by N. M. Brown
Feeling the full effect, Echo whispered to her own pray. “Have you ever been rewarded McQueen?”
Every pair of eyes were trained to Sam and her pray, the woman shaking in her seat. “Yes.” McQueen breathed, his chest heaving.
“You have?” Echo hummed in his ear, hands now touching his skin, running all under his shirt, her nails trailing lower, closer to her goal. “Oh Queenie, you’ve held out on me. Here I thought you were a good little Catholic boy, legs crossed and balls as blue as the sky.” She locked her teeth on his ear lobe and tugged hard. He moaned, clamping it behind sealed lips. “Moan for me Queenie.” She asked rubbing her palm on his crotch.
McQueen rolled his shoulders, trying to knock her off, but all he did was rub his back against her front, releasing a breath from Echo's lips. Sam had now rolled the woman’s tight dress up, the prudes’ legs were wide with desire, showing her delicate white underwear. The woman’s friends who had previously been enjoying the show, now took part, holding the woman’s legs apart and her arms above her head. Vanilla night it may be, but a little helpful push often got people finding what they truly desired. Head tipped slightly back in pleasure, the woman groaned, thrashing side to side as Sam nibbled at her underwear.
Echo watched as the ladies’ legs jerked, waiting for the pent-up release she wanted. Sam didn’t hold back. A high-pitched scream of ecstasy flew from the woman’s lips, her body writhing in pleasure.
McQueen grunted looking to the floor. “This is …I made a promise…I -… the body is His temple.”
“And look how it’s being worshiped.” Echo ran a finger along his chin, drawing his gaze back to the Sam who, satisfied with her work, had leisurely crawled back up the woman’s body for a kiss, before slinking away. Echo now had her whole-body press against McQueen, her breasts ran along his broad shoulders while her fingers danced in his hair.
The front of McQueen's pants was tented, while his whole body shook with revulsion but also lust. His head toppled forward, his chin on his chest, but Echo just followed, running her finger tips through his hair, while the other drifted from his face, dipping down his chest. It wasn’t until she dipped low enough, he finally struck out a hand to hold her still. But the damage was done. “Enough.” He gasped. “Enough… please.”
Echo smiled as he begged. Kneeling behind him, arms draped possessively around his body she felt empowered. She liked the Detective, practically on his knees, head bowed and desperate. “I like it when you beg.” She whispered, tongue sweeping the curve of his ear.
“Enough.” He growled slightly stronger, rolling his shoulders again. Echo whimpered as her tight, sensitive nipples rubbed on her lace bra once more. If McQueen heard, he didn’t care or hid his reaction well. “I want to leave.”
“Don’t go.” Echo tried, rubbing his shoulders. “Not yet. We’re only just starting to have fun.”
The dancers were back on their perches, swaying in spotlights keeping the energy up. Some customers were dozing, spent for the evening, while some had moved onto rampant sex, it be oral, vaginal or anal. The air was hot, and the room was starting to spin. Echo loved it when Sam allowed herself to take full possession of the room. It was euphoric and wonderful. It set the mind ablaze and made the body free like every cell and every nerve was alive with electricity.
McQueen could feel it. Shirt undone completely, a sheen of sweat across his brow, he squeezed his eyes shut as his hands remained clamped in his lap. Every other man in the room had a fist around a cock: his own or someone else’s. But faithful, holy McQueen still rested his hands on his thighs.
“Need and want are too very separate things.” Echo stated. She’d removed her shirt now, all thought of the bandages underneath had gone and she was working on the button of her leather skirt. “The question is; what do you want?”
“I-… I want-…” McQueen breathed. “I want out of here.” The words seemed almost painful for him to say and this intrigued Echo. Cardinal House was a magnet for the lowlifes and the sinful, so she’d never come across a holy believer in its dark depths. She’d never seen anyone hold off on their desires so well before. Echo almost thought about letting him go, but a wicked, wicked thought crossed her mind, and a sinful plan formed.
“Ok Queenie.” She smiled. Gripping his chin, she made him look at her. Her long hair fell forward, creating a veil just for them to hide behind. “I’ll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can breathe.”
Pulling the Detective from his seat, she slowly walked him across the floor wearing nothing but her undone skirt, bra and bandages. Shirt flapping open as they walked, it showed his toned stomach and golden nipples. There was no six-pack, or even four. Dedicated cops didn’t body build for aesthetics like most men. Instead it was all hardened muscle used for strength not show.
Yes, Echo thought looking back, what a fine body it was. She couldn’t wait to devour it.
XI
McQueen staggered as cold air rushed around him. He felt the drunk haze lift from his eyes , while the pounding behind his ears slowed. He leaned against the wall, using it to support himself, taking a minute to feel alright again, though his vision still spun. Was it the alcohol? Opening his eyes, he saw Echo stood directly opposite him, watching him with a smile.
“What?” He asked, trying to keep his eyes from wandering her body. He felt a flush creep up his cheeks when he saw nothing but dark lace. Her skin was paler in places and it took him a moment to see they were bandages. “What happened?” He walked forwards reaching to check her arms, but his uncooperative feet staggered.
