Sitting on one of the chairs positioned in the corner of our bedroom, Faye was walking out of the bathroom dressed in only a robe when I tugged her down onto my lap. She let out an adorable little screech, but quickly made herself comfortable, positioning her pussy over the already hardening length of my cock.
When I was sure she had her balance, I leaned back into my seat and hitched my knees up further so that Faye’s weight was now entirely centered over my crotch. She squirmed at the feel of my dick resting in the crevice of her ass, making me growl,
“You’re playing with fire if you keep moving like that, baby. Because it’s taking every ounce of my self-restraint not to rip open that robe you’re wearing pull my cock out, and watch you fuck yourself with it.”
Faye moans and continues to move restlessly on top of me, but now she’s clenching her thighs together, seeking some relief from the ache I know is building in her core. Faye is totally down with me fucking her wherever, whenever, and however I want, including right here and right now. And I will. But first, I want to build the anticipation a little.
Faye, however, has other plans. Reaching behind her back, Faye’s hand travels down between my legs and cups my balls, gently rolling them in her small palm. And because I’m a nice guy, and I like to give as well as take, I decide to do some exploring of my own.
Untying her robe, I push it off her shoulders and lick my lips when her firm, full tits are exposed to my gaze. Faye shrugs the material off, letting it pool on the floor by our feet before using her free hand to lift one of her breasts up to my mouth like an offering. An offer I readily accept.
I take the tight bud of her nipple between my lips, allowing my teeth to graze it gently, then suck it deep into my mouth earning a strangled moan from Faye. Languidly, I lavish attention on one tit and then the other, taking as much of her in my mouth as I can. Fuck but I love my woman’s tits.
More than a handful, but not so big that they look ridiculous on her small frame, Faye’s tits are topped with blush-colored nipples that taste just as good as they look. Not to mention, they’re sensitive as hell too. But there’s only so long I can dine on the appetizer when the main course is beckoning me.
My cock, the greedy little bastard he is, wants inside Faye’s pussy sooner rather than later, and I can’t blame him. Her warm, wet cunt feels amazing wrapped around me, and if I could, I’d stay buried inside her for days. The only time I’d surface would be for food and water when I’ve run out of energy and need to rehydrate myself before fucking her again.
Moving things along because I’m so close to blowing my load before I even get inside her, I run my fingers over the swell of her tits and down her toned belly. My fingertips trace the soft skin at the crease of Faye’s inner thigh and her pussy before making their way to the top of her mound.
Using my thumb, I pull the hood covering Faye’s clit back. The distended nub is the prettiest shade of pink, and it’s right there, just begging for me to play with it. A ragged whimper is torn from Faye’s throat when I pinch her clit between my thumb and forefinger. The sharp sting of pain is only momentary, though. And as it ebbs away, I pinch again, harder this time. I want her clit tender, oversensitive even, so that when I slam my thick cock inside her, Faye comes immediately
After the fourth assault on Faye’s clit, I rumble,
“You need to pick one, and you need to do it fast. Do you want me to finger fuck you, or do you want my big dick inside your tight, little pussy? Two seconds, Faye, otherwise I’ll choose for you,” I warn.
Faye doesn’t answer me, at first, at least not verbally. Instead, she spreads her legs open as far as she can, considering she’s straddling my thighs, and exposes her dripping wet cunt to me before saying,
“I want you to fuck me, honey. And I want you to do it hard. The harder, the better actually. I need to still feel you inside of me when I watch you play tonight.”
Fuck, yes! Her wish is my pleasure.
Over the last month, Faye has come into her own when it comes to sex. Not just the act itself, but what she likes, how hard and fast she likes it, and the amount of pain she can tolerate when my darker base urges take over.
I’m not a sadist, I don’t get turned on by causing Faye any measure of genuine pain that lasts longer than the length of her orgasm. Nor am I a Dom in the traditional sense of the word. Sure, I like control, and I love it when Faye submits herself entirely into my care, but I don’t need it to get off. In fact, sometimes it’s a nice change of pace when Faye gets it in her head to take over and use me as her fuck toy.
In all the fantasizing I did about Faye, it didn’t occur to me that we might not be compatible in bed. So to say I’m fucking elated that the things that turn us on, our insatiable sex drives, and willingness to experiment is a perfect match would be a massive fucking understatement.
It didn’t take much to coax Faye into sharing her deepest, dirtiest secrets; a bottle of Jack and threatening to withhold her orgasm until she spilled worked like a dream.
For the most part, I wasn’t shocked by any of Faye’s revelations. As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to her or me, nothing is off limits. Especially not Faye’s curiosity over me coming all over her tits as I fucked her with my fingers and plugged her ass. That I’d do any day of the week and twice on Sunday’s if she wanted me to.
So far, I’ve used vibrators, dildos, anal beads, and nipple clamps on her, all with varying degrees of success. To date, Faye hasn’t shown even the slightest hint of hesitation in trying anything, and everything I’ve suggested; a particular favorite of Faye’s being when I have her on all fours; face down, ass up tie her hands to the headboard and eat her out from behind.
