The Panty Whisperer: The Complete Series

by Sloane Howell

  I shake my head at him, a slight smile showing through my serious demeanor.

  Without warning his hands wedge between my thighs and shoves them apart. I try to fight back against his hands just enough to keep him frustrated, but my head flies back once more, my fingers clawing at the mattress.

  "Don't act like I don't know what you want, Quinn." He spreads me farther, his fingers digging into my legs, destined to leave bruises.

  "What's that?" My voice is a half moan, half plea.

  His hands slide to the back of my thighs and he pushes my knees up next to my head, my ass and pussy inches from his face. He flattens his tongue on my pussy and licks me slow over my panties, from asshole to clit, the tip of his tongue grazing me as he finishes. His eyes are locked onto mine the entire time, recording every reaction in his mind. My thighs quiver in his grip, and a shudder rips through my body.

  "For me to rip these panties off and shove my cock where my tongue was." He drops my legs and rips my underwear in half.

  I moan loud enough for the entire floor to hear. "God, you and your filthy mouth."

  He leans down and cages my throat with his hand, staring into my eyes and starts to work the head of his cock back and forth on my clit, his face inches from mine. "It's not half as filthy as the shit I'm about to do to you."

  His words send a jolt of electricity through me that channels into my clit, and his hard cock rubbing across it has me on the brink.

  "You're about to come, aren't you?" He smiles and moves his cock away from me.

  I want it back. I need it touching me. My hands grip his forearm as he applies pressure to my neck. My nails claw into his skin.

  "No, let's try this first. I don't know if you can handle me fucking you just yet." He slaps his hand against my wet pussy and rubs up and down on it, his gaze never leaving me. "Let's see how long this takes."

  He takes two fingers to the hilt and swirls my clit with his thumb. My hips jolt from the bed up toward his hand, and he takes his fingers deeper into me, gripping up to find my spot as I start to tremble.

  I fight the waves of pleasure that are quickly becoming unable to contain as he leans into my ear. "Don't fight it. Come on my fucking fingers like a good little slut." His thumb speeds up on my clit. My breathing follows suit, especially at his words.

  I try to say something, but nothing comes out. My thoughts are muddled and I'm dizzy with euphoria, everything in me trying not to focus on every nerve in every limb of my body being stimulated to alarming levels. My hips betray my mind and start bucking against his hand. I shake my head against his grip.

  He leans up to look at me and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. "You asked for it."

  He dives to my neck and bites down. His fingers drilling into me at the same time, and his palm slaps against my clit. The wet suctioning sound echoes through the room and my arm wraps around his head, my fingers digging into his scalp.

  "Fuck!"

  His grip on my throat catches my scream and muffles it. His teeth dig harder into my shoulder and his hand slides from my neck and covers my mouth, forcing my head down to the bed as my hips start to convulse on his hand. He growls into my neck, and his fingers speed up as the onslaught of nerve firings rip through my body and swirl like a drain into my pussy. I scream into his hand and my vision blurs, my body a complete slave to his touch.

  When my hips finally lower to the bed, he pulls his fingers from me and leans up, removing his hand from my mouth as my breaths come in huge waves. "Goddamn your fingers and your filthy fucking mouth." I struggle to catch my breath.

  He leans up, and rubs his fingers—glistening with my wetness—up and down the length of his cock. "I'm not done yet."

  He wasn't this rough before, and it's doing things to my body that my brain doesn't quite yet understand.

  Before I can catch my breath, he reaches down and flips me to my stomach. I squeal.

  I can feel his eyes on me as I'm bent over the bed. My toes find the soft carpet as I grip the bed sheets, wondering what he's about to do to me.

  I feel his hands on my ass, kneading my soft flesh. "I've missed this view."

  I look straight ahead at the wall, not wanting to see what he's doing, only feel it. I try to push my ass back against his hands and he shoves me harder onto the bed.

  "Don't fucking move."

  I do it again.

  Crack. The stinging of his palm on my ass sends a new current of excitement ripping through me. "Fuck."

