Women With Handcuffs
Page 14
When I could focus again, Lily was beside me smiling, kissing me softly and sweetly. At some point, she’d removed the rest of her clothes. “That was stunning,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you how good it makes me feel. Thank you.”
I ran my fingers languidly across her cheek. “You sound like this is over. Far from it, my dear. It’s my turn now.”
“You know you don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, but I want to,” I purred. And I did. More than I’d wanted anything in a long, long time. It was more than sexual need, too. I hungered to feel emotionally connected to someone again. I’d been incredibly lonely since leaving my past behind.
Her wide smile seemed like it might split her face in two. I stood on wobbly legs, and she took my place on the love seat, spreading her legs slightly. I could see the pink lips of her pussy through the damp blonde hair that covered her mound.
I settled to my knees and ran my hands along her firm calves. She had dancer’s legs, long and lithe. Her smooth skin felt like silk against my hands. The scent of her aroused sex was intoxicating and I wanted to dive right in, but I forced myself to slow down. I wanted this to be perfect.
Starting at her ankles, I kissed my way to her knees, switching from leg to leg. Only when I was nibbling at her knee did I coax her legs apart far enough to start kissing my way between her thighs.
The flesh on her inner thighs was incredibly sensitive. Every lap of my tongue made her jump a little; when I took her between my teeth, she moaned. I was so lost in teasing her that I only realized I was at her center when her damp pubic hair brushed my cheek.
I closed my eyes and inhaled her fragrance. It made my mouth water and my heart race. I paused for one last moment, gazing at her beautiful sex, before I took that final step onto the wild side.
I kissed her soaked mound and opened my eyes to watch her while I performed this most intimate act. I wanted to savor the moment, because first times never come again. Her dew tasted like the juice I sometimes sucked off my own fingers during what passed for sex out here alone, but there were subtle differences. She tasted just as delightful as I’d hoped.
Lily locked her eyes on mine, and her face flushed bright red. I slipped my tongue into her depths. She trembled and made the sexiest little gasps. It surprised me that I could bring her so much pleasure, and that made my passion burn hotter.
Her slender fingers slid into my hair, and she ground herself against me. Her legs closed around me and her heels thumped my back, urging me to go faster. I gave her exactly what she wanted.
I’m sure I fumbled around a bit in pleasing her. Eating pussy is a learned skill. I did my best, though, trying to duplicate what I liked and what she had done so well just a few minutes ago. I spread her pussy and licked along her lips, sucking them into my mouth as I went and occasionally nipping at them gently. Her slightly metallic flavor quickly overwhelmed my senses, and I became lost in pleasuring her.
I smiled wickedly, even though she couldn’t see it, and began flicking the tip of my tongue rapidly across her clit while I inserted two fingers and rubbed them across her G-spot.
She threw her head back and moaned. “Oh, god! Yes!”
By the time Lily’s leg muscles clenched tight around my head and she screamed her first release, I had decided she was the best lover I’d ever had.
To my immense satisfaction, I brought her to three powerful orgasms, refusing to stop. Her pussy became my world. By the time I finally let her collapse, my lips were a bit raw and my jaw was a little sore, but I was ecstatic. For the first time in five years, I was at peace. It beat drawing a royal flush on the success meter.
My body felt warm and loose as I pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.”
Her steps were even more unsteady than mine, so I slipped an arm around her waist and helped her to the back of the house. My bedroom never saw guests; books and knickknacks filled every available flat surface other than my bed, which I hadn’t made this morning.
She looked up at me with those captivating blue eyes of hers as she curled onto the soft, green comforter. “Thank you.”
I smiled down at her. “No, thank you. I’ll be right back.”
I staggered back to the living room, locked the door and grabbed the shotgun. Checking the windows seemed to take an eternity.
When I got back to the bedroom, Lily lay sprawled across the covers, just where I’d left her, fast asleep. I leaned the gun against the wall by the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed watching her. The strain and pain were gone, and she looked relaxed.
She was gorgeous.
I grabbed a blanket from the closet and pulled it over both of us as I lay down beside her. I nudged my arm under her head and cradled her head against my breast. Lily barely murmured as she changed position, still deep asleep. This was what I’d needed all these years—someone to take care of, and maybe to love. Maybe it’s what she needed, too. By the time they cornered Latrell, maybe we both would have found a little healing in each other.
UNDERCOVER
Ily Goyanes
The red vacancy sign kept blinking, annoying the hell out of me. I wasn’t sure how this was going to turn out, it being my first time and all. To be honest, I was creeped out by the whole thing, though I’d shoot a hole through my foot before admitting it to the other dicks. A lesbian rookie vice detective going undercover as a hooker…who woulda thunk? I had to admit though; I felt sorrier for Rick. The only other rookie detective in the department was doing his undercover in drag, three blocks away.