Out of everything Faye shared, she saved the best for last. Apparently, she was desperate to learn how to deep throat my cock. And when I say she wanted to learn, it wasn’t out of curiosity or needing to please me. It was out-and-out hunger that drove her to suck my cock like a pro.
But like any good relationship, sexual experimentation required communication. Because we’d been friends before we were lovers, Faye and I had that aspect of togetherness down pat. I talked, Faye listened, and the same was true in reverse. We trusted each other with everything already, so to us, our bodies were merely an extension of that.
To prove she trusted me in every way – regardless of the fact I assured her I didn’t need her to prove shit – Faye let me direct her to self-induced orgasm. She lubed her ass and plugged it, just like I’d taught her, easing it in a little at a time. Once the five-inch plug was seated deep inside her ass, Faye spread open the lips of her pussy, letting me see how wet she was before finger fucking herself until she teetered on the edge of climax.
It might be considered cruel and unusual punishment, but I had her pull those fingers, slick and coated with her cream before she could come and slide them into my mouth so I could taste her. The vision of Faye pleasuring herself was too much for me to just sit back and be content with watching. But the truth is, I wanted to come with her taste in my mouth and her hand wrapped around my cock. Which, in the end, is exactly how Faye finished me off.
We wouldn’t be finishing that way this time, though. No, this time, I wanted to be buried balls deep inside her cunt when I came.
Taking hold of the waistband of my sweat pants, I manage to maneuver them over my hips just enough to free my cock. With my hand wrapped around the base, guiding the head of my shaft to her slit, Faye moans and writhes on my lap as I bump against her clit.
Slapping her ass, hard, I demand,
“Stay. Fucking. Still. Don’t move a muscle unless the only thing you want to feel is my hand on your bare ass.”
With my dick nestled in between her folds, my hands clamp down on her hips, lifting her up so that I can control how much of my cock slips inside her. Fuck me, she’s wet. Soaking actually. Unable to stop myself, I slide my finger into her alongside my dick, making sure to get it nice and wet, then bring it to my mouth and suck it clean
. The taste of Faye almost makes me wish I’d gotten her off with my mouth first. Sweet, musky, and mine; that’s how to best describe it.
Done with playing, my fingers digging into her hipbones, I slam my cock into her cunt so that I’m buried to the hilt in one thrust. Faye’s back arches, her eyes go wide, and her breath catches in her throat at the sudden intrusion, but she doesn’t complain. In fact, Faye rotates her hips causing my cock to slide inside of her that last quarter of an inch until the tip is touching her womb.
“Dante,” Faye whimpers, letting me know she’s close.
“You’ll wait,” I grunt, pulling out and ramming back into her ruthlessly. “You’ll fucking wait until I say you can come. Now, put your hand between your legs. Use those beautiful fingers of yours to play with your clit until I tell you to stop.”
Reaching down to where we’re connected, brushing them down the length of my dick on an outward stroke, Faye does as she’s told. Working her clit in tight, small circles her pussy walls spasm and she begins to squeeze my cock like her life depends on it.
“I’m close. Oh god, honey. I’m so fucking close.”
Crushing my mouth to hers, my lips swallow her pleas and the sounds of her impending orgasm. Our tongues tangle and I can feel the come boiling in my balls, just waiting for the final thrust that will relieve the aching fullness I’ve been suffering with.
With such vivid memories playing on the highlights reel in my head, I’m not paying attention when Dean walks into the room the Staples Center holds their meet and greets, but I sure as hell am when he asks,
“Anyone seen or heard from, Faye? She was supposed to get back to me with an answer to my problem over an hour ago.”
“Did you ask, Drake? He was on ‘Faye Watch’ tonight,” Cole mutters around a bite of his turkey and swiss sub.
“Yeah, saw him raiding the vending machine and he said he handed off to, Carter around the same time she was talking to me.”
“Fuck,” Tate growls. My sentiments exactly.
“Call, Ryker and then, Drake. Tell them they need to get all hands on deck and to start searching every square fucking inch of this place until they find her,” I order already heading for the door. “I’ll catch up with you after I go back to the bus and see if she’s there.”
*****
The bus was a bust; Faye wasn’t there. All of her shit was exactly where she left it before we checked into the hotel the night before, so I knew she hadn’t been back since.
I just hung up with Dylan after getting an update as to where that at with the search when my cell pinged, letting me know I’d received a text. Tapping on the message icon, I brought it up and a long string of curses my mom would kick my ass for erupted at what I read.
*Unknown number* - if you want to see your girl again, meet me @ the corner of 6th and Grand @ 8.
I hit dial on Ryker’s number without giving it a seconds thought. When he answered, I bit out,
“Get hold of a car and pick me up outside the bus in five. I’ll fill you in on the way, but I think I got a lock on where Faye is.”
