by Clare Cole
“I want to taste you,” he said. “Now.”
He flipped me onto my back and watched as I massaged my slick folds through my glistening lace panties. With a grin, he hooked both thumbs below the thin waistband and slid them down my legs, my high heels pointed skywards as he slowly removed the sopping wet underwear. He inhaled their aroma before playfully tossing them behind him and sliding his strong hands down my smooth, sheer stockings. My inner thighs, slick with juices that had trickled down them before my barely-there panties had been removed, were parted at the insistence of his touch.
“You’re soaking,” he smiled.
I intended to tease him mercilessly. “Dripping,” I whispered. “For you.”
He ran a finger down my belly and over my pubic bone, causing me to catch my breath. My legs were fully parted now, stilettos planted in the mattress. “Wider,” he insisted. I complied. “Wider still.”
I gasped as I felt my drenched pussy open completely like a flower in bloom, my folds unsealed and inviting him to explore the sweet passage beyond. He slowly lowered his head, his breath hitting my sex as a prelude to his touch. I cupped my breasts and gently pinched the hard nipples beneath my lace bra, shocked at how sensitive they had become. My fingertips were already too much to take; instead, I peeled back the fabric and exposed them, allowing the air to kiss their hard tips.
With a single stroke, Rick’s tongue slid up my drenched opening before slowly settling on my swollen clit, lingering there and flicking at it like a device of divine torture.
I came immediately.
My first small orgasm of the night - and small is a subjective term, mind you - enveloped my body as Rick tormented me with pleasure. As my body shook, and before I had even opened my eyes, he slipped the full length of his hardness inside me. I was shocked into a scream of utter exaltation as my pussy, tight and unprepared for his beautiful violation, was parted and penetrated by inch after inch of his steel-like cock.
"Oh God…I wasn't…ready…" I said, gasping for air like a drowning woman coming up for breath.
His thrusts were long and considerate, giving me time for my orgasm to subside. He filled me completely, my walls stretched to their limit to accept him yet so welcoming of his shaft moving in and out of me. He angled his hips to hit at the rough patch of flesh inside me with the head of his cock again and again, stroking at me with complete disregard for his own pleasure.
"Take me," I gasped, my back arched and my hard nipples brushing against the rippling muscles of his chest. "Take me in your arms and fuck me like you've never fucked a woman before."
With a sudden urgency and primal instinct, he wrapped arms as strong as oak around my upper body and delivered a penetration so deep that I felt him in my abdomen. I cried out in sheer ecstasy as he practically lifted me from the bed, my arms trapped and pinned to my sides as he owned me and claimed me, once and for all, as his woman. Any attempt to break free of his bearhug-like grip would have been futile, his strong torso trapping me beneath him like a rag doll. My palms rested on his triceps, holding on to him as he moved like a piston inside me, and my flame red hair cascaded down onto the pillow beneath as kisses landed on my neck like teardrops on petals.
"I love you so much, Amy," he whispered.
I felt his cock begin to twitch and pulsate inside me, ready for the release of his come. As if determined to unload his seed as deep inside me as possible, he pushed himself fully within me and began to grind his pubic bone against mine, massaging and teasing my clit with his body. He had me now; already sensitive and vulnerable, this last move sent me completely over the edge and, as his thick, warm cream flowed deep inside me, my entire body tightened like a vice.
I screamed out silently as a devastating orgasm exploded throughout my body, making me quiver and almost causing me to black out once again. My eyes screwed tightly shut, I attempted to tell him in a faltering voice what I felt in that moment.
"I love…you…too…"
My head spun and consciousness briefly seemed to leave me. No drugs were involved this time, no spiked drinks or nefarious methods. Just the pure ecstasy of being wrapped tightly in the arms of the man I loved, being one with him in both body and mind.
Chapter Eight
"It's a good job I hate condoms," I laughed, taking my daily contraceptive pill. "That way we both get to feel everything."
