by Ellen, Tracy
“Oh, before I forget. Can you and your little friend John come back here to Bel’s about five? In the spirit of collaboration on the Pact of Power we made this morning, I’m involved in a rescue mission I think you’ll want in on.”
Unmoving, Luke was checking me out and I couldn’t tell if he was listening. His eyes were on my cleverly presented cleavage a few inches from his face.
I wanted to take my bra off in an alluringly experienced, burlesque kind of way, but biting my lip, I was struggling with the hooks that I feared were caught on the lace. The sole purpose of the red balconette bra was not meant for coverage, but to enhance a girl’s cleavage enticingly. The sheer lace cups were styled straight across with a tiny red ruffle. The bra covered my nipples while still artfully showing them through the lace pattern.
It was the perfect bra for when you need a boost to feel feminine and girly.
My Boyfriend was getting teased by glimpses of my barely covered breasts because every time I jerked on the clasp, my long hair swung to and fro.
“Rescue mission?” Luke repeated in a murmur. Under his breath, he said, “I’d like to tie you up like this, Anabel. With your arms up behind your back and your pretty breasts thrust out.” He reached up and lazily traced a finger along the edge of the bra, letting it trail over my stiffened nipples.
“Sounds rather painful,” I responded doubtfully, as my arms were already sore from just this little time working on the stupid hook. Luke was smiling faintly when I let my hands fall with a frustrated noise and gave up on the clasp. Instead, I shrugged down the thin straps and worked the bra down, with a lot of wriggling and bouncing effort, until it rested around my waist. “Besides, we don’t have time for any fancy stuff. Shoot, I meant to ask you! Did you like my bra, Luke? By like, I mean the color red and the balconette style?”
At these questions, Luke slowly raised his eyes from the sight of my pretty, thrusting ta-ta’s bouncing and wriggling near his face to meet my inquiring eyes. “What rescue mission?”
Since he appeared to be in no hurry to get my other dumb boot unzipped, I decided it could stay on. I took my left leg off the loveseat and unbuttoned my jeans. I wiggled them down over my hips and stepped out of the right pant leg. The left one was left hanging over the stuck on boot. I’d been careful to leave my thong on, hoping maybe he’d have a comment to make about it. I wasn’t sold one hundred percent on Anna’s statement that men don’t care about bras and undies, just the T and A under them. I’d like to think while I do love buying seductive lingerie to please myself; it pleased me best to know I’m pleasing the man looking at me in the damn things.
Hands on hips, I stood in front of Luke’s sprawled legs and watched his hands while he undid his jeans. I have a thing for men’s hands. Luke’s hands were well-made and while strong, his fingers were long and artistic. They’re also thick enough to give a girl squirming ideas. He kept his nails trimmed short and the half-moons were white against his bronzed skin.
Glancing up, it was to see Luke’s eyes moving slowly over my body. I felt it like hot licks everywhere his gaze touched. They lingered the most on my breasts, and my nipples hardened in arousal to almost painful points in anticipation of his hands and mouth.
Luke’s voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly when he stated reverently, “You have the most beautiful, responsive tits.”
“Thank you.” Remembering to breathe, I calmly explained, “There’s a woman here in town that has a niece needing to be rescued this weekend from a man looking to sexually molest her in exchange of paying her stepdad’s gambling debts. Are you in? I could use your expertise on this one.”
Since Luke is so flatteringly enamored with my breasts, I lightly cupped and squeezed them to get his attention. Then I ran my hands down my sides and around the curves of my hips to bring Luke’s attention to my red lace thong. The strings were the same red, frilly lace as the bra. It’s really cute.
“Observe the matching thong. More accurately called a V string.” I took a few hopping steps to turn around to present the rear view. I heard Luke moving behind me and the clink of his belt buckle, and then a ripping sound. “It’s the patch of V shaped fabric right here,” I wiggled and indicated with a pointing finger, in case Luke had a problem figuring out where I was describing, “above the plump little cheekies, that gives it this name. This is versus the slightly thinner strip of fabric on the more commonly known G string.”