My mom had been a cop, too. A detective actually, homicide. Detective Liliana Garcia, the first Hispanic female to make detective in the Miami-Dade Police Department. She was the one who instilled in me the need to go after real criminals, the murderers, the child molesters, the rapists. And the politicians, of course. Mami would tell me how much time the MDPD wasted going after poor schlubs who committed victimless crimes like smoking a joint or giving a $20 blow job, only to have gangbangers roaming the streets, free to rape, steal and kill. But there I was, ready to bust some lonely, sex-deprived john who had to pay someone to keep him company. Who was the schlub now, Mom?
The drizzle was tapering off and I was grateful. I had been standing on the street corner for forty-five minutes in a miniskirt and halter-top, and even my bones were cold. The brass had decided the sting should go down in December, of all months, the only month the temperature in Miami drops below sixty. As I bounced up and down to keep myself warm, I hoped that whomever I ended up arresting wasn’t married with children. If he was, I’d beat myself up over it all night, even with a bottle of scotch for comfort.
A car pulled up to the curb a few feet away from me. It was one of those luxury jobbies, all bright and shiny. I put on my best ‘straight’ pose, the one that didn’t make me look like I’d puke from kissing a guy. The car slowly approached and the tinted window on the passenger side lowered. Well, this is it, kid, make-it-or-break-it time.
I sauntered over, or at least what I thought sauntering might look like, and almost tripped in my heels. The only time I wore such instruments of torture was for weddings or funerals. I tried leaning into the car sexily and almost fell.
There was a woman sitting in the driver’s seat. Oh, boy. She was about ten years older than me, and lord, was she a looker. I thought she might have been lost, until she spoke.
“Are you averse to offering your services to someone of your own sex?” She had long, natural red hair, bright green eyes and tits so big, they almost touched the steering wheel.
“Most definitely not.” Oops. I think I may have answered that out of character.
“I would like to take you to a hotel. For the night, if possible.”
“What did you have in mind?” I tried real hard to get back into cop/hooker mode.
“We’ll play it by ear. I figured we could start with some champagne. The rest will take care of itself. I assure you that I will not hurt you. Unless you want me to.”
I looked into her eyes and remembered that everything we said was being recorded. I didn’t want to bust this lady, unless we were role-playing, but there was no way out of the situation that I could think of. My job was to protect and serve, but I swear, if you asked me who I was protecting and serving at the moment, my mind would have drawn a blank. I had to get her to offer me money for sex in a way that would hold up in court. Usually, the “what did you have in mind” line works for cops, but she easily sidestepped that one. I couldn’t be too blunt either; that would be entrapment.
“Are we just going to drink champagne and play Scrabble then?”
“I do enjoy a good game of Scrabble, but no. I thought you could model some outfits for me. And I would pay you. To model.”
Oh, she was slick all right. I was supposed to turn a john (in this case, a jane) away if I couldn’t get him to solicit me for sex outright. The problem was that this broad had piqued my curiosity. The fact that she was a knockout and my type didn’t help either. All my instincts were telling me to get in her car, so I did. I would tell the captain later that I felt I could get her to proposition me once we were in the hotel, that I had already been standing on the street for an hour, that I was cold and wet, yada, yada, and blah, blah. And yes, Captain, that is the exact moment that my wire stopped working.
She seemed pleased that I got inside the car. I immediately put one hand on her leg, which she quickly removed. “You are to behave until we are safely inside our hotel room.”
I was tempted to place my hand back on her leg, just for kicks, to see if she would get mad, but since I was still wired, I decided instead to take the opportunity to scope her out. It seemed like her stems stretched from the pedals all the way to the sunroof. She was voluptuous, unlike newbie lesbians, who think stick figures are attractive. Unfortunately, that’s all you meet when you go to bars and clubs, which is one of the reasons why I was single. Women like this didn’t frequent my local bar on Ladies’ Night Thursdays.
“What’s your name?” I asked only because I was getting restless. The fact that I had defied orders was starting to hit me, and hard, but if I had resisted her charms, my gut told me I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it.
“Jane.” She smiled, and although I’ve never seen the painting in person, I would say that it was a Mona Lisa smile, all vague and mysterious.
“Well, I’m Trick,” I joked back. She laughed. It was a good laugh, healthy but not too strong, and real, not phony.
All of a sudden I saw the hotel looming large. Holy crap! The Biltmore? It cost a few hundred bottle caps a night just to rent a closet at that hotel! I had always wanted to stay there, but not looking like a hooker for christ’s sake!
She stopped the car on the street before going up the long driveway. “Reach into the backseat; there is a trench coat you can put on over your clothes. It’s been raining, so you won’t look out of place.”
This dame really thought of everything, just like a good domme would. I reached into the backseat and pulled on a trench coat that, if the designer were any indication, would cost me about a month’s salary. Now, I know we had been followed; that was protocol. The other members of the sting were supposed to ensure my safety. The thing is, I knew that they couldn’t get to us once we were in the hotel. A hotel like this wouldn’t voluntarily divulge a guest’s room number, and my fellow officers wouldn’t be able to get a warrant to make the hotel do so. After all, the lady had not committed a crime. At least not yet.
