnificent. Velvety flesh over hard, long steel and already leaking precum. Brent grasped his underwear, and she released the fabric. Before he had it shoved past his hips, she was swiping her tongue around the tip of his cock and licking it clear to the base.
He dragged in a harsh breath. She sucked the sensitive underside on the way up and took him in her mouth. He thrust, shoving the rod deep into her throat. She pulled back, and her nipples brushed his naked thigh through her shirt. One large hand fisted her hair while the other reached between them and brushed a thumb across her right nipple. The fabric of her shirt rubbed across the granite peak. She took him inside her mouth again. His groan filled the small space as she moved faster. Brent pinched her nipple. Dammit, she needed her hands free, needed to touch herself. Fontana pulled back, raking her teeth across his shaft.
“Fawn.” His fingers tightened in her hair as he fucked her mouth.
Her clit throbbed, and she wondered if she would come just from listening to his moans. He palmed her breast, kneading the flesh. He thrust faster, and she took all he had to give. His breath hitched. He had to be close. Brent seized her shoulders and yanked her mouth from his cock. Her head swam. He clasped her waist and hoisted her onto his lap. He fisted his cock and held her steady as he shoved her panties aside and jammed her down on him.
Fontana cried out in pleasure. She wobbled. Brent clasped her waist tighter. She lifted on her knees and slid down on him until her mound collided with his pelvis. She lifted again, and this time, he thrust to meet her. His cock rammed into her cervix. Pleasure/pain radiated through her. Brent yanked loose the fasteners on her shirt. Her white tie swung between them as she rose and fell on his cock. With a growl, he leaned forward and sucked a nipple through her bra. Fontana gulped for air.
Brent groaned and released her nipple. His thrusts grew frenzied. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a woman in the cab one car-length back in the lane next to them. There was something about the woman—orgasm washed over Fontana. Pleasure flooded her senses. Brent groaned. Her vaginal walls milked his c
ock with a more intense spasm.
His shaft swelled inside her. His fingers tightened on her waist as he held her in place when his thrusts threatened to shove her into the roof. He ground his cock into her with a final shudder, then collapsed back on the seat and pulled her against him. She lay motionless, the thunder of his heart all she was aware of until, at last, his breathing slowed.
“I still want to kill that motherfucker,” he said.
Fontana laughed and slid off him.
Brent grasped her arm. “Let’s get those ropes off you.”
She turned, and he undid the ropes. When he was finished, she straightened her panties, then leaned back against the seat. Brent grasped her wrists and examined them. Red marks marred her skin where the rope had rubbed.
“I should have taken these off you before…” His gaze lifted to her face. “Your mouth was on me, and my mind went blank.”
Feminine pride surfaced. “I can live with that.” She remembered when they’d been at the Roman bath and his cock had hung between her legs; she couldn’t think of anything either but shoving it inside him. They really had to try that experience again.
His brows snapped into a frown; then he grinned. “You okay?”
“Better than okay.” Did she dare suggest going back to the baths?
Something flickered in his eyes but was gone before she could define it. He kissed each wrist, then released her and leaned against the cushion. “What happened back there?”
“Jimmy was waiting for me.”
“Waiting?”
Fontana closed her shirt and began buttoning it. “He had that revolver a little too handy. I figured he was playing the part of a 1920s mobster so was in the habit of keeping a weapon nearby, but there was something in his eyes when I showed up. He wasn’t surprised to see me.”
