by Nova Rain
“Oh, you kinky bastard,” I moan, pulling him out, my hand running up and down his shaft. Just when I’m about to suck him back in, he begins to lap at my juices, sending waves of sheer lust shooting down my spine. I throw my head back, gripping him tighter in my palm, the desire to satisfy him growing within me. I tilt my head down once more, the slap on my ass cheek causing my pussy to clench. I take his cock back into my mouth, the head hitting the roof while Joe slides his tongue up my slit.
“That’s my girl, suck it good,” He groans, squeezing my ass cheeks together. His leg muscles flex, his balls tightening while the taste of his pre-cum intensifies. Insane pleasure builds up within me as he pushes his tongue into me. Soft wetness is filling me up, his length muffling my moans. Nobody has ever done this with me up until now; he’s the first. The sweet sensation that spreads throughout my body is so delicious that I’m wondering why he had yet to attempt this. Still, I’m not complaining, and I’m sure that Joe has more tricks up his sleeve. A mix of saliva and his juices is flowing down his rock-hard shaft; his cock is twitching in my mouth. I glide my tongue over the head, eager to edge him further, to make him explode. I sense his lower lip on my slit as he pushes his own tongue in and out of me.
“Michelle…” he growls my name, the clear warning in his voice telling me how close he is. I jerk him hard, his balls getting warmer and tighter by the second. I suck on the head alone, knowing how sensitive he is. Squirming underneath me, he stills and tosses his head back. I yank his big, hard cock out of my mouth, his juices shooting up into the air, his guttural groans filling my heart with contentment. Opening my eyes, I watch two streams of semen staining the sheets, just next to his right foot. I expect him to stop his worship for a minute or two to catch his breath. In true Joe fashion though, he picks up right where he left off. This time, he slips his middle finger into my soaking wet pussy, using his tongue to lick my juices off my thighs.
“Oh, my God!” I moan, straightening myself up, my hands running up his groin. As I do so however, I notice something that had skipped my attention. There is a mirror across from his bed. Once, my friend Ava had watched herself having sex, and she brought it up almost every day for weeks. She had described it as a fantastic experience, and frankly, I was jealous of her. Now that I have the chance, I won’t let it go to waste. I bounce on his finger, tipping my head back, my hands diving into my hair. I take it all the way down to his knuckle, the fiery kisses he plants over my ass cheeks bringing me closer to the moment I had been waiting for all night long.
“Awww, fuck, yeah!” I scream, squeezing my eyes shut as my whole body goes reeling into orgasmic bliss. I squirm over him, ragged moans fly out of my mouth; my legs and waist still shake with the force of my climax. I open my eyes to slits, lying down on top of him, droplets of sweat streaming down my chest. Finding myself in his arms, I look up at him, a broad smile spreading across my face.
“You…” I gasp. “I don’t even know what to say anymore.”
“It’s not the time to talk yet,” he utters, his sexy, deep voice filling my ears. Flexing his arm muscles around me, he leans forward. Thrilled by what he seems to have in mind, I bend over and crawl down to the foot of the bed. I place my hands on the low, iron railing and move my legs apart. As I do so, I realize that I’ve made a mistake. Joe’s climax was only two or three minutes ago. He’s not ready for me yet, or at least that’s what I think. Still, the moment he sits up and positions himself behind me, I’m in for a pleasant surprise. His cock is rock-hard in his grasp, my lover’s gaze settled on my ass. I hiss, feeling the head probing at my entrance.
“Awwwww, yeah,” I groan, his length pushing through my wet folds. I look at us in the mirror, his inches filling up my pussy. Joe notices what I’m doing, and his response to it is a wicked smile. He slides all the way into me, the view of his ripped stomach sending waves of delight through my system. I push back onto his cock once and after a short withdrawal, I do it again, keeping almost all of him inside of me.
“So hungry…” he grunts, grasping my hips, “And all mine.”
