And she knew it too. Her eyes widened and he heard her breath catch before the princess look returned and Mistress Jasmina was back in charge.
She gripped his wrist and brought his wet fingers to her mouth. With the flat of her tongue she licked her cream from his skin, sucking the tips into her mouth with gentle pulls. Once she was finished, she placed his hand on the arm of the chair. “You’ve pleased me, my pet. For that you shall be rewarded. Place your other hand on this arm. Keep your hands in place.”
With his arms caging her to the chair, it might have appeared as if she were in the weaker position, but the second she gripped the base of his cock, he was completely powerless in her hold. She swiped at the tip of his damp cock with her thumb then guided the head down to strum her clit.
“You’ve made me so wet and slippery. I want to feel you glide against my clit. Pump your hips. That’s it, fuck the lips of my pussy.”
He closed his eyes on a groan and plowed the length of his cock between the swollen folds of her sex. The woman was diabolical. All he had to do was pull back an inch and in a heartbeat he could be buried balls-deep inside her and hammering home until she screamed his name, his real name, to the sky. Just a tiny a fraction of an inch and he’d be in heaven. Or absolute hell.
What pleasures would Jasmina withhold if he got greedy? What worse forms of torture would she subject him to if he took what he desperately craved?
His fingers dug like claws into the leather and his jaw ached from clenching his teeth together. She hadn’t given him permission to come and he was ready to fire off like an AK-47 with a hair-trigger.
“That’s it, my pet.” She scored her nails down his chest and arms. “Keep this up and you’ll make me come again.”
Sweat burned his eyes and his nostrils flared with his harsh breathing as he watched her fingers tug at the collar of her shirt. The plump pillows of her breasts spilled out to lie like perfect mounds of whipped cream upon her chest. She pinched each rosy nipple until they stood to attention like gumdrops.
“I know how much you like my tits. Would you like a taste?”
“God, yes,” he thought he said. The words probably came out more like a grunt than anything intelligible.
“Put your mouth on me. Suck my nipples and make me come.”
He bent his head and drew one dusky peak deep into his mouth, lashing at the tip like he had her clitoris not minutes before. The harder he sucked, the more labored her breathing grew and the harder she ground her pussy against his shaft.
“Yes. Yes,” she panted and pulled his hair. “I’m coming. I’m coming. Come with me. Spray your cum all over me. Now.”
The force of his orgasm made his eyes cross and back arch as hot cum erupted out the swollen head of his dick, coating his Mistress in five days’ worth of milky fluid. Over and over he spurted until his limbs gave out and he fell back on his heels in a sweaty, heaving mess.
“No, no. Come back here.”
Somehow he found the strength to crawl back between her splayed thighs. She reached down and stroked his shaft, drawing forth another dribble of cum and a deep groan.
“Well done.” She smiled up at him like a pagan goddess of sex and sin with her breasts marked with his teeth, and legs splayed wide open, revealing her skin glistening with his seed. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her at that moment.
“Now, lick me clean.”
What?
Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?
“Mistress?”
“You heard me. Lick me clean. I allowed you to spray your cum all over me. Now lick it up. Every drop. I think you even got some on the chair. All of it must be cleaned up.”
Lick his own cum? Was she insane?
Judging by her fierce stare and the firm set of her jaw, the answer was no.
“Are you disobeying my orders, Rookie?”
“No, Mistress.” He swallowed hard. Holy hell. Was he really going to do this?
Think about something else. Imagine it’s jam.
He lowered his head and laid the flat of his tongue against the curve of her breast near the smallest droplet.
At first he tasted nothing but the salt of her skin.
This is good. I can do this.
He followed the trail down her sternum to the pool around her navel. He held his breath and dove in.
The sweet aftertaste that lingered on his tongue was unexpected. Almost citrusy like…pineapple.
The little minx. She had this planned the entire time. At least she made the effort to make the experience enjoyable. With his apprehension over the taste and texture of his own semen alleviated, he lapped at her skin with renewed enthusiasm. And God almighty, did he come a lot.
It was so depraved, so debauched. He should be awash with humiliation, burn with the shame of engaging in such a perverse act, but instead he felt such a sense of freedom, he was lightheaded with the high.
“Good boy.” Jasmina wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him tight. “You’re coming along just fine.”
Chapter Eight
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Marco strolled into the war room and set the tray of coffees on the center of the table. “Italian roast and doughnuts for your morning’s pleasure.”
Coulter’s pen fell from his hand. “Who are you and where’s my captain?”
“Stuff it, Coulter,” Marquez said and reached for a cup. “He brought the good stuff and it’s free. Thanks, Cap.”
The rest of his team murmured their thanks as Marco took his seat near the head of the table.
“That must have been some date last night.”
“Date?” Peters asked around a mouthful of maple bar. “Are you getting some action, Cap? My wife will want to know all about her.”
Santiago raised his hand. “Does she have a single friend?”
