The Perfectionist_Sin City Sentries [Book Two]

by Myra Scott

  “I think your tight little ass deserves some attention, too,” I purred. I pulled out a tiny bottle of lube and squirted it over my fingers.

  “Yes, please. Sir,” he grunted breathlessly. Still gently stroking his cock, I began massaging his little hole with my slick fingers, then slowly, carefully slid the plug into his ass. He groaned as it cleared each ring of muscle. This was what I lived for: to see this strong, silent, powerful man reduced to whimpers and whines of pleasure and need. Especially when it was a man as sexy and irresistible as Mick. I wanted him to feel good—no, amazing.

  “Does that feel good, Mick? Do you like having your tight asshole all filled up while I stroke your cock?” I growled. He nodded vigorously, his eyes shut as he gave in to the pleasure.

  “Yes. Oh god, yes, Sir.”

  I reached down and began to pump my own cock with my free hand, my own breaths coming quicker now, too. It felt so fucking good, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. And I had a pretty good feeling that Mick wanted more, too.

  “Do you like getting fucked?” I asked gruffly. “Do you like having a giant cock shoved inside your tight little hole? Tell me, Mick. Do you like that?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at me, his cheeks flushed pink as he panted. He wore an expression of disbelief that showed he couldn’t believe what I was asking. He nodded. “Yes, Sir. I love a cock in my ass.”

  “I think you’ve behaved yourself well enough to deserve that,” I replied. I reached down and gently, cautiously withdrew the butt plug while he groaned. His eyes never left mine.

  “Sir?” he murmured. I reached over to the drawer and pulled out a condom, letting go of his cock and mine to unwrap it and gently slide it over my shaft. I got up on my knees, stroking my cock as I looked down at him. He was impatient, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he waited for me to fuck him.

  “I’m going to make you forget all about your troubles, Mick. I’m going to give you everything you want. More than you deserve,” I added sharply. I had to stay in character. I squirted more lube into my hand, massaging it along the outside of my cock.

  “Please,” he murmured. I lifted his legs, his cock straining as I pressed my own shaft against his tight hole. Slowly, teasingly, I pushed inside.

  “Oh, fuck!” he cried out, tensing up as I delved deeper and deeper.

  “God, you’re so fucking tight,” I groaned, reveling in the sensation of his taut ass stretching to accommodate my massive shaft. I gently began to thrust, pumping into Mick’s ass harder and harder. His cock twitched as I pounded into him, making him cry out in pleasure.

  “Yes! Ah, God! Fuck, yes!” he grunted. His eyes rolled back in his head as I arced in and out, and I reached up to lace my fingers with his as I drove my cock inside him again and again. I rode him hard, knowing he could take whatever I threw at him. Mick was tough and willing, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  I picked up the pace, slamming into his prostate while he moaned, his fingers tightening with mine. “Such a good little cock whore,” I growled. “So fucking good. Do you like that, Mick? You like getting your ass fucked?”

  “Yes, Sir!” he replied breathlessly. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

  “Not until I say so,” I commanded. “Your cock, your ass, your body belongs to me.”

  “I belong to you,” he repeated deliriously. “I’m all yours.”

  As I slammed into him harder and harder, I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his cock, stroking him. The combined pleasure of my cock in his ass and my hand stroking him was too much, and I knew it. I wanted to send him over the edge.

  “Please, Sir,” he whimpered. “Please, I need to come.”

  “You want to come all over yourself like the little slut you are?” I teased.

  “Yes. Yes, Sir, I need it.”

  “On the count of three,” I ordered. “One, two… three.”

  “Fuck!” he cried out, ejaculating hot, sweet cream all over his belly. He twitched and writhed underneath me, completely overwhelmed with bliss. The sight of this ridiculously sexy man, sticky with his own seed, was too much for me. I pounded into his ass harder and faster, losing control.

  Finally, I climaxed inside him, bellowing as I pumped the condom full of my release. “Mick!” I gasped, my hips snapping with a few final thrusts as I eked out every last drop.

  After a few tense moments, I let go of his hands and withdrew my cock slowly from his tight passage. He groaned, his cock dripping sticky seed as I untied his wrists. He lowered his arms, which had to be aching hotly by now, and I got up to dispose of the condom and clean myself up a little. I brought a warm, damp towel to tidy him up, wiping the sweet come off his rigid abdominal muscles. He watched me with silent, wide eyes as I cared for him, doting on him like a real lover. This was an important part of the game, making sure my client left feeling taken care of after our rough play. And I had gone much further with Mick than I had ever before. I just could not resist him, no matter how hard I tried. He turned me into some raging wild beast, unable to control myself.

  I brought him some water, sitting on the edge of the bed while he nursed his cup and breathed deeply. I gave him a warm smile. “How do you feel?” I asked.

  He looked at me with those big brown eyes and I felt my heart melting. “A million times better,” he admitted. “Thank you. I don’t know how you do it.”

  I shrugged and patted him on the thigh. “It’s my job,” I said simply. Then, I couldn’t resist prodding a little more. Cautiously, I asked, “So… your situation at work. I know it’s not really any of my business, and you do not have to tell me anything, but—”

  “I’m being sued,” he answered. I blinked a few times.