  Before I can react his face buries into my ass, his tongue on my pussy, licking around my entrance. I plant my face in the sheets and moan. How he's turned me into a screamer—knows exactly what to say and do—I will never fully understand. He spreads my ass apart, licking every inch of me, then slides his tongue across the tight ridges of my asshole. I'm not certain how much longer it will be until my legs give out.

  Right when I'm about to come all over his face, both of his hands are on my hips, forcing me down harder onto the bed. Once more, I fight the urge to stare back at him, to see what he's doing. I want to feel it.

  One of his hands slides to my shoulder, and then I feel his breath on my neck, then in my ear. "I'm not going to be gentle. And you're going to come when you're told." I feel the head of his cock teasing around my pussy. "Got it?"

  I nod and try to push back into him. My body needs his cock inside of me.

  He smacks my ass again, harder this time, and he eases inside just enough to tease. "When I fucking say so." He swipes my hair from my neck and licks from my collar bone to my ear lobe, exhaling warm breath across my neck. My skin pebbles at the rush of heat.

  I try to hold still, but I'm losing control quickly.

  "Tell me what you want, Quinn." He eases inside of me a little farther. My legs quake and my eyes close.

  "You know what I want, Joel."

  He bears down on the side of my neck at the sound of my words. "Tell me." His cock teases me, barely moving in and out.

  "Fuck me." My voice is a whisper.

  "I can't hear you." I feel his free hand run down my curves and come to rest on the side of my ass.

  His cock continues to tease in and out of me, and I'm about to lose it if he doesn't fuck me soon. "Fuck me, Joel."

  I don't have time to finish my sentence, and he's balls-deep inside of me. "Oh my god—"

  He fists my hair and yanks my head back so that I can see his face as he drills into me. "Is this what you wanted? To get fucked like a naughty little whore?"

  I start to nod when I feel his hand connect with my ass, and slide up to one of my breasts. He squeezes my nipple between his fingers, hard, as I hear his thighs slap into my ass with each thrust. I start to close my eyes, to focus everything on how he feels inside of me.

  "Open your eyes, and look at me when I fuck you." His voice is a growl as his hand tightens in my hair.

  "F-f-fuck, I'm gonna come." His cock pounding into me turns my voice into high pitched, vibrating squeals. I stare up into his green eyes, on the brink of another release.

  One of his hands is still in my hair, and the other moves up to my throat as he holds my head steady, facing him. "You're going to come on my dick when I blow inside of you."

  His hips speed up, and I try to hold back all of the energy collecting deep inside of me. I nod. Joel starts fucking me so hard I rely on his hands to keep my head from dropping to the bed. His fingers tense and his muscles constrict.

  Smacking sounds from him ramming my wet pussy echo through the room, and I don't know how much longer I can take it.

  "Okay." He nods. "Come on my fucking dick. Now."

  I give in and pleasure courses through my veins like a river of heat. My pussy clamps around his cock and my legs stiffen. Right when my orgasm crests, he grunts, and I feel his cock kick inside of me as he comes, feeding my own pleasure another few moments. He lets go of my hair and neck, and my head falls to the bed. His fingers dig into my hips as he groans one last time and pushes
as far inside of me as humanly possible.

  I pant against the sheets as he collapses onto my back and drops light kisses down my neck and shoulder.

  His voice is a whisper. "I love you."

  QUINN

  I WAKE UP thirsty, nuzzled into Joel's shoulder, and something about it just feels right. What time is it? Rolling over, I snag my phone off of the night stand. My muscles ache in the best possible way. Last night was quite a "workout", hot sex, dinner, more hot sex, dessert which was basically eaten off of each other, and then more hot sex.

  Comfort fills me, and it's like I'm floating around, somehow lighter. I slide out of bed with the phone in my hand and start walking to the hotel mini fridge. Fuck. The pain from all the rough sex reminds me of all the pleasure and I grin.

  Finally, I make it to the fridge and pull out a bottled water and start guzzling. My mouth is dry and the cold water is like heaven as it goes down. I finish it off and set the bottle down, then rub my eyes trying to make out the phone screen. It's three in the morning. I head back over to the bed, wincing a little less as my body adjusts. When I start to put the phone back on the night stand, a message pops up. It's a pair of tan legs in black lacy stockings, and some black heels. What the hell? Who the fuck is Bridget and why is she sending me half naked pictures?

