by KD Robichaux
“Fuck, baby. Please,” I groan, both loving and hating the fact she’s the only woman who can make me beg. The urge to close my eyes and just feel her comes over me, but I don’t want to look away from her. There’ve been too many long nights I’ve spent dreaming about her face to not keep my gaze locked on her while she’s actually here, in my presence, mounting me and bringing me to my knees the way only she can.
She sits up abruptly, reaching for my belt, and I sigh in relief that she’s giving in so easily. She usually likes to tease me for hours before finally giving me a real taste of her. But that relief comes to a halt at her wicked grin. I lift my hips slightly, allowing her to pull the belt free from the loops when she tugs, my brow furrowing in confusion.
She purses her lips in a sexy taunt before lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Aww, you didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you, big guy?” she purrs, and she loops the belt around my wrists, tightening the leather until my hands are locked together above my head.
I could get out of it easily, but I don’t want to. I love it when she toys with me like this. She’s the only one I play this game with, the sole person in the entire world I trust enough to give my own submission to. I may be a Dom, but for her, for my Clarice, I become a switch. It does something for my soul that I can’t explain, and I know it does the same for her, something we never talk about, something she’s never opened up to me about in all the years we’ve been friends and have taken turns letting the other dominate.
“Now,” she chirps, reaching for the hem of her tee and peeling the tight material over her head. My Adam’s apple moves in my throat as I swallow audibly. So goddamn perfect. “What’s your mission, soldier?” She starts with the top button of my flannel and begins unfastening each one.
“I-uh… I have to rescue a chick who’s been kidnapped. She uh…” I gulp when she finishes with the flannel and reaches for the button of my jeans. God, she makes me so weak. “She was something of an escort, a companion. And her sugar daddy didn’t like it when she told him she wanted to end things.” I signed a non-disclosure agreement, so I’ll keep my mouth shut about Infidelity, but I trust Clarice and know she’ll keep the details I confide in her to herself.
She tugs down my zipper. “He abused her?”
My hips instinctively lift to press against her heat. “None that was reported.”
She hops off me, and I fight back a whimper at the loss of her touch. She may make me weak, but I’ll be damned if I fucking whimper like a little bitch. I lift my head to watch her as she unlaces my boots and pulls them from my feet along with my socks. And then I rock from side to side as she tugs on my jeans, allowing her to yank them down my legs before they disappear. She reaches behind her, unfastening her bra before letting it fall to the floor, and then she hovers over me and begins to slide her tits from my ankles, all the way up to the tops of my thighs, my hairy legs turning her puffy pink nipples into hard little points.
“Are there any leads?” she breathes along the elastic of my boxer briefs before grasping hold of it with her teeth.
I gulp before replying, “None yet.” She tugs the fabric over my aching cock. “Fuck, baby.” I long to flip her over and bury myself deep inside her wet, molten core, but instead, I bask in the sweetness of surrendering to her wants. I’m sure it’s an amazing feeling for her, for such a giant of a man to submit, knowing she has so much power over me. And I love the fact I can make her feel powerful, that I can do all that for her just by receiving the pleasure she wants to give me.
“Then whatever will we do to pass the time?” she asks, fake worry contorting her features as she stands at the foot of the bed after baring me from the waist down.
As if to answer her, my cock juts upward on its own, and the sound of her sweet giggle fills the room.
“Aww, does somebody want some attention?” She pouts as her eyes lock on my pulsing erection.
“Please,” I groan, a single milky drop of precum oozing from the tip.
“Poor baby. He’s crying,” she whispers, her eyes showing sorrow as she crawls up my body once more. “Maybe I should kiss him to make him feel better.”
I nod, unable to speak as I look down my body, her braced above my hips, her eyes never breaking contact with mine as she leans down and swipes her tongue up my length. I hiss as if she’s burned me with her fiery touch, and the sound makes her grin impishly. She grasps hold of my steeled cock and engulfs the head with her searing mouth, and it takes everything in me not to thrust deeper. I learned my lesson the last time I wasn’t able to control my instincts. She stopped and wouldn’t continue for a full day, after making me promise I wouldn’t jack off. And I’d never break a promise to Clarice, so it was pure torture until she gave me relief twenty-four hours later.
She releases my cock with a pop, smiling up at me. “Such a good boy,” she purrs, and then straddles me. She takes my shaft in her tight fist before lining me up with her dripping heat beneath her skirt. I hadn’t realized until now that she’s not wearing any underwear. The knowledge is equally hot as it is infuriating, but I force myself to remain in my submission. I will have to scold her later for going around without panties on, when a draft of air at the right angle could bare her to someone’s eyes… someone’s that aren’t mine.
But for now, I close my eyes and savor the feeling of my length disappearing inch by slow inch as she lowers herself until she has me fully seated inside her. And then she begins to move, and I lose all sense of the world except for the place where our bodies are joined together to become one.
She rides me with vigor, her movements desperate as she chases her orgasm, the look on her impossibly gorgeous face telling me she is so close she can almost taste it. I know I could get her there if she’d allow me to touch her, but she hasn’t released my hands, indicating she doesn’t want me to break from my surrender.