Disconnecting, I bring up Safari and type the address into the search bar. Fucking great. The location is a public park fifteen to twenty minutes south of the city. Being the middle of summer there’s still a chance people will be out and about, so I guess I won’t be killing the asshole after all. I'll have to settle for beating the absolute shit out of him until he’s left breathing through a straw for the rest of his life.
The screech of tires means Ryker managed to hook us up with a vehicle, so grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, I exit the bus taking the steps three at a time.
When we’ve pulled onto the interstate, Ryker barks,
“Give me what you’ve got.” Relaying the contents of the text and the rendezvous point, he glares out the windscreen without saying a word.
“What’s the plan here, Ryker?” I demand when I’ve had about enough of his silent stoicism.
“We’ll show up and get the lay of the land, assess it for vantage points we can utilize to extract Faye if the opportunity presents itself, and wait,” he grunts, hooking the wheel hard to the right to take the offramp at speed.
Wait? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so. The moment I lay eyes on Faye, I’m going to do whatever it takes to have her in my arms again. If that means I have to sacrifice my life for hers, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. But let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that because I promised Faye forever, and that’s one promise I intend to keep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
~ Faye ~
“Just shut the fuck up, and let me think for a minute,” Bruce snarls from the driver’s seat.
We’ve been sitting in the car since he sent a text to Dante telling him where to meet us. What I’ve gathered from his nonsensical ramblings, Bruce intends to trade me for Dante in an effort to gain access to Dante’s bank account.
Apparently, good old Bruce has gotten himself into a significant amount of debt after placing a few poorly researched bets at the local track. When he couldn’t come up with the money, Bruce asked his cousin for money under the misguided assumption that Scott, would hand it over and not expect to be repaid. He was family after all.
Wrong!
Scott Young is the second in charge of a black market operation that deals heroin to middle schoolers and sells guns to dangerous criminals. There was no way this guy wouldn’t want to get paid back in full, even I know that, and I’ve lived on the straight and narrow my whole life.
“Can you, at least, undo the cuffs, please? They are digging into my wrists,” I whimper pitifully for effect.
That’s an out and out lie. If I had a few minutes alone, I’d be able to free myself with relatively quickly, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Bruce is bound and determined to blackmail Dante, and I’m the only leverage he’s got.
Which is why I haven’t shared with him that Dante’s credit cards, debit card, and checkbook are in my purse. It would be a damn shame if this ridiculous attempt at kidnapping ended before I got to see Bruce have his ass kicked before being thrown into the back of a police car.
Shrugging, the bumbling idiot in question says,
“Sure. It’s not like there’s anywhere for you to hide if you did try to escape anyway.”
Unsnapping the handcuffs, Bruce drops them into the center console. Big mistake. Everyone who owns a TV and was born in the last century knows who my dad is. You don’t even have to be a boxing fan to remember that he was ranked number one in the world three years running. His face was plastered on billboards and magazine covers, non-stop for months when he won his last belt and announced his retirement.
So it stands to reason, that the heavyweight champion of the world would teach his kids a thing or two about self-defense. I may not have returned to the gym my dad owned after I was attacked and abhor violence of any kind, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the basics.
When you’ve been a victim of a violent crime, you might question your instincts directly afterward, but given time, you will come to realize they are your biggest and most powerful asset. I honed mine, perfected the art of reading people's body language. A subtle shift in their posture to the right will tell one story, but a slight lean to the left can indicate something else entirely.
Take now for example; a passerby would notice a man and a woman sitting in a car on the side of the road, their bodies leaning away from each other, and automatically assume the couple are in the middle of a domestic dispute. However, if you look closer, you’ll spot the tick underneath Bruce’s left eye, the way his jaw is clenched where it hinges, and the constant opening and closing of his fists. All of that put together speaks of blatant hostility and a healthy dose of anxiety mixed in for good measure.
An advantage is what I need. A fraction of a second when Bruce is distracted enough not to see my hand inching toward the center console. He isn’t carrying a weapon, or not one that I’ve noticed, so I don’t fear being s
eriously injured. Which, as you know, is a reasonable fear to have in my current condition.
Barking followed by the dogs’ owner yelling for it to heel is just the opening I was waiting for. My hand darts out to grab the handcuffs as I use my other hand to pull back on Bruce’s middle finger, bending it at an unnatural right angle.
“Fuck! Shit, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bruce shouts, drawing the attention of the dog owner.
Too little too late, I muse to myself when the man who is yet to corral his dog knocks on the passenger’s side window.
“Let me take care of our innocent bystander, and I’ll be right with you,” I chirp, alighting from the car.
“Hi,” I smile at the man.
Frowning at me he asks,
“Are you all right? I heard yelling.”
“Of course,” I nod trying to reassure him as quickly as possible so that he’ll go the hell away.
Now, I get that you probably think I’ve lost my mind. I assure you, I haven’t. My first port of call should have been to find my cell, calling the police and Dante, in that order. However, it’s completely unnecessary.
Mine: Forever After (Forever After Novella Series Book 1) Page 9