I didn’t get a chance to face forward again before Luke put his thumbs in the thong’s strings on my hips and pulled it down my past my knees. The red underwear fell off my right leg when he pulled me back until I sat on his lap. I was straddling his legs with my back to him and couldn’t be any happier. He hadn’t taken his jeans all the way off, but just pulled them down enough that I felt the hard length of him between my legs.
I fell back against his chest on a rapturous sigh and tilted my mouth up for his hard kiss. Reaching my arms up behind me and around his neck, I moved on his lap and moaned against his lips at the touch of his hands. His one hand toyed with my responsive tits, roughly fondling and squeezing from one breast to the other. Simultaneously, his other hand palmed my entire cha-cha region and he pressed against me. His hand stroked me and not with teasing, light touches. He boldly stroked down my lips, parted me, and entering my wetness with two thrusting fingers. Writhing under the assault of his masterful hands and mouth, I have been ready for this since Luke said my name twice when walking into the office and surprising me.
With my head thrown back on his shoulder and his face angled down towards me, green glittering eyes under arching black brows filled my vision when I opened my heavy lids from his last kiss. A devilish grin lit up his saturnine face when his thrusting fingers did something electric inside me and despite my best efforts to be quiet; I cried his name on a hitched scream.
In a sensual fog, I still knew that I didn’t want to come by his fingers or all alone, so I stood up on my knees with my legs on either side of his thighs. I reached behind me to stroke his erection and felt the condom covering him already. Smiling down at my Hero over my shoulder because this was the best no-coffee break I’ve ever had, I leaned forward and arched my lower back. His sinful lips relaxed into a curve in response, Luke then looked down. At the same time he watched my hand around his rock-hard penis, he reached around my front and squeezed handfuls of my beautiful breasts while his middle fingers were rubbing my nipples. He was driving me mad.
I couldn’t stop stroking him and rubbing him against my cha-cha for a long while, but finally I allowed the large head of his cock to stay in the Tunnel of Love. Letting my head fall back, I held onto his wrists. I could feel my hair sweep past the bottom of my lower back to tickle my ass. Rotating my hips, I sank slowly down onto Luke’s lap, taking in as much of him as I could. Then I rose up and impaled myself on Luke again, and again, and again, until he was deep inside me. This slow screw of a Merry-Go-Round ride went on for I don’t know how long, until Luke growled my name in laughing frustration in my ear. When I didn’t stop the tortuously slow pace of enjoying every sliding, rubbing inch of riding my favorite black satyr in Vacationland, he took over. He pulled me back against him with an arm tight across my waist and then tilted my chin up to his face.
Touching the crease in his cheek, I lifted my lashes and murmured, “Well?”
Luke’s deep voice was on the arrogant side when he murmured, “Your red balconette bra and V string thong was fucking hot, Anabel, but next time you can please me by wearing white.” But I didn’t mind his dictatorial tone because with a powerful thrust he pleased me while adding, “And yes, I’m in.”
My fake boyfriend finally stopped blabbing, and covering my mouth with his drugging kisses, he made me highly ecstatic to be a girl. The alarm on my cell and I went off in screaming loud unison.
Chapter XIII
“Sympathy For The Devil” by The Rolling Stones
Wednesday, 11/21/2012
2:43 PM
For thirty seconds, I basked in the afterglow when realizing breaking-in the velvet loveseat was another first for me, but then it was back to the grindstone.
Surveying myself in the mirror, I confirmed I was properly dressed and presentable for the public. This only befits a female role-model of a business owner. I was thinking Chief Jack would be proud of me for stopping Luke from putting his mark on me with a very public hickey when biting down on my neck in all the excitement.
On that note, I looked up at Luke leaning beside me with a shoulder propped against the door. He was watching with interest as I messed with my hair, freshened up my lipstick, and attempted to reason with him about my screaming very loudly four minutes ago.
“Okay, Torquemada, I see that evil glint in your eye. This is so not funny. I can’t help it you make me lose my mind. This is entirely your fault for being so irresistible!”
The evil glinting turned into unholy gleaming when he asked, “Are you saying you have no control where I am concerned, Anabel?”