She drops herself so hard I feel the head of my dick punch against her cervix, and as she grinds herself in circles, my vision goes blurry at how goddamn perfect she feels. My breath comes out in pants as I try to stave off my orgasm, refusing to blow my load until my beautiful mistress has gotten her blissful release.
Her movements turn jerky, less graceful as her face contorts with her concentration. And finally, “Now, Bri!” leaves her on a panicked whimper as her body folds in on itself, her face planting against my chest as I feel her walls tighten around me in a viselike grip. The pressure valve inside me releases and I come so hard I’m scared the power behind my orgasm will hurt her. So I try to be as still as possible while my cock pulses, emptying jet after jet of cum inside her, as she melts on top me.
“Damn, big guy,” she sighs against my chest, her hot breath tickling my nipple. “That never gets old.”
I chuckle beneath her, then work my hands out of the belt, my arms coming down around her to hold her against me as I roll her until I’m on top, my cock still firmly planted inside her depths. “I have no doubt it ever would with you, lover,” I tell her, leaning down to rub my nose against hers.
She allows herself a split second of the dreamy look in her eyes before she blinks it away, changing the subject. “So what’s your plan of attack for rescuing this girl?”
“Tonight, I’m going to make a few stops at some of the hotels he owns, see if anyone has seen him around. Hopefully, Seth will have something pop up in all his computer sorcery that will give me something to go on,” I tell her, and slide gently out of her, watching her wince. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”
She smiles up at me sleepily. “Technically, I would’ve hurt myself. I was the one bouncing around on your disco stick. But I’m fine. It’s just been a while… and God blessed you.”
I chuckle, moving to the bathroom to wet a washcloth with hot water. When I return to her, she spreads her knees for me, and I press the steaming cotton to her swollen flesh. She loves it when I do this for her, claiming she’d never been taken care of after sex before she met me. For me though, aftercare is one o
f the best parts of making love to her. It’s one of the only times she allows me to treat her like the queen I see her as.
“You know, the first time I met you, I wondered if you were going to be an Elliot Richards situation.” She grins.
“Who the hell is Elliot Richards?” I ask, jealousy evident in my voice.
“Elliot Richards, in Bedazzled. The part when Brendan Fraser uses one of his wishes to become a basketball player. He’s huge, like seven feet tall, and the chick he’s in love with is a sports reporter. She follows him into the locker room to seduce him, thinking his wang is going to match the rest of his giant frame,” she explains, her grin still in place.
“And did it?” I prompt, removing the cloth and positioning my shoulders between her legs.
She glances down her delicious body to meet my eyes as I take a long, slow swipe up her folds, flattening my tongue against her and allowing the heat of my mouth to soak into her abused flesh, soothing her.
“No. He had a micropenis, and when he saw it, he started yelling ‘Damn the devil! Damn the devil to hell!’ Because she—the devil, I mean—kept messing up his wishes,” she rambles, never looking away from my gaze. It’s the only hint I get that I affect her the same way she affects me.
The pure eroticism of staring into each other’s eyes while I gently eat her pussy has me hardening once more, but feeling how swollen she is, I won’t take her again tonight. If she hasn’t had sex since the last time we met up, then it’s been a little over a month. But that’s not something we discuss. We have a mutual respect and trust for each other. We really are each other’s best friend. We know the other is clean, and she is on birth control, and we promised we’re the only ones we’d not use a condom with.
“So you were already thinking about the size of my dick the first time you met me?” I murmur against her slick folds, and her hips make a circle against my lips.
“Big guy, I’m sure that’s what all women think when they first meet you. ‘I wonder if his cock matches the rest of him,’” she mocks the last part in a valley girl voice. “Bitches,” she adds under her breath, and a smile spreads across my face at her slip of jealousy.
“And does it?” I prompt, just to egg her on as I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue.
She bites her lip, her brow furrowing in pleasure, before she attempts to redeem her sassiness. “You fishing for compliments, Jolly Green?” Her head then presses back against the mattress as her hands shoot into my hair when I nip at her bundle of sensitive nerves before sucking it into my mouth, releasing her with a loud sound of suction.
“I just love hearing you talk, beautiful. And even more when it’s about my cock,” I tell her, and then stop messing around. I set upon her pussy like a starved man, eating her with fervor until she’s a writhing, drenched mess beneath me. When her inner thighs tremble, I know she’s about to come, so I put all the focus on her clit until she explodes.
She cradles my head against her, holding me there as if her life depends on it. And I savor this perfect moment, the few seconds when she’s vulnerable and her walls come down, and bask in the fact I’m the one she’s hanging onto.
CHAPTER 4
After tucking Clarice beneath the sheets in the king-size bed, I dress and head out for some recon. I start with LaRue Hotel Manhattan, since it’s the closest. Walking into the lobby through the rotating doors, I move to the concierge desk.
“Bonjour, monsieur,” the man in uniform greets me. “How may I assist you?”
I pull the picture of Quincy, which I’d taken from the folder, out of my back pocket and hold it up to face him. “Have you seen this woman? She’s been reported missing,” I ask, and watch his face carefully.