  Bridget: can't sleep. thinking about our last encounter. call me. xoxo

  Reality kicks in. I drop the phone on the ground and freeze in my tracks. Joel's phone.

  I turn to him while he sleeps, every woman's fantasy naked in my hotel room bed. I feel stinging in my eyes, and they start to mist. I wipe them before they can be tears, because I will not cry over this son of a bitch again. Won't happen.

  Part of me wants to smother this asshole with his pillow so he can never hurt me again. How can this beautiful prick who fucked my brains out all night long tell me he loves me?

  My mind is racing, trying to figure out what my next move will be. I bend down and pick up his phone, set it back where it was, gather my things as quickly as possible, and get the fuck out of there.

  JOEL

  BRIGHT SUNLIGHT SHOOTING through the window hits me in the face right when I open my eyes. Something is off. I turn my head to stare at Quinn, and the bed is empty. The sheets are drawn down, but I don't see her anywhere.

  Maybe she went out for coffee or had a meeting.

  I tell myself it's normal, but something is wrong. Something has always been wrong since I fell for her.

  I reach for my phone on the night stand and pick it up. There's a new text so I check it. Bridget. Fucking great. I click on the message and close it just as fast. "Chick is fucking crazy."

  I need to find a way to get rid of her, but that can come later. Focusing on Quinn is the only thing that matters right now. I get up and walk around the room and notice shit is missing. Quinn's shit. Fuck me.

  I try to call her. Nothing. Everything is gone.

  Call Tommy.

  After dialing his number he picks up on the second ring. "Herbert, my bitch! You finally come up from the sea of pussy to take a breath?"

  There's water and a loud engine in the background. Tommy sounds like he's getting smacked in the face with hurricane winds.

  "Where the fuck are you?" My voice is loud and insistent.

  "Jesus Christ. I'm on my way to Alcatraz. If you must know."

  Fuck me. He's always wanted to go there. I should've known.

  "Sorry for sounding like a prick." I sit down on the bed and scrub my free hand over my face and into my hair. Then I pull. Hard. "I've got a problem."

  "Oh you're not doing this to me right now, you dick goblin. What did you do?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "How do you always fuck up and never know what the problem is? It's bad enough Episode 7 is going to suck Mother Teresa's taint. Now I'm going to miss out on Alcatraz? I planned on doing Connery's voice the whole day while you got your fuck on." He must cover up the phone because it sounds like he's farther away. "What? Watch my language? You gonna kick me out? We are in the motherfucking ocean. Go buy yourself a spray tan and a sense of humor, you pasty old fuck. I've got real problems here."

  "Tommy. Focus." I chuckle a little and stand.

  "Sorry about that. Someone always gets offended about crude language. Oversensitive pricks."

  "Quinn is gone." I sigh. The words pummel my chest.

  "What do you mean she's gone?"

  "I mean she isn't here."

  There's rustling and then the line clears. "Like she just went out for a bit? Or like gone, as in, never coming back, gone?"

  I open a few empty drawers, praying her clothes are in them. They're not. "The second one. None of her shit is here."

  He lets out a long, exasperated sigh. "Oh boy."

  I walk over to the window and stare out at downtown San Francisco and the expanse of water behind it. "What are we going to do?"

  "Well, she probably went home. Your bitch ass is going to go book us some flights. I'm going to find fucking Carmen Sandiego."

  "I just—"

  "Stop your goddamn thinking and let me do that. Get your shit together and get us a flight. I'll find out where she is for certain in the meantime. You owe me a blow jibber and a box of Krispy Kremes for this. I'm tired of being the goddamn marriage counselor in this motherfucker."

  "Okay."

  There is a long pause. I hear him breathing.

  "Why aren't you getting us a flight, Herbert?"

  "I don't know. I was waiting for you to hang up."

  "I don't hang up! I wait until the other person does! Everyone knows that. Now hang up, bitch. We are on a schedule."

