by KT Morrison
Contents
Title Page
Previously
1
2
3
4
Thanks
Other Books by KT Morrison
INFIDELITY: THE CAYMAN PROXY 5
KT Morrison
*
Copyright © 2016 KT Morrison
All rights reserved.
Previously:
Kate suffered under Omar’s blackmail. She doesn’t know that it was her husband Mitch’s idea. That he was the one who was really blackmailing her. Getting her to reluctantly do the dirty things he knew she wanted to.
Mitch’s stakes were too high, Kate worried too much about the consequences and how her dirty sex tape could destroy her husband’s life. How her dark desires could humiliate him publicly.
She snuck off to the south of France to confront Omar. To make him pay with his life. She didn’t find what she expected. He wasn’t arrogant, he wasn’t rough. He apologized.
Before she could stop herself she was in his arms, in his bed, taking that thing of his that she loved. And after a romantic, passionate evening he urged her to run away with him to Italy…
Also:
Mitch’s Investment House appears to have been shuttered during some sort of police investigation…
Kiley misunderstood the feelings of her best customer, heart surgeon Jay Shaker. While at his home she made an advance. It turned out to be unwelcome and now she fears repercussions at work…
1
Omar slid the white cotton cover off her very slowly, revealing glossy, sexy curves that shone in the dim light of the garage bay.
“Wow, she is beautiful,” Kate said.
He pulled the sheet right off and folded it up and put it on a rolling cart behind him. The ultralight, eleven-hundred pound race car was up and ratcheted securely in place on the borrowed trailer, and the two of them stood on either side of it.
The big aluminum rolling door of the bay was pulled right up. It was night time and they were alone in Frontec. It was dark out, the entrance lit up by an amber sodium light high up on a pole out front, up in the canopy of an old oak tree. There was the soft summer sound coming into the garage that Omar loved. The rustling leaves, the constant countryside chirping of the cigales. A pink flamingo had landed out front when they arrived and they watched it for a moment before they came in as it reared up from the salty puddle in the grass next to the shop and it awkwardly took flight, its neck undulating as it tried to pick up speed.
They were in the racing bay, the floor here painted a shiny, dove grey that gleamed with the lone two lights he had on, two bar fluorescents hidden high up in the girders that supported the roof.
He pulled the harness out of the way from off the seat, he said, “Here, come have a seat in it.”
“Really?” she said bashfully and ran a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked beautiful, even dressed down in regular cotton clothes and unwashed hair. Her skin was soft and smooth, flawless, and her eyes glinted in the dark. She was wearing faded denim pants that came down just below her knees, some canvas sneakers and a blue and white striped top with big, over-sized sleeves she had rolled up to her elbows. She somehow looked very French. They’d gone out to pick her up some items this afternoon, some things for her new start. She wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry just the diamond stud in her nose. And she hadn’t taken off her wedding ring yet.
“Yeah, come on,” he said and he held his hand to help her sit in the tight cockpit. He squat down low next to the car so he was face to face with her and rested his elbows along the edge. He pressed a button behind the display box and it lit up like a computer screen.
“It’s like a video game,” she said. “You’re not going to ask me to drive it, are you?” she said, looking horrified.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t worry. It’s not easy to operate.”
“Can you start it up?”
“Not really, we usually have it hooked up to computers, and we monitor it, then there’s a crank at the back, a starter motor that one of us fires up for the driver.” He showed her the controls, showed her how you would use the paddles to shift it.
“Is it really fast?”
“Of course,” he smiled. “It’s a Honda motor,” he said, “two-point four litre, air aspirated. Monocoque, all carbon fibre. It goes like crazy.” He could have gone on forever about it, how it worked, but he knew not to talk too long to girls about cars. Though he really wanted Kate to appreciate this. He wanted her to see his passion. To maybe somehow share it.
“Who drives it?”
“We have a driver from Spain. He’ll come along with us tomorrow.”
“It really looks like the batmobile or something, innit.” She ran her hands along the sleek black sides of the racer, feeling the vents in the carbon fibre that did give it a somewhat fearsome, intimidating profile.
Kate struggled to stand herself up and he held her hand and helped her, then lifted her at the waist as she stepped out of the race car. She walked along the trailer ahead of him and he admired her figure, her little waist and wide hips, her fine wrists.
He couldn't believe she made this choice. He couldn't believe she was here with him. She had turned her back on her handsome husband and his millions of pounds. He was an all right guy, a little weak between the sheets and his sexy wife here liked it a way he couldn't deliver. So she turned her back on him, gave him up and all his money to be with Omar. The things Omar did to her were worth more than his money. And she was head over heels with the thing he had between his legs.
She hopped down off the trailer, her chest giving up a hefty jiggle, and she walked on, adjusting her bra as she went. She looked at the convoy they had lined up for tomorrow, the vehicles packed with computers and tools they would need for the race next Saturday.