He takes the photo from my hand and looks closely. “She… this is Mademoiselle Herald,” he replies, his French accent thick. “She is missing?” His confused eyes lift to meet mine.
“Yes. When was the last time you saw her?” I question. I study his microexpressions, seeing his eyes stare straight ahead as he thinks back, so I know he’s actually trying to remember instead of thinking up a lie.
“Two… no three days ago. Today is Tuesday, and I believe it was Saturday when I saw her having breakfast in the restaurant with Monsieur LaRue. Is he the one who reported her missing?” the concierge asks worriedly.
“I’m not at liberty to answer that question during the investigation,” I reply. “So you have not seen her since then?”
“No, sir.” He shakes his head. “Come to think of it, I have not seen Monsieur LaRue since then either. They’re usually attached at the hip.”
“Thank you for answering my questions. If you see either Mr. LaRue or Ms. Herald, please contact me at this number.” I hand him a card with my cell number on it. “This investigation is a private one, so please keep all of this to yourself,” I tell him, hoping for just the opposite. If word gets back to Jean LaRue that someone was here at this location looking for him, he’ll be less likely to move here, knocking off a hiding spot from the long list.
As I exit the hotel, stepping out on the mostly empty sidewalk, since it’s nearly 10:00 p.m., I grab my cell out of my pocket as it begins to ring. Seeing it’s Seth, I hope for good news. “What you got?” I greet.
“Bruh, you got a letter in your mailbox. Might want to pick that wedgie,” he replies, and my hand shoots to my ass.
“I do not, fuckface. Is there a point to your call?” I growl, looking behind me.
“Just kidding. But you might want to fix your sex hair before questioning anyone else. Kinda hard to find you an intimidating authority figure when you look like you just got done letting someone ride you like a pony,” Seth informs me, and I reach up to comb my fingers through my dark blond hair.
“So I take it you’ve been able to hack into their surveillance systems?” I prompt, wondering about the location of the camera he’s currently watching me from.
“I’m having to go inside each hotel’s cameras and turn them back on, while also making sure to keep the images from showing up on the monitors in their security rooms. I know, I know. I’m a badass motherfucker,” he boasts.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the concierge I just questioned seemed genuinely surprised when I told him about our missing person. No shiftiness. If he had seen her or his employer and tried to hide the fact from me, I would’ve been able to spot it. He said he hadn’t seen either of them since Saturday at breakfast. So this location can be crossed off the list.”
“One down, a couple to go. Well, hotels anyway. God only knows where they could be if he’s somewhere else,” Seth mumbles.
“True story. But in the update you e-mailed me, it looks like he doesn’t have any other residences. He just lives in the penthouses at each of his hotels.” I glance at my watch, walking over to the valet to retrieve my SUV, handing him my ticket.
“Let’s just hope he’s spending the time trying to convince her to stay by lavishing her with gifts and luxury while whispering sweet nothings. I like that option much more than the idea of her being held prisoner and him doing… not so nice things to her.” His voice quiets on the last part, probably thinking back to what happened to his wife, Twyla.
The valet pulls up with my SUV, and I hand him a tip as I switch places with him. “There was no history of violence. No reports against this Jean LaRue guy. In his profile for Infidelity, he didn’t even put BDSM or rough sex as one of his interests. In fact, even in Quincy’s profile, it says she would prefer a platonic companionship behind closed doors. They wouldn’t have matched her with this guy if that wasn’t something he was down with. Unless he thought he could convince her otherwise, thinking he would enjoy the chase and challenge of it all.”
“God only knows, bro. I’ll keep working my magic here though, and you keep doing your thing. Let me know if anyone seems suspicious and I’ll dig into their background,” he tells me.
“Will do,” I reply, pulling out onto the street. “Talk to you later.”
>
I hang up before he finishes singing, hearing only one line of *NSYNC’s “Bye, Bye, Bye” before the blissful sound of silence fills my car.
I spend the next several hours making my way to each of Jean LaRue’s hotels around the city, questioning employees on if they’d seen him or Quincy. Everyone’s answers were the same; no one had spotted them in the past few days. They seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, and I was starting to believe they were either not at one of his properties, or they had made it out of state by car. The only thing that made me think they were still around though was the fact he hadn’t used any of his credit cards. Yes, he could easily have a pile of cash lying around to grab before they left, but they hadn’t been spotted on any type of traffic cams or anything. I was still waiting for Seth to find out which car of LaRue’s they took so he could track either the GPS or the license plate number.
Until then, as the sun starts to rise over the horizon, I decide to go get some shuteye with the vixen currently sleeping in my bed.
CHAPTER 5
“What did you do last night, beautiful?” I murmur, as I crawl up Clarice’s relaxed body. She stirred when I had entered our hotel room moments ago, stretching her arms above her head, her tits pressing against the soft fabric of my white tee she must’ve put on before going to sleep.
Eyes still closed, she put her hand over her mouth as she spoke. “I sat at the café across the street and snapped some pretty cool photos while people watching. Come no closer if you want to live, Bri. My morning breath will kill you.”
“I can think of worse ways to die,” I tell her, removing her hand and kissing her deeply.