"Well, if I didn’t hate them so much maybe I wouldn’t have a son. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”
I suddenly thought again of Julia and how she looked nothing like Luke. It hadn’t bothered me sufficiently to bring it up - at least not between getting stripped and drugged by Jake and subsequently having sex with Rick. Things had been kind of hectic in the last 24 hours, to say the least.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Rick smiled, kissing me on the shoulder. “You need to dry that gorgeous red hair of yours. I’m taking you out for lunch before we leave LA.”
“Ooh, where?”
“Thai? There’s a great place called Palm’s down on Hollywood Boulevard. I know the owner. He’ll get us in and out discreetly.”
I wondered if that would provide the opportunity for me to bring up Julia. “Sounds great,” I replied, kissing him softly.
I laid back on the bed and wondered if I was just being crazy. Maybe Luke was just one of those kids that looked nothing like his mother. Or maybe...Julia simply wasn’t his mother. As the water started to flow, Rick began singing in the shower.
“No time for crying...A part of me dies each time you leave...Crazy for trying...Maybe I’m just too blind to see...”
I hadn’t heard that song before. “Is that new?”
“What?”
“That song,” I shouted. “Is it a new one?”
“Oh, yeah. I was writing it while you were asleep last night. It’s about you, sort of.”
I smiled to myself. Was I his muse now? “It’s good. I like it.”
“What?”
“I said I liked it!”
“Oh, good,” he spluttered. “It’s a work in progress.”
A phone started ringing and I ran around the room trying to find it, rubbing at my hair with a towel. The ringtone came from the pocket of Rick’s jeans and I pulled it out to see Julia’s name flashing on the display.
“Hello? Julia?”
Screaming.
Guttural, frantic, unexpurgated screaming jolted me out of my relaxed state and caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.
“J-Julia...?”
“He’s GONE,” she screamed, sobbing uncontrollably. “Luke’s gone! He’s been TAKEN! They’ve taken him! They’ve taken my baby!”
The journey to Julia and Michael’s house was a blur, speeding through early morning traffic and up again through the Hollywood hills with hair still wet and barely a word uttered. We ran into the house, police cars everywhere, to find Julia sobbing uncontrollably in Michael’s arms.
“Are you Mr Borrell?”
A tall, stocky man in his mid-forties adjusted his tie and held out his hand for Rick to shake.
“Yes...and this is Amy Reid, my girlfriend.”
“Pleased to meet you both.” His tone was quiet, almost grave. “I’m Detective Martin Farrell with Missing Persons. Do you know anywhere where your son may have run off unexpectedly?”
“No, not at all...”
“Sir, Luke went missing at around 7:30am. He was in the kitchen of the property. Mrs Forster went briefly into the living room to switch on the television, came back and he was gone. The back door was open, though apparently not forced.”
“Was someone watching the house?” I asked.
“It seems that way, Miss. This has all the hallmarks of a pre-planned abduction.”
We were jolted suddenly as Rick’s phone began ringing. He lifted it up for us to see.
NUMBER WITHHELD
“Are you expecting a call from anyone, sir?”
Rick shook his head.
The detec
tive beckoned for other officers to gather around. “Put it on speaker.”
Rick took the call, his hand shaking slightly. “Hello?”
“Mr Borrell, I assume you’re surrounded by members of LAPD’s finest, so I will be understandably brief.” The voice was disguised, clearly passed through a computerised filter that made it seem more robotic and low-pitched than it should have been. “We have your son. He is safe and well and we won’t harm him provided you do exactly as we say. Understand?”
“You fucking sons of bitches. He’s just a kid. Let him go!”
“Drop the heroics, Mr Borrell. I repeat, do you understand?”
Rick looked at me, his face contorted in anger. “Yes.”
“Good. You will receive another call in the next hour. Follow our instructions to the letter if you ever want to see your son alive again.”
The phone went dead and we looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear and horror, as the sound of Julia’s screams pierced the room.
####
Afterword
Thank you for buying this ebook!
Rick and Amy's story will continue very soon in:
MORE THAN A FEELING
Curves for the Rock Star 3
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