“What I’m saying is,” I widened my blue eyes innocently, and with my hands clasped in prayer against his chest, implored prettily, “please oh please, if anyone asks about the screaming coming from this office, promise you’ll say I was yelling at you for acting like an ass about something.” His smirking, arched eyebrow told me what he thought of that idea and I threw up my hands. “Fine then, Mr. ManlyMan!” I brightened and snapped my fingers. “I know, you can say, “Gee, I thought that Anabel had more class. I can’t believe she was screaming at her phone that way just because she did not like what she heard.” That would be the truth, right? I mean, I seriously did NOT like hearing that alarm on that stupid phone…”
My words trailed off when he took my gesticulating hand and brought it to his lips. After placing a slow kiss on my palm, he folded my hand into a fist and held it enclosed within his much larger hand.
Luke’s voice was quiet and his dark green eyes were serious when they searched my upturned face. “You should have told me Svetlana hit you.”
I laughed softly at that. “Should I have?” Bringing our joined hands up, I kissed his knuckles. Cradling our fists against my cheek, I smiled up at him. “It was a little slap. That’s girl stuff, my Hero.”
Luke’s response was to pull me closer and lean down to kiss me. It started as a sweet kiss, just our lips barely clinging. When I slid my hands up around his neck and pressed closer to the warmth of his chest, Luke’s arms tightened around me and his kiss went profound.
After a few moments of his lips moving heatedly over mine and his tongue stroking and licking the inside of my mouth, he slowed down at my moaning entreaties. I was beseeching him to let me get back to work and to keep kissing me. He smoothed back my hair and gently kissed me again, sucking a little on my bottom lip. Holding my cheeks in his hands, Luke looked down into my dazed eyes while his thumbs stroked lazily against my skin.
“I think we need to plan a long weekend together, just the two of us.” His lids lowered as he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth and murmured, “There will be no worries about how long I make you scream,” His wandering mouth kissed my cheek and then my neck, “or how loud.” His voice sent shivers throughout my body when he spoke near my ear, “I can do what I want to you for days, Anabel, and nobody will hear but me.”
“Tell me you’re not thinking of keeping me prisoner in your barn.”
Luke chuckled, and still shaky, I lifted my face for his kisses while I closed my eyes at the images he’d conjured up in my porno mind. I was picturing us in a remote Northwood’s cabin and I think I was tied-up and blindfolded, but not gagged. Or Luke was tied-up. My filthy imagination was all jumbled up, but I was positive there was a lumberjack involved who was hung along the lines of an ox.
I found myself holding my thighs tightly clenched together over the throbbing need Luke’s husky words and kisses were causing in my cha-cha central.
‘Jesus H. Merciful Christ on a stick! How can this man possibly get me this hot and crazy after just bringing me to a screaming orgasm not five minutes ago?’
That’s when I knew I was being seriously drugged and pimped out.
‘By my own body, no less!’
It wasn’t your run of the mill sexual infatuation chemicals set loose to do their dirty job. I have been systematically shot up with hormones that may as well be heroin for the addiction it was causing. I was overdosing and need help.
‘My name is Anabel Axelrod and I am a junkie.’
The supportive voices in my head rushed to the meeting. They reassured me if admitting your addiction was half the battle then it stands to reason, with my strength of will, I’ll soon be on the road to recovery.
I cried out in confusion, ‘I actually asked a man to not chase another woman around in her undies!’ I continued in the loudest internal wail, “Worse yet, I don’t know if he agreed or not by his answer, but I still rode him like I owned him! I’m my fake boyfriend’s Sex Whore!’
The sex kitten voice spoke up vehemently and insisted we need to fight fire with fire and get this dirty drug out of my system, permanently.
Equally vehement, I agreed. It was okay to want to have some fun with Luke Drake once in a while, but this wild, passionate, delirious need? It may feel incredible to tingle from stem to stern with one hooded look from those knowing eyes, and to come so intensely when he touched me that I screamed with abandon and felt faint, but I was out of control over a man.
This sexual addiction was shameful, revolting, intolerable, and disgraceful.