“Yeah, baby,” I moan, holding on to the rail tighter. “I’m all yours. Pound me.”
My encouragement works in almost no time at all. A deep, hard thrust rocks my body forward. A second one causes me to wonder if I can actually watch him taking me from behind. With his massive tool stretching me out like that, I can’t focus on much else, other than sensation; Sweet, wonderful sensation. Joe rocks into me, his long, deep strokes satisfying my lust. I catch glimpses of the base of his shaft, every time he withdraws. My nails rake along the cold metal, my inner walls clenching around him as I release short breath after short breath. His hands are roaming over my ass, squeezing, grabbing and slapping, everything showing me how much he loves keeping me submissive and all to himself. And I love this possessiveness; this greed to claim me as his own; this hunger to eat me up and fuck me with more and more passion. He’s burying his juicy cock inside of me, continuing his unrelenting assault on my body, his loud, lustful groans synchronized with mine. Sticky pre-cum is bathing the walls of my pussy, making them clench and unclench on his throbbing shaft. Joe’s balls are smashing up against my swollen clit, his quickening thrusts causing my ass cheeks to wobble wildly. He stops his hands over my hips while I struggle to watch him pound me from behind. The image in the mirror may be blurry, but the feeling is as clear as it can get. Nine, stiff inches are plowing in and out of me, my breasts bouncing back and forth with each thrust.
“I’m cumming!” I cry out, my mouth staying open, my moans audible over his as the second orgasm overwhelms my body and senses alike. In an instant, my juices are flowing freely out of me, spreading across his stiff tool while I glide against it, reveling in the delicious friction. As he pulls out, he doesn’t even have the time to jerk himself off to fulfillment. His seed spurts out of his throbbing cock, numerous, hot drops landing on my ass and my calves. Joe leans forward and snakes his arms around my still quivering waist. Holding my body, he eases back and lies down in bed. I roll around in his embrace, giving a sigh of bliss.
“Okay…” I pant, tilting my head back to look up at him. “What the hell did you just do to me?”
“I can show you again if you like,” He teases, caressing the underside of my arm
“Come on,” I complain, pinching the tight skin of his stomach. “You know what I mean.”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Joe chuckles, his chin brushing my forehead. “When you mounted me like that, I thought I was living in a fantasy. I mean: sixty-nine? With you? That’s the hottest thing I’ve done in my whole life.”
“Actually, it was a fantasy,” I affirm, planting a quick kiss on his chest. “My fantasy. My imagination just…” I pause, “...ran wild after the beach. I kept thinking of ways to seduce you, even in public.”
“You did?” He squints down at me. I nod assent. “Well, let’s save that for some other time,” he suggests, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Here’s a question,” I announce, setting my hand on his chest. “How come you got ready so fast after your first orgasm? I thought that was a little unusual.”
“Nah,” Joe shakes his head in disagreement. “I was in bed with this hot, curvaceous brunette. She’s hands down the sexiest woman I’ve ever slept with. And she can turn me on in a heartbeat.”
His words give me another reason to smile. I snuggle close, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest bringing a sense of tranquility to my heart and soul. This precious feeling is no stranger to me, but whoever gave it to me in the past either walked out on me or failed me in some other way. And I pray that my guardian angel is an exception to that rule, because I’ve had enough heartache.
Chapter Thirty
Joe
My simple plan worked like a charm. Michelle and I had a fantastic time. Still, other than that, it proved to me what kind of woman she is. Unlike the snob, stuck-up bitches that rich pricks like Eric socialize with, I didn’t
need much to impress her. Dons could buy them all sorts of overpriced stuff, like necklaces, bracelets, earrings, or even sports cars, and they still wouldn’t be satisfied. All it took for Michelle to melt in my arms was a short drive to the beach, a bonfire, and some guitar playing. If that isn’t simple, I don’t know what is.
The next day signals the return to the nasty stuff I have to do for Eric. I’ve received hundreds of texts like the one he sends me in the morning.