“Can’t a guy bring in coffee because he likes the people he works with? If you’re going to be dicks about it, I’m not gonna do it again, so drink up.” Marco clapped his hands together. “Santiago, what have we got?”
“Two of the contacts on Konkle’s phone are brothers, Alfonso and Hector Tabateri.” He brought up a copy of their driver’s licenses on his laptop to display from the projector shining against the white wall. “They’ve been linked to several massage parlors that were suspected fronts for prostitution. Lately they’ve been specializing in mobile services where the girls come to you.”
“Who are the girls?” Marco asked, making notes for future questions.
“According to L&I reports, there are eight employees. All women with Anglo–Saxon-sounding names. Yet the permanent establishments employ predominantly Asian women, many of whom are not legal. Services can only be booked for the mobile services via their website. Peters has more details about the website.”
Peters wiped a napkin across his lips and took over the keyboard. “It appears as if the brothers are tracking IP addresses of those who search the site and request bookings. If we try to book an appointment with one of our computers, they’ll say no one is available. In fact one website completely shut down after we clicked on some of the links. If we want to set up a sting, we can’t use department resources or those suspected to be department resources.”
“Marquez, get on setting up computers not bought with city money,” Marco directed. “What else?”
As Santiago recited the details of the next contact on Konkle’s phone, Marco’s cell vibrated near his elbow. He glanced at the screen then sucked in a breath. A text from Jasmina. After a quick glance around the room, he pulled up the message.
Drink a glass of pineapple juice before our next meeting. I’m hungry.
Hot damn. Was she planning on sucking his cock until he came down her throat? Sweet Jesus, he sure hoped so.
If he had his way, he’d be the one in the chair with Jasmina kneeling between his legs. Her lips would be painted a dark red and stretched around his dick as she slurped to her heart’s delight. Or maybe sh
e’d tie him to the table again, working him over and over until he sprayed like a geyser all over his belly and she was the one to lick him clean. Man, that would be awesome.
“Captain.”
Or maybe she’d be the one sitting in the chair and she’d have him stand before her, his knees quaking as she tormented him with the edges of her teeth. His Mistress was quite clever with ways to make him shake.
“Captain.”
What if she—
“Marco!”
“What?” He started and saw his men staring at them with identical frowns on their faces. “Was there a question?”
Coulter looked to the phone in Marco’s hand and then down at the bulge straining his zipper. “Not anymore.”
The rest of the men snickered around their doughnuts.
“Continue.” He waved at Santiago.
“Are you sure? I can wait if there’s a…pressing situation. I don’t want to make things harder on you.”
“Continue,” he said through clenched teeth. “Please.”
Santiago snorted back more laughter and jiggled the pointer that was on a photo of a man displayed on the screen. “As I was saying, this man, Rosetti, did you hear what I said about him?”
Not a word. “Yeah, yeah.”
“He’s a dealer that was released on probation two weeks ago and hasn’t checked in yet. He’s been known to stay in dive motels in Dunlap and Cedar. The casino out there was his territory.”
“Are drugs his game or does—damn it.” The phone he forgot he was still holding vibrated in his hand and about made him jump out of his skin when it vibrated. This time it wasn’t a sexy text from his Mistress but an incoming call from Dispatch. He picked it up immediately, snapping his fingers to alert the others a call to action may be imminent. “DeWinter.”
Yep. A routine traffic stop had turned into a drug seizure. As he took notes he gestured to his men to pack it in and standby for assignments.
“We’re on our way.” He stood and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Unexpected drug seizure. Coulter and I will check it out. Marquez, get on securing a plant for the massage parlors. Santiago, alert Briggs out in Cedar that she may have a freshly paroled dealer in her neighborhood. Let’s plan on meeting back around two.”
The trip down to the parking garage was made in silence as Marco created a mental checklist of things to be aware of when they arrived on the scene. Smithwick wasn’t the only distributor in town and he knew it was foolish to be too quick to add this incident to the list of the man’s crimes and miss identifying a new player.
The second the car door shut them inside the SUV, Coulter started in on him. “Who is she? And don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. You’re seeing a woman. Or a guy. Is that it? You’re gay and never told me?”
“What?” Jesus. Talk about going from zero to sixty in a nanosecond. “I’m not gay. I am…seeing someone, but it’s new and none of your business.”
“I disagree. If she’s causing you to lose focus, then it does affect me and the team.”
“Get your panties outta your ass, Coulter. I’m completely focused on my work and you of all people know that.”
“Do I? We’ve been working our asses off for the last three years and then right when we’re on the cusp of closing this case, you’ve got a new girlfriend. One you won’t say a thing about, and you’ve never been this tight-lipped before. Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious? How do you know this girl isn’t one of Smithwick’s operatives to get you off his trail?”
The idea made him snort so hard with laughter he hurt his sinuses. “Believe me, she’s not an operative. Look, I have never been more determined to see Smithwick caught than I am now. And I am not distracted. I have my reasons for keeping quiet, so let it be. We have job to do now, so let’s go.”