She made her choice to come away with him. He told her that he'd blackmailed her to force her to stay in his life. Not the truth. He didn't care about her in his life at first really. It was only when Mitch called it off and she was gone that he missed her. She believed she was with a man that blackmailed her with a horrible video of their very dirty coupling. Made her send him money and do other dirty things online with him. He’d tormented her. He invited her to a room in London and when she got there he had a horrible surprise for her: another man. And they were there to fuck her. And still she’d chosen to be with him. Took his apology and let him sweep her off her feet. His feelings for her were genuine. He wanted her desperately to be in his life. But still, he wouldn't betray Mitch. He wouldn't tell Kate the truth. There were still opportunities here to be had and he didn't want to burn a bridge. Sure he was running away with the man's wife but he wasn't going to do anything with her that he hadn't done already. Nothing he hadn't done to her right in front of her husband while he watched.
How would she feel if she found out her husband loved her so much he paid Omar to pretend to blackmail her. Or hated her so much he did it. Omar still really couldn't figure Mitch out. Or Kate. The way those two were with each other was so strange. They loved each other but Mitch allowed such bad behaviour from her and then he turned and did terrible things back to her. What would Kate think if Omar told her that Mitch had given him a good deal of money to turn up in London and along with some other guy they both penetrated her at the same time? Omar in the front, Ares in her anus. Wouldn't she hate him?
Who the fuck knew with these two? Maybe she'd love him more. She thought it was Omar's idea, that he had arranged that atrocity, and here she had run away with him. He shook his head. Maybe Mitch really did know what he was doing when it came to his crazy wife. Maybe he knew what she wanted.
Kate passed through to the service bay where customer’s cars were parked, in various st
ages of performance improvements. Her hands came up behind her head and she untied her hair and shook it loose, her hips swayed as she walked and Omar started paying attention. He saw her tuck her elbows into the baggy body of her striped top and her arms went into it and pushed it up over her head. She dropped the top onto a drill press as she walked between a Skyline and a black Maserati from the eighties. She traced a finger along the Italian roadster and he watched the soft skin of her back as her left hand came up between her shoulder blades and with little struggle she unhooked the snap of her bra. He could see her breasts drop free and swing from behind. Omar couldn't wait to feel those perfect soft womanly things, to watch them sway while he fucked her.
“What’s this one?” she asked as she turned to him, pointing over her shoulder at a 1965 Ferrari.
“You like that one?”
“Yeah,” she said and she unbuttoned her pants while she used her toes to pull her sneakers off by the heels. She peeled the pants down and stepped out of them. No panties.
“It's a sixty-five Ferrari 275. It's a real classic.”
“It looks expensive.”
“It is. Very,” he said, watching her. She stood there in his dirty garage that stank of oil and grease and men. She looked incredibly out of place. Her soft beautiful body, perfect feminine form. She stepped towards the Ferrari in her bare feet.
“One and a half million probably,” he said.
“Wow,” she said and she turned and sat on it very gently, her soft thighs and bottom flattening against it. “It’s probably pretty delicate too.” She had her hand between her legs, her fingers running through her thatch of hair. She spread them slightly for him. “You’re going to have to fuck me very gently on it then, aren’t you?”
*
Kate had listened to him talk about the car. She was paying attention, but she was watching his hands. His big fingers, his broad palms, the thick veins that crossed over the backs of them. They were big and strong and it turned her on. She liked watching them move over the things he was passionate about. She liked the shape of his body as he bent and showed her how things work. His wide back stretching his T-shirt, his narrow waist, his jeans clinging to his hips; it all brought out her badness. She felt it come but it was different now. The edge had been taken from it.
It was bad when she was with Mitch because she thought about other men, but when she was with Omar she didn’t think about other men. But wasn’t she still with Mitch? Isn’t this still bad? She pushed that thought away, couldn’t bear for a second to even think of Mitch.
So she took her clothes off and walked around naked in the garage, letting him see her woman flesh against all this hard, dirty metal and filth. Omar watched her as she put herself on the hood of this expensive car. She watched him smile at her, he embraced her badness. His hand was between his legs and he was handling himself, a fiendish grin below half-lidded eyes.
“The man who owns this is very dangerous, I think.”
“Is he?”
“I’m holding it here as a favour. For insurance. It’s not just money at stake, he might kill us if we cave the hood in.”
“Well, you better be very slow and delicate with me then, yeah?”
He came to her and she spread her legs wider so he could get close. He stood over her, then brushed her hair back, touched her chin, slowly moved in to touch his lips to hers.
It made her insides tingle, being naked on the hood of this car while he took control of her with his mouth, still fully clothed. He parted his lips and let them brush over hers, softly moving them over her cheek and then down her neck while she lifted her head and let him explore. He kissed her collar and her chest very lightly, coming back up the other side of her neck. She moaned unexpectedly, taking herself by surprise and she opened her eyes wide at her own sudden interruption. She looked into his eyes as his lips went back over hers and she put her hands up to his face to keep him from wandering again. He parted her lips with his tongue and she took it into her, teased him back with her own tongue, sucked him deeper into her.