  It gets a chuckle out of me. "Fine!"

  I hang up the phone and saunter over to the bed. Opening my browser I start searching for flights and they're all full. "Fuck." I call and try to get us on any combination of flights possible. They're all booked for the holidays.

  This cannot be happening.

  My phone goes off, and it's the imperial death march. Tommy's picture flashes across the screen and he's holding Jar Jar Binks severed head by the ears, a decapitated body is on the ground below.

  "What's up?"

  "She's on her way home. You get us a flight?"

  Why is she on her way home? What in the fuck could I have possibly done?

  "No, they're all booked for the holidays." I wait for it.

  "One thing, Sir. You were in charge of one thing!" There is a pause. "Let me make a call. Pack your shit."

  About fifteen minutes go by, and I finally end my little pity party on the bed. I walk around the room, shoveling clothes and anything else of mine into my suitcases. It's almost noon and the grumbling in my stomach reminds me I haven't eaten anything.

  Every time I think, breathe, take a step—it's like a dagger, ripping up through my guts. My entire life, the one I thought I was happy in, and had all figured out, is flipped upside down and full of regret. I can't figure out how it happened.

  Tommy is an awesome wing man, but the person I really need right now, more than anything, is Mom.

  It's still like I'm in a torture rack when I think about her, but the vise around my heart eases a little each day. I need her advice, her experience. A simple hug from her always solved any problem I had before, and now I'm in a tailspin that can't right itself no matter how hard I try.

  I wheel my bags over and set them by the door. The silent, empty room does nothing to help keep my mind from racing. I comb through every detail, trying to figure out what I missed. At the same time, I hold my phone out, waiting for it to light up, vibrate—do anything.

  Finally, Tommy calls and I answer.

  "Got your shit packed?" He speaks before I can say anything.

  "Yeah, what's up?" The phone vibrates against my ear from my hand constantly shaking.

  "I rented us a car. Road trip mother bitch. I'm coming to get you."

  "Dude, it's like a five-hour drive." My heart thumps. I guess anything is better tha
n sitting around doing nothing. I'm sold on the idea by the time he responds.

  "Well, maybe if you had your life together, we wouldn't need to be doing this goddamn shit."

  "No, it's fine. I'm sold. Just hurry." Adrenaline is pumping through my veins now, and I'm pacing around the room.

  "Oh, fuck you, mister first class. You ain't riding in this car now."

  "I said it was fine, dickhead. Just come get me." My voice is desperate.

  "Oh, look at me, I'm Herbert and I don't ride in cars like peasants do. Maybe you can put on a toga and I'll feed you some grapes, Caesar." His deadpan delivery has me wanting to laugh and strangle him simultaneously.

  "Stop fucking around. I'm serious. Come get me."

  "I've been in the lobby for five minutes, pussy. I'm not waiting much—"

  I hang up and grab the bags before he can finish his sentence. When I get to the elevators, I punch the button with my finger like a woodpecker trying to cut down a redwood. The ride down is excruciating, and I may have called the elevator a few choice words like "tortoise cunt" and "fuck snail."

  When the doors open, Tommy is standing in the lobby pointing at his watch. "Whenever you're ready, pussy."

  I run past him with the bags and he follows out to the car. "Which one is it?"

  "The white one."

  I look around and the only white car I see is a hatchback that looks like it's built for circus clowns. My bags fall to the ground, and I flip around to see Tommy glaring.

  "Say something about the car, Herbert. I dare you to say one goddamn thing, you pompous fuck." His nostrils are flaring and his cheeks are puffed out. It's an act, and we both know it. I play along.

  "You got that shit on purpose." I grind my teeth for some effect.

  "So what if I did." He holds out a hand and starts counting off all the great things about the car on each finger. "Great fuel economy, great price, and umm—"

  "I don't care. Let's just go." I grab my shit and run over to the car, barely missing one of the valet drivers. "Give me the keys."

  "No way. This isn't The Italian Job. You're not driving this bitch through all these hilly streets, Steve McQueen." He twirls the keys around his index finger and laughs as he walks over to the driver's side.