Coulter snapped forward in his seat and gunned the engine. “Yes, sir.”
Damn it all to hell. Despite their status within the department, Coulter was the closest person Marco had to a friend. All of his men were tight, but Coulter was like a little brother. And his lieutenant was right. Never before had Marco withheld information about a lady friend. While he wasn’t the kind to fuck and tell, he also never deliberately refused to share the tiniest tidbit about a woman who managed to turn his head away from his badge for any length of time.
Was that wrong? Sure, men didn’t share details of their lives like women did with each other, but there was always locker room banter, and even that much his relationship with Jasmina forbade him to have. And he wasn’t holding back because he didn’t think Coulter wouldn’t understand. Of all people Coulter would probably be the only one to not blink an eye at the arrangement he had with Mistress Jasmina. Well, he might quirk an eyebrow, but Coulter had been to The Cavern. He knew what went on within those walls. Whether he was a Dom or a sub Marco wasn’t certain, but at least the man had an idea that there was more to sex than the missionary position.
Marco glanced at the younger man to his side and felt the urge to spill the truth tickle his lips. What would he say? I’ve met this amazing woman who’s smart, sexy and can make me come like a rocket. But it’s more or less a business arrangement. I’ve signed a contract that she can do whatever she wants to me for the next three months. After that, who knows?
And there was the rub. Jasmina wasn’t his girlfriend. What they had was more or less a business arrangement. And he didn’t want it to be business. At least he didn’t think he did. He wanted to talk to her like a man and not a submissive. He wanted to talk about her to his friends and not think twice about if that was appropriate. He wanted to be with her out in the sun and see if her hair was really as dark as it appeared. He wanted to wake up next to her in the morning and kiss her awake.
He wanted to kiss her. Period.
On the lips. Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. He wanted to hold her to his chest and feel her melt against him.
Maybe Coulter was right and he was allowing his arrangement with Jasmina to distract him, but he wasn’t going to quit her. No way. She was making good on all of her promises and he’d never felt physically better or more relaxed in his life.
A shift in strategy was in order. A realignment in priorities. Smithwick was first, followed by family. His time with Jasmina was ranking right up there. When the three months were over and Smithwick was firmly behind bars, perhaps it would be time to take his relationship with Jasmina to the next level.
He bit back a smile as he imagined how she would react when he asked her out for dinner and a movie.
* * * * *
Jasmine adjusted the plum-colored bodice of her corset and blew out a slow stream of air from her pursed lips. The dressing room she shared with the other Dominatrixes at the club was empty, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the sexy tunes of Paolo Nutini playing on the sound system. The feel of the satin against her palms made her nipples tight and her pussy wet, well that and the knowledge that she was going to fuck her handsome captain that night. She was so hyped up that the simple act of applying lipstick had her ready to orgasm.
Why was that? Marco wasn’t the most submissive or outrageous lover she ever had. He wasn’t the most difficult either. But she did love his expressions when he was presented with the new and unusual. His Adam’s apple was so cute as it bobbed in his throat, and the way his eyes danced as he worked out whether or not to comply with her orders always made her want to smile.
When she had demanded he lick his cum from her skin, she thought he’d bail. Most men assumed that the biggest tests their Masters made them face were ones of pain and physical endurance when actuality it was those of the mind that were the most difficult to pass. Those invisible lines men didn’t know they drew in the sand until made to cross them fascinated her. One second they dared you to come at them with a paddle but then turned into total prudes the moment you asked them to taste their own cum.
Not Marco. After a moment of hesitation, he took to the task with great enthus
iasm and drive. There was no doubt he had intended to give her the best orgasm of her life. And he succeeded.
“Get your head out of the clouds, Jaz,” she told her reflection. “The be-all and end-all of men is not Marco DeWinter.”
She wasn’t a teenager with dreams of happily ever after. Happy for now was more her speed. Success at her job, a man to play with, that was all she needed. To want for anything more was just being greedy, not to mention exhausting.
With a last look at her backside to ensure the lines of her skirt fell to her liking, she left the dressing room and made her way to the common areas of The Cavern. The place was like a second home to her, actually more like her first home. She didn’t have to hide her naughty side, pretend she was an asexual or submissive creature like she did in all other areas of her life.
The other patrons she passed in the hall nodded in greeting or murmured hellos. Here she was respected for just being herself, and the freedom was a natural high.
The door to her dungeon was closed, but she knew Marco waited on the other side. Jax reported his arrival fifteen minutes before their scheduled appointment. Either the captain was anxious or he wanted more time to explore her lair to gain knowledge. She suspected the answer was both.
Marco was naked and waiting on his knees as she entered. So far he was responding well with his training and turning into an excellent sub. Again she wondered what it was about him that made her temperature spike and her fingers curl in anticipation of sinking her