‘It must come to an end before coming ends ME!’ I screamed, visualizing a closetful of flat shoes and bedazzled T shirts.
Almost all of the voices agreed with fervent nods, shaking power fists, and yells of agreement. Even my laconic detective voice spoke up and summed up my dire situation in one eloquent word; ‘Run!’
The conspicuously silent dissenter was the mean mommy voice, but she’s always playing the devil’s advocate, so I was not too worried.
Trying to contain my relief at the thought of this emotional torment coming to a close in the near future, I opened my eyes and agreed eagerly, “Yes, let’s do it, please! A total immersion weekend of sexual torture and me screaming nonstop is exactly what I need.” I looked around for my phone. “How does next week, December fourth through the sixth, work for you?” My brows snapped together. “Tell me the Nazi-Scheduler doesn’t have to approve your time off?”
“Always in such a hurry, aren’t you, Anabel? Running off here or there and timing this or that.” Luke shook his head while running a long finger thoughtfully over his lips. His eyes were dark and slumberous to match his voice, and held me transfixed with their intensity. “I can see I’m going to have to teach you the hard way the benefits of slowing down.”
Shaking my head slightly to break his tractor beam, I wasn’t fooled. I saw when those eyes had flared with interest at the words sexual torture. Now that I knew he’d like to tie me up in awkward positions, I’d have to watch Mr. Tricky closer than ever. The only cattle prod I was letting near my body was the one Father Nature gave him.
I also noticed Luke didn’t answer me about next week or Svettie, but I was getting used to the way he operated. Unlike most men, I was now convinced Mr. Smooth Operator saw and heard all, but answered only when he was good and ready.
Spending a concentrated time with Luke was precisely what I needed to do. Realistically, I was not expecting the man to be cool and seductive all the time. What I do need to see was Luke morphing into the big drag of a baby most men proved to be once they stopped trying to impress. I was counting on familiarity breeding contempt in no time. Luke has many interesting facets besides being hotter than hell, but nothing I couldn’t get over. Once he started making me yawn by wanting to do that dinner thing Mac mentioned, I would be released from his thrall. Luke could be neutered down to one of my best male friends by mid-December.
I laughed darkly at that wishful thinking.
Luke would never be neutered down, but maybe I could butch up enough to wean myself off his pipes. We could settle down to a nice booty call every two to three months.
Gathering up my tattered reserves of willpower, I thought of foods that disgusted me to tamp down the throbbing tingles Luke caused in me. My mind firmly on purple slabs of raw liver and the stinky smell of cooked broccoli, I changed the subject.
Luke and I agreed to meet back here at five to go over the joint rescue mission. He didn’t show much reaction after I told him what little I knew of the details and what my tentative plan was to save Blanca. More accurately, he didn’t say one word, but just gave me that long, fascinated stare.
I didn’t mind that look because my fake boyfriend looked very smart while he drummed his fingers on the office door and silently contemplated me. I got that sometimes it took men longer to process those types of plans than women. Shrugging it off, I admitted it was a wee bit disappointing Luke was a little slow on the uptake. I thought he’d uphold the power part of our pact a little more and show some enthusiasm. Maybe this was a good thing considering my pipe weaning plans.
After Luke left, I hadn’t taken three steps from the door to peek at my new gun when I heard a commotion behind me in the store. It sounded all too familiar. Wincing at the noise, I stuck my head out of the office. Following the grating voice, I saw Svetlana with Stella up by the front display windows near the entrance to Bel’s. Svettie was raising some kind of ruckus.
Luke swiftly approached the pair and said something to Svettie that caused her to stop her screeching immediately. She stepped close to my fake boyfriend and latched onto to his arm. John hurried over to join them, and with a man on each side, they ushered the animatedly gesturing Russian out of the store. At Bel’s doors, Luke looked my way with a quick, rueful shrug. I managed a small nod in return, but my hands were clenched. Looking down at my fists, I was slightly unsettled by the abnormal urge I had to fling Svettie’s hands off Luke’s bicep and fling her out of my store. The abnormal part came from the desire to fling her through the display window and not the front door.