  “Sued?” I repeated. “By whom?”

  He sat up straighter and sighed. “This immature frat guy. He was messing around, causing trouble at the casino, and I hit him. It happened so quickly. I was just trying to subdue him. But now he’s filed a lawsuit.”

  “Jeez,” I murmured, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Mick. You don’t seem like the kind of guy to fly off the handle like that, so I’m sure whatever that idiot was doing, he deserved it.”

  Mick gave me a genuinely appreciative look. “Thank you. It’s really good to hear that.”

  “Of course,” I replied softly. “It’ll all settle down, I’m sure. This is Vegas. People here can be crazy and impulsive sometimes. Lawsuits get tossed around like a beach ball at a pool party, and most of the time they get thrown out. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Mick. You’re a good guy. I’m a pretty awesome judge of character, and I can tell. You’ll be alright.”

  Mick looked at me hard, those brown eyes warm and, dare I say, adoring. Then, suddenly, he leaned forward and kissed me, pressing those soft, sensuous lips against mine. I was so shocked I stiffened up, but then I moaned and leaned into the kiss, ignoring the alarm bells going off in my mind.

  Just as I was reaching up to caress his face, he jerked away, his eyes wide and horrified at what he’d just done. “Oh, fuck,” he murmured. “The contract. No kissing. Shit. I—I’m so sorry. I just lost control. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He all but jumped out of bed and rushed across the room to pull on his clothes, sloppily. I watched him, still speechless as my mind struggled to catch up with what my body had just done. Carrying his shoes in his hand, he ran out of the chamber, calling out, “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

  The door closed behind him loudly, leaving me silent and confused.

  Then, a slow, genuine grin spread across my face. I reached up and gently touched my lips, tingling with the remnants of a stolen kiss. My heart galloped along so quickly I thought it might fall right out of my chest.

  Mick had kissed me. And far from feeling angry or violated, I just felt ecstatic. Overjoyed. Every nerve and cell of my body
was on fire.

  “Oh, god,” I mumbled, realizing the truth. “I’m falling for him.”

  CHAPTER NINE - MICK

  I knocked on the door to the security monitoring office, shifting my weight from one foot to the other impatiently. After a few seconds and the sounds of heavy footsteps from behind the door, it opened, and I was face to face with Bart.

  We locked eyes for a moment, and I held up a six-pack of beers.

  He gave me a curt nod. “Good thinking. Let’s do this.”

  We stepped into the security room and shut the door behind us, leaving us in relative darkness except for the white glow of the screens and monitors that covered the wall. I’d only been in here a few times before, but it always struck me as kind of funny that our monitoring room really did match up to the stereotype of a dark room full of ominous screens watching every inch of the casino.

  The sounds of beers cracking open dulled the effect, at least.

  “Alright, I’ve got the rest of the footage from that night pulled up for us to go through,” he explained, pulling his belt up and resting a hand on his hip as he took a swig of his beer. “You watch right, I’ll watch left, and let’s see if we can’t find something incriminating on these kids.”

  “Ideally, an angle that makes it look like I didn’t try to hit the guy is what we want,” I said, taking a seat at the desk and leaning back.

  I took a long drink of the beer as Bart slowly paced around the room, watching all the screens as we started going through the footage. Most of it was unremarkable, but it would take a while for us to get through it all.

  After a few moments, Bart chuckled down at me. I blinked a few times, glancing around at the monitors trying to figure out what he was laughing at. Finally, I arched an eyebrow at him.

  “What?”

  “You’re pretty chill, all things considered,” he pointed out.

  “Should I be anxious? That’s not the most encouraging thing you’ve ever said there, Bart.”

  “Nah,” he said, “I mean I was expecting you to at least pretend to fight me on bringing alcohol into a workplace environment. At worst, I was thinking you’d chew me out for being unprofessional. Something about ‘alcohol impairment in a delicate situation’ or something.”

  “I do not sound like that,” I said flatly.

  Bart gave a deep chuckle, clapping a hand on my shoulder and shaking it gently. “Few days ago, you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown, bud. I know a changed man when I see one. What’s different?”

  My face went cherry-red, and I suddenly felt like a deer in the headlights. I opened my mouth to stammer a reply, but Bart just laughed out loud.

  “Damn, son, are you seeing someone?”

  I let out a groaning sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Bart, we’re here to do a job.”

  He let out a low whistle. “Definitely seeing someone.”

  “You know I like to keep my personal life private.”

  “Sure thing, bud,” he said. “It’s good to see you a little more relaxed, at least. God knows you needed it.”

  “Well, things need getting done around here, and I can’t do that if I let the stress kill me,” I admitted, my eyes scanning over the screens. “Anyway, you’re the expert here,” I said, changing the subject and gesturing to the screens. “Anything in particular I should keep an eye out for?”

  “When you see the assholes that are suing you, watch for anything they’re doing the rest of the night that could be incriminating,” Bart grumbled. “Just keep an eye on them in general. Like I said, the police took the best camera angle on the action, but the others might give us some perspective that they don’t have.”