His hands came to her bare waist and it made her gasp. His touch tickled her, she felt so sensitive. He kept his mouth on hers and they kissed a good long while, their heads very slowly twisting against one another while they softly explored each other with their tongues.
She put her palms on his thighs, moved them up higher. She found it with her right hand, hard, bulging out the fabric of his jeans. She carefully undid the button of his pants while they kissed, then undid the zipper. She slid his pants and his boxers down, pulled his bottom lip with her mouth as she broke away. His cock was hard, hanging down and out toward her. She reached out and held it, caressed it.
“Is he a gangster?”
“Honestly, I think he might be a terrorist.”
“He might behead us.”
“Probably.”
She leaned forward very careful, mindful of her weight on the car, and she put her mouth over him, her lips pushing his foreskin back. He was hard but not rigid, still filling up her mouth and forcing her wide to accept it. He didn’t push it ever, he’d always let her find her way around it when she went down on him. She cradled his balls, lifted them up and felt them settle in her cupped hand. She gently craned forward on him, forced him deeper into her mouth than she’d ever taken him. She felt her jaw open wide as it touched the back of her throat. She clenched her eyes shut and pushed further. She felt his glans stretch her throat out, felt her neck spread and that was all she could take. She knew he was too large to do this with but she was curious. Omar groaned and she felt his legs trembling. She pulled herself back and let his cock fall into her waiting hand, stroking him instantly. He was wet from her mouth and her hand slid on him easily. She was careful not to shift her weight on the Ferrari while she went up and down the end of him.
He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it away, stood over her naked. Her sexy French mechanic. He put butterflies in her stomach standing over her in his masculine domain. His v-shaped silhouette, the cars and tires, machinery and tools surrounding him. His big hands were his tools of trade, and they went to her shoulders and guided her back. She lay herself carefully on the hood, listening for any protest from the old Italian car. She lay there, felt the cold against her back, felt it hardening her nipples. Omar looked her over, admiring her and she spread her legs for him, exposed herself to him.
He lowered himself over her so that he was face to face with her. She thought he was going to kiss her, she prepared herself, but he just supported himself over her. She felt his manhood on her, felt its weight and its heat against her belly. It was the only thing touching her. She saw in his face what he wanted.
She was laying carefully on the hood, her weight spread out on it, mostly supported on her heels on the concrete floor. Omar’s only contact on the car his two big hands spread wide on either side of her over her shoulders. She took his cock in both her hands and she guided it between her legs. He lowered his hips and gently pushed himself into her with her help.
She moaned out, it felt so good. She wondered if she would ever get used to his size. She hoped not. There was something exciting, something electric every time he parted her, pried her open with that plump head, the pleasurable discomfort, the feel of its smooth surface, the foreskin peeling back off it as he pushed through.
She closed her eyes and gave every thought to the feeling between her legs, his hard cock, wet, pulsing, sinking deep inside her. The only contact with his body. When she opened her eyes she saw him staring into her watching her expression as he gave her pleasure.
Now he was pulling out, doing it as slowly as he had put it in. Her heart quickened, she didn’t know how long she could take this dreadfully slow pace. She fought back the urge to thrust against him, to lock her heels around the small of his back and force him deep and hard inside her. She forced patience on herself, she breathed slowly, tried pacing it with his gentle motion. She held his eyes, let him torture her with this. In he went
, slow, then dragged it back out again. She concentrated on that isolated contact. She could put her hands on his chest, claw at him, but she didn’t. Her heart pounded in her chest, she wanted to explode on him, to buck against him, grind against him. Fuck, this was her idea. Laying on this museum piece to tease him, force him to behave a way she didn’t even want.
Slowly in, slowly out again, she gasped as he went. They were barely moving, just his cock pushing in and pulling out. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and she put her hands over her breasts. She couldn’t help it anymore, she could go crazy if he didn’t fuck her, she squeezed on him, gripped him with her insides. She could sense him trembling now too, could feel that his arms were shaking. His mouth opened and he squinted his eyes as she played back with him. He lowered his face to hers and she put her mouth over his and searched for his tongue. Then he was away again, smiling, sinking into her even more slowly now.
“Oh, fuck, Omar,” she said.
“We have to be so careful,” he said.
“I know,” she said, looking in his eyes.
She kept her grip on him, let him do all the work as she lay flat on the hood. But she milked him with her muscles near her opening, squeezing and encouraging. He kept at it and she tried to remain calm, but eventually every time he pushed it into her she felt a tingle that went up her neck and across her scalp. She felt her heart pounding again. She'd lost what little control she’d managed until now. She felt like she might explode, or come apart at the seams. She was suddenly aware of her breaths, how they were coming in gasps.
“Please,” she whispered.
He was on the verge of losing his resolve to. She could see it in his face, tell from the sweat on his skin, his breaths. He dipped his head again, tempting her to kiss him. She fell for it, moving to pull his lips to hers but he pulled away just as he entered her a little more deeply this time.