“Walter Matheson is two months behind. Give him a good message for me.”
Walter is the owner of “Tropicana,” a lounge bar and restaurant in downtown Manhattan. Back in 2013, after a fire had almost burned the place to the ground, he was already in too much debt to borrow any more money from banks. He made the mistake of going to my boss. Matheson needed a little over a hundred-and-fifty grand for repairs, but the money he’s paid so far is more than three times that. That’s the cost of doing business with loan sharks. Eric is threatening to do what a huge gas explosion couldn’t: Shut down “Tropicana” for good.
Of course, after everything that’s happened lately, I’d be a fool to go there alone. The guy I have to rough up is a 5’9”, skinny old man, who’s not a fan of confrontations. I’ve known him for more than five years, and I have yet to hear him raise his voice to anybody, not even his staff. Walter doesn’t even have a security detail. He’s not the one I should watch myself around, though. It’s that weasel, that joke of a Don, that worries me the most. He’s unpredictable in good times. There’s no telling what he will do, with the threat of losing his father’s fortune still looming over him. I don’t care what he said to us about Michelle the other day. I’ve been working for him for nine years, and I’ve never trusted him. I won’t start now.
Donny, Bryan, and I are climbing down the stairs that lead to Tropicana’s basement, dozens of cars speeding along the road behind us. Striding in first, I scan the large hall. More than twenty people in white uniforms and tall hats are standing over the counters in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, meat, and fish. Waiters are carrying huge trays full of plates in and out of the room, and there is smoke rising from the rotisserie in the upper right corner. Walter is down the hall, talking to one of his cooks. The minute he spots us, the guy looks like he’s seen a ghost. His olive complexion turns to a pale green, and the hollow gaze in his small, brown eyes gives away his tension.
“How’s it going, Walter?” I ask, my confident footsteps closing the distance between us.
“Not so well I’m afraid,” he claims, folding his arms across his chest. “Business is at an all-time low.”
“And what the fuck are all these people doing here?” I smirk, looking around me. “What do you pay them with? Don’t tell me they work out of the goodness of their heart.”
“Look, I know that my payments haven’t been consistent,” Walter admits, taking a short step back. “I have a lot to pay for these days. My daughter is getting married next month, my son just graduated from…”
“Yeah, yeah…” I interrupt, clenching my fists. “Come on, Matheson. You know the drill. You borrowed money from Santone. You pay him in time? It’s all good. You don’t? You’re in trouble. What’s it going to be?”
At that moment, a thump against the door we came in from grabs my attention. I whirl my head around, only to discover two men in black suits, strutting towards us with rifles in their grasps. My eyes shoot wide open with fear as the first bullet rips through the atmosphere. It hisses past my right arm and lodges into the wall in front of me. Matheson is spinning around. I don’t even have time to draw my gun. Walter storms out of the hall as I lunge right. Landing on my chest, I roll on the floor, hiding behind the nearest counter. In the blink of an eye, all hell breaks loose. Every member of the staff starts screaming at the top of their lungs while they sprint towards the exit. A hail of bullets tears vegetables and meats alike to shreds, sending them flying off the counters. I flatten my back, another bullet ricocheting off the edge of the pillar on my right. Holding my breath, I slowly reach down into my pants. I ease my gun out of my belt, sneaking a peek over the lowest counter shelf. Donny and Bryan are sitting next to one another behind a pillar across from me, their knees brought to their chests, guns in their hands. I doubt it’s wide enough to fit them both. Even more bullets are striking the pillar, ripping off chunks of concrete and paint. One of the thugs is heading straight for me, his leather shoes shining under the fluorescent lighting. Breathing out, I shut my left eye and aim at him. I squeeze the trigger, his partner barely twenty feet away from my friends. His agonizing cry echoes back against the walls of the hall as I hit my target. One more shot strikes him in the left knee, knocking him off his feet. The rifle is continuing to fire as his body sways backwards. Casings litter the floor around his feet, his body tumbling down with a thump. His fall draws his comrade’s attention. All of a sudden, he turns away from Donny and Bryan and aims down at the counter. Another hail of bullets strikes the steel surface over my head, sending sparks flying up through the air, forcing me to hide once more. I roll over on my back, shot after shot of adrenaline rushing through my veins. With each passing second, his image is growing larger on the shelf. Bryan crawls around the pillar, bringing his right leg up near the side of his torso, and moving his left arm up above his head, bending it. Our attacker’s magazine clicks empty, his partner moaning in pain while blood dribbles out of his wounds. Releasing the empty magazine, he yanks a full one out of his jacket pocket, not taking his eyes off the counter. He slides it up into the grip until it clicks into place. Yet, he doesn’t get a chance to unload this one, too. Three bullets from Bryan’s gun tear the silence. One of them penetrates the stranger’s stomach, another, the left side of his chest, and the third the back of his head. His body drops down on the floor, squashing bits of cucumbers and carrots. I jump up, breathing a sigh of relief. I jog around the counter, fixing my gaze on that still breathing prick. His rifle lies five feet to his right, way beyond his reach.