  We settled in and drained our first beers watching the night’s events go by, but even as I kept my focus on the action, my mind kept drifting back to my session with Eric.

  If the first time had been a total release. The second had taken me to places I never thought I’d be able to go. I was starting to realize just how much of myself I’d let get wound up tightly and buried away. I barely knew what I liked, what I wanted, and what I didn’t like, but Eric had a way of teasing that all out as if he’d known me for years.

  My heart fluttered when I thought about him.

  What was more worrying was that I started thinking about what he was like outside the dungeon.

  I had to be honest, I had always raised my eyebrows at the idea of professional Doms when I was younger. I assumed most of them were just assholes who liked a professional excuse to be assholes in bed with people. And granted, I’d dated a few casual people who considered themselves full-time tops, and more often than not… it felt like that impression I had was right.

  But I’d never been with a professional one before Eric. Were they all like that? Somehow, I didn’t think they could be. Not to say others weren’t good, but the way Eric worked with me was something special. Wasn’t it?

  I gave my head a little shake that Bart glanced sidelong at, and I got a second beer, ignoring the smirk on his face. I knew he wanted to ask more, but I wasn’t about to let my work associates know I was seeing a professional.

  I couldn’t think this way about Eric. It was the most stereotypically dumb move to think that a career Dom really cared about you. It was his entire job to make the client think he’s special. I had to remind myself that. Things with Eric were just as professional as my relationship with the casino was.

  But then again, my relationship with the casino went a little further than that, whether that was officially the case or not. Could the same be said for my relationship with Eric?

  It had to be in my imagination.

  I took another drink of my beer and tried to focus. The fact that my current task might determine my future at the casino wasn’t helping. I needed to be able to keep a clear head, but this kind of stressful work just made me want to go to my next session with Eric all the sooner.

  “You alright?” Bart finally asked after a few rounds of glancing between me and the screens. “You seem a little distracted. That’s not like you.”

  “God,” I groaned, leaning back. “There’s no winning, is there? I’m too wound up, and I can’t focus. I relax a little, and I get my mind clouded up.”

  “Don’t let relaxing be what gets you anxious all over again, hotshot,” Bart said. “The trick is not to overthink these things. Just let what happens, happen.”

  “I wish it were that simple,” I murmured. “It just feels… well, it is completely unprofessional. I can’t really get around that.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ unprofessional about a relationship,” Bart grunted.

  I could only smile, because saying any more would be breaking ice I didn’t want to break just yet. “Yeah, suppose that’s true.”

  Maybe the answer was just to talk to Eric about how he was feeling. But then again, that would absolutely make things awkward if my suspicion was right, and he just saw this as a perfectly normal, pleasant professional relationship. I didn’t want to ruin that.

  But I couldn’t deny that I at least had a crush, even if that term sounded way too juvenile for the way I was feeling. The very thought of being considered a good client by Eric thrilled me and made me want to throw even more money at him.

  If a good Dom can really get in your mind and stick there, then Eric was the best there was, because he was dominating every inch of my imagination.

  I might have already ruined that relationship, though.

  That damn kiss.

  I tried to bury the thought so much that I even managed to forget about it for periods of time until it came back in my face twice as strong. It had been an enchanted kiss—the taste of his lips, the warmth of his mouth, the slights scruff of his beard I felt brushing against my face… it all made me want to melt in his arms.

  But it hadn’t been part of the session. That had been
just me. There was no doubt in my mind that Eric knew that. Maybe he was just willing to pretend he didn’t know and let it get brushed under the rug.

  The more I thought about it, the more sick to my stomach I felt.

  Still, he hadn’t cancelled our next session. I had to fight hard to keep my mind from thinking “Oh, he didn’t cancel because he liked it, too!” That was stupid. He was a professional—a perfectionist, just like me. He probably knew that his performance was so good that a lot of his clients fell for him sooner or later.

  But was it too much to just ask him about it?

  Agonizing over this was going to get to my head, I knew it. I cracked a smile at myself, knowing Bart was dead right. If there was one person who could turn his source of stress relief into a source of stress, it was me.

  Nothing ever mixed in my life—work and play were totally separate. That was true for Eric, too. It had to be. We were alike in that way, and I had to respect that.

  Unless my daydreaming made me miss something throughout the whole video for that night, we didn’t find anything of interest. The angles we had only caught bits and pieces of the fight, and until then, the guests were indistinguishable from any other casino-goers who were steadily getting drunk that night. The brawl itself was a confused mess. We could see people coming in and out, swinging fists, but nothing direct enough to put blame on anyone. We didn’t even see who threw the first punch.

  On the bright side, none of the other camera angles caught me there, either.

  “It’s not great one way or the other,” Bart said with a deep sigh. “Damn, I really wish we could get our hands on that main video. That’s really gonna make or break this.”

  “Thanks for the words of encouragement,” I said with a sardonic chuckle.

  “Anytime, bud,” Bart chuckled, finishing his third beer and handing me mine. I took a deep drink of it immediately.

  My next session with Eric couldn’t come soon enough.