“Nothing.” She smiled as he ran his fingers over her arms: skin then bandage, skin then bandage, over and over. “Just an uncooperative door.” McQueen frowned, not liking her flippant answer. Some of the bandages were stained pink, blood pooling on the other side. But before he could ask for more information, she coiled her fingers through his pant loops, dragging him closer. “Did you still want to go to that quiet, restful place?”
McQueen blinked. “That’s not here?”
A soft, feminine chuckled came from Echo’s lips. “No silly. This is just the corridor. Follow me.” Slipping her hand in his, she led him over to another set of stairs, their layout matching the floor below. Curving round to the right, McQueen kept his eyes on the carpet beneath him, so he didn’t lose his footing. Trailing up and up, he felt like the steps went on forever, until he stumbled tragically and found himself on the top floor.
Directly ahead was much like the floor blow; a grand display of windows overlooking the front drive, though from up here you could see a lot more of the grounds. In fact, his mind thought distantly, you could almost see to the bridge. It was dark now, but in the day time…
A sudden change of pace snapped McQueen from his thoughts and he found once again he feet were being uncooperative. Blinking at his surroundings, he saw similar doors to the ones below, and he quickly counted four. Unfortunately, only one was open, showing a very grand room with a long-clothed table that could have been fit for a king. However, they didn’t stop there, and by McQueen's guess, the entire floor was empty.
“Why is no one up here?” He asked. The varnished wooden floor was solid under foot, and the patter of their footsteps was too loud. Beautiful large plants with a strong fresh fragrance flew past them as Echo continued to pull him along. If his drunk brain wasn’t too addled, he calculated they would be coming up on the back of the house soon enough and there wasn’t anywhere else to go.
“The… owners of each room, aren’t here. They only come home for special occasions. In fact,” Echo paused looking back. “They’re due to arrive soon, so maybe you can come back when the whole House is in swing.” She chuckled, “Now that is a sight to see.”
McQueen didn’t reply, only giving one short, curt nod. Despite the alcohol running through his mind, he had no doubt he never wanted to come back here again. Part House, part bar, part brothel, it was the last place he wanted to be, but in his current state he didn’t want
to risk his chances at getting home.
Finally, they did, as McQueen predicted, reach the back of the house and there was nothing at the end of this corridor but a tall window that overlook the stone veranda and the gardens beyond. That and a very oddly placed bookshelf mainly for its complete lack of books.
“What are you-?” But as the words tumbled from McQueen lips Echo softly and easily pride back the case, revealing a hidden staircase behind. “…Awesome.” He breathed, feeling every cell of his childhood ablaze with excitement.
“Yer. Adin and I always got a kick out of this.” Echo smiled, looking at the dark stairwell with pride. It took McQueen an extra second to realize that she meant her brother, Adin. The Adin who killed people… for sport.
“You speak fondly of him. That surprises me.” He admitted.
There was a flash of something, an emotion McQueen didn’t quite catch, that flew across Echo’s face before a sly smile he couldn’t miss took over. “Now, now Queenie, no Detective work. We’re here to relax, are we not?”
Clutching at his hand again, she pulled him up the stairs allowing the bookcase to gently close behind them with ease. “Where does this go?” Adrenalin spiked through McQueen's veins making his heart beat faster. He was still hot from the Summer Annex. “This…- ah, this must have been part the original structure.” McQueen swallowed, looking at the wooden panelled walls instead of her. Anything but her.
“This is the passageway to the top floor.” Echo answered him. “To the attic where you and I can really start to relax.” She winked. “If you take the stairs down, you’ll end up in the kitchen.”
“Is it nice?” McQueen asked. “I didn’t see any catering going around the House. Do you feed people?” Now, even to himself McQueen sounded crazy, nervous even. He shouldn’t be nervous, he didn’t have a reason to be. Yet, nevertheless, there he was, nattering away like he was about to give a presentation at Sunday school. Before he was ready, they were at a door which opened effortlessly under Echo’s touch and McQueen’s eyes were flooded with light. With tentative steps, he followed onwards.
✽ ✽ ✽
The room had a high roof and a slanted ceiling on one side, with an old, cobwebbed chandelier hanging from the middle. To his left wasn’t a wall, but the giant glass greenhouse that over looked the side of the house but with a balcony that continued to wrap around to the front. It was stunning view, but McQueen didn’t want to think what the heating bill here looked like.
“What’s this room for?” he asked spinning to get a full view.
There wasn’t much else in the room; a simple mattress bed in the centre, a couch on one wall next to a bookcase, while streams of fabric hung looped in the rafters from the ceiling. Three white pillars ran down the middle of the room, holding the roof up, chipped and vintage. It was a festive room but compared with the rest of the house…
“My place.” Echo had taken a seat on the couch, legs swinging freely hair trailing over one shoulder. Luckily, she wasn’t looking at him, instead looking around the apartment like he was meant to be doing. However, McQueen had stalled at the sight of long, lean pale legs in the foggy light of the chandelier. She never seemed to be trying whenever he caught himself watching her, but she was always stunning.