“Alright, fucker,” I snarl, pointing my weapon down at him. “Tell me who sent you, and I’ll make this quick.”
“Fuck you!” He cries out, his face twisting into an expression of pain and rage.
For a moment, I’m torn between two options. Blowing his head off, or trying to beat the truth out of him. I would definitely enjoy the latter a lot more, but will it get me what I need? I don’t think so. They guy’s graying hair indicates that he’s been doing this for a long time, perhaps even more than I have.
“Boys…” Donny’s weak voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He’s staring down at a buzzing cell phone, just beside the bleeding stranger. He bends down and picks it up, pressing his lips together. Holding it out in front of me, I discover the reason behind his expression. The caller ID reads “Santone,” Bryan swipes his index finger across the screen, waves of shock shooting up my spine and into the back of my head.
“Is it done?”
Recognizing Eric’s high-pitched voice, I snatch the phone from my friend’s grasp, and then sit down on my knees beside the assassin.
“Tell him ‘yes’ and you will walk out of here,” I speak in a firm tone, covering the speaker with my fingers.
“Yeah,” He clips out, wincing in pain. I press the red button on the screen and toss it across the floor, my blood pumping through my veins. I cock my gun, understanding very well what I have to do.
“Hey!” He cries out as I aim at him yet again. “You said…”
Another pull at the trigger shuts him up once and for all. The bullet rocks his head back, a pool of blood oozing out of his head, forming a small pool over the floor. I rise back up to my feet, my stomach churning at the realization of who had set us up like this. The son of a bitch we had done unspeakable things for… This was his way of showing his gratitude. This was our reward for years and years of being his henchmen. Two goons armed like Rambo, with a direct order not to leave “Tropicana” before all three of us were dead.
“I should go f
etch Matheson,” Donny states, shoving his pistol back in his waist. “I bet he was in on this.”
“What, he agreed to turn his kitchen into a fucking warzone? What would he get out of that?” I groan, shifting my gaze up to his. “There were two dozen people in here. He didn’t know shit, but I don’t care anyway. The old man isn’t our problem. That little shit is.”
“Fuck!” Donny yells, kicking the lifeless body of the guy I just shot.
“Boys, I need to go pick up Michelle,” I declare, glancing at them one at a time. “I’m taking her up to my cabin.”
“We’re coming with,” Bryan says, tearing his gaze away from the bodies to look at me.
I walk out of that basement, unable to shake the feeling that I’m walking out of the last nine years of my life. In a way, I’m relieved that I’ll stop taking orders from Santone. Eric’s old man was ten times the man his son is. We never got along, either. But this is more than just a business relationship that went south. My friends, Michelle, and I have targets on our backs now. And my former boss will come after us with everything he’s got. I can only hope that I will get to her before he does…