We pulled up to the entrance of the hotel. She told the valet to get her luggage, and he removed two suitcases from her trunk. If the trench coat would have cost me a month’s pay, her luggage surely would have cost me two.
A bellhop loaded Jane’s luggage onto a cart and waited while we checked in. The hotel staff either recognized her or got paid a lot of money to act like it did, because each one of them bent over backward to please her. Then again, she seemed to bring that out in people. I know I was definitely thinking about bending over.
After she checked us in, we got into the elevator with the bellhop. She managed to position me in the rear of the elevator without me even realizing it. As we rode, she bent over slightly, pulled up her dress and adjusted the strap of her garter belt. I didn’t miss that scene and neither did the bellhop. We both kept staring at her the entire elevator ride, and I don’t think either one of us was thinking about baseball.
The elevator stopped finally. I was wet from the rain and from all the images swimming around in my head. The funny thing was that I could also imagine my brothers in arms, trying to get information out of the front-desk staff. If I didn’t have something better to do, I would have loved to watch that exercise in futility.
All three of us walked into the suite. This place was even fancier than I had imagined. It was huge! There was a living room area, a bar, and a balcony with a panoramic view. There were also a couple of rooms set off from the main area. I’m not into interior decorating, so my description of the suite probably wouldn’t help, but a twelfth-grade vocabulary word popped into my mind: opulence. It’s amazing what the old noodle can recall when it’s inspired. The suite had gold and red everywhere; it looked like a palace. I must have been gawking like an idiot, because I heard the door close and turned around to find that I was finally alone with this magnificent creature. Even though I deal with the worst element of society on a daily basis, I felt scared for a moment.
“Excuse me while I go to the bathroom.”
“Young ladies do not excuse themselves of their own accord. They ask for permission.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. May I please be excused? I need to use the bathroom.”
She looked me up and down, taking her sweet time. “In a moment, you may.” She grabbed me by the back of my neck and led me to the suitcases. “Open the one on the right.”
I did as she asked. The suitcase had an assortment of lingerie in different colors and bottles of lotion. She grabbed one of the bottles, opened it, sniffed, then held it under my nose. “Do you like this scent? I think it becomes you.”
The lotion smelled delicious, like a cross between lavender and fresh peaches. “Yes, ma’am.”
She then pulled out a burgundy-colored teddy, held it against me, looked at my face and then down at the teddy. She thrust the teddy and the bottle of lotion into my hands. “Take these into the bathroom with you. Take a bath and put both of them on before you come out.”
I started walking toward a door that I thought would lead to the bathroom.
“Trick.” I heard that pretty laugh again.
“Yes, ma’am?” I answered.
“Take your time. I’m sure you are still wet and uncomfortable from being forced to stand out in the rain. There is no hurry. You are mine all evening, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I appreciated her generosity, but I was in no mood for a leisurely bath. I wanted to kiss her plump wet mouth and hold her large breasts in my hands. I had literally risked my career to be with this amazing woman, and I wasn’t going to waste any time.
As soon as I got into the bathroom, I removed the wire that had been taped to my chest hours ago and drowned it in the sink, making sure it could never be resuscitated. I drew a bath and threw some complimentary bath crystals in it. Why not? I washed myself, making sure to clean all my parts extremely well, rubbed the lotion into my skin after drying myself off and then threw the teddy on. I stared at myself in the mirror. Although I was somewhat of a tomboy, I did clean up well. I had always kept my hair long—it just made life easier—but I was lean, to the point of looking athletic, which gave my appearance a bit of an edge. I don’t know what the teddy was made of, but it felt really smooth on my lotion-soft skin.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Jane was standing on the
balcony in a black corset and black panties with a matching garter belt and stockings. She was sipping a glass of champagne. “Pour yourself a glass and come here.”
I wasn’t a champagne kind of girl, more beer and scotch really, but I did as she asked. Something made me want to obey her. I joined her on the balcony, slightly shy in my teddy now that I had an audience.
She turned to me. “You look radiant.” She motioned her drink toward mine and we clinked glasses.
“Luminous, really. You should step outside your safety zone more often.”
I became even shyer at her description of me. I wasn’t any of those things. I was a 32-year-old female vice cop, but it was sweet of her to say so. “Thank you, ma’am.”
After we finished our champagne she tossed our glasses over the balcony, placed my hands on the railing and stood directly behind me. I looked out at the vast space behind the hotel. I could make out an Olympic-size swimming pool, a golf course and darkness. Then I felt her hands. She had started caressing my shoulders and was languidly trailing her hands across my neck, back, arms and ass. I was on fire for her, and I wondered if she could feel the heat burning inside me.
She moved my hair to the side and started kissing my neck while firmly kneading my ass. I was glad she had placed both my hands on the railing, because without support, I might have made a fool of myself.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Her voice had changed. It was huskier and less authoritative, as if she had been drinking scotch.
“Yes. Thank you.” It was an effort to get the words out. She reached around and cupped my two breasts. I could feel her palms and fingers through the thin fabric of the teddy, and I was sure she could feel my nipples harden at her touch.