“You live here?” he asked distracting himself.
“Yep. All for me.” He didn’t miss her hungry gaze as it slid back to him, “All by myself. All alone.”
Yes, McQueen thought, how terrible. Turning his back, he looked to the window and spotted the balcony. “You use that?”
“Now and again.” Her voice was closer, but McQueen didn’t turn around.
“Quite a view.”
“It’s ok. I’ve seen better.”
“Oh.” McQueen coughed, “Such as?” he suddenly felt a presence behind him and his whole body tightened.
“This one.” Skilled fingers he’d felt before slipped around his front before he could move an inch. “I don’t- “He stuttered sharp breaths streaming from his mouth as she began to slowly move.
“I don’t, I don’t,” She mocked, doing things with her fingers that caused his back to arch and his toes to curl. “You are always saying you can’t or won’t or shouldn’t. Live a little Queenie.” Her other hand popped the button on his trousers and they pooled around his feet. He could feel her arousal at his back. His fingers twitched to reciprocate; to draw cries from her lips instead of just his own. Suddenly she was in front of him, one hand still working him; the pressure building to be almost unbearable. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders exposing his chest. She attacked, lips dancing across his chest shocking him.
“Shit.” He breathed. He’d had sex before, but his previous partner had never done what Echo was doing to him now. McQueen hissed as her tongue and teeth made him feel things he didn’t even know he could. It had never been like this, his traitorous mind thought. Sly fingers twisted again, and he found his hand gripping Echo’s arms to keep himself upright. Swallowing hard he threw back his head and bit his lip, fighting back urges he felt in his very bones.
Dragging her nails down to his abdomen Echo left angry red marks but quickly soothed them with her mouth, planting soft kisses over the tracks. “Ummm’, is that all you can say Queenie?” Her hand had stopped moving. It seemed she wanted this to last.
McQueen’s heavy breathing hitched as he felt hot breath though his boxer front. “Shit, shit, shit.” Maybe she didn’t want this to last.
His mind quaked and was starting to fall to pieces… He couldn’t… He shouldn’t… It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair. He’d made a promise and so had ‘she’. They’d said they need time and things could work out... It was just time they needed… So, they would have time and space, but they would always remain loyal… faithful…
But then a hot, talented mouth swirled the very tip of him, and McQueen resistance wavered sharply. This, he thought, this was so much better. But the thought brought up bad memories… painful memories of the past…
… Sweet laughed when he’d brought her flowers home, the smell of her on the pillow sheets the day before laundry day, the warm, cosy nights by the fire in winter…
McQueen ripped himself from Echo and wobbled back. Feet still caught in his trousers, he relished in the distance while the illogical part of his mind told him he needed more.
“Queenie?” Echo’s eyes met his and she push some hair from her face. It was one of the most erotic things he’d seen, but that showed him he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t one for quick flings or a raunchy grind in the back room somewhere. He had always sort for an understanding on a personal level before having sex, which was why he’d only slept with one other woman. To be turned on by a hair toss-… no, this wasn’t him.
McQueen looked down at herbody, so close still and he wanted her. Her wanted her badly. He wanted to,… Lord-above knew he wanted to. He wanted it…
“No.” His words didn’t reach as loud as a whisper.
“What did you say?” Echo asked, moving close again, biting as his collar bone some more.
“I can’t, lass.”
“What?”
McQueen felt the anguish inside his head as stepped away once more, pulling up the barrier of his trousers. It was the same anguish and uncertainty he’d felt down stairs which only proved to himself he was right. “I can’t. I can’t I’m sorry.”
“You’re-… you’re sorry?” Echo's breathing was slowing down, her body coming down from its high. “What do you mean you’re sorry?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he looked away, breaking all contact. “I can’t fu-… I can’t make love to you. I can’t, I’m sorry,” He couldn’t look at her. She sat there on the edge of the bed, body ready and lips plump and kissable and he had to walk away. His mind argued, each breath he gave, dying to return to her, but his heart screamed louder.
He’d expected her to cry or at least try and tempt him back. He didn’t expect her to laugh and to stand with him as he backed
away. “I don’t want you to ‘make love to me’ Queenie.” She smiled up at him. “I just want you to fuck me. Make me scream. Mark me.” She reached up on tiptoes, each word caressing McQueen’s mind, her fingers dancing over his sensitive skin.
“And that’s why I can’t.” He stepped back out of reach.
Walking around the bed, he slipped on his shirt without a word. His jacket was on the floor and his shoes were by the door where he left them. Echo didn’t say anything as he sped past collecting his things. She didn’t say anything as he shoved his feet into his shoes, nor did she stop him when he left via the way he came in. Only when he was a floor away did he hear the deafening scream that followed his hurried footsteps. It was gut retching and angry. It was a scream full of twisted pain and range. It tore at his resolve, begging him to turn around. But he forced himself to keep moving, down and down, around and around as he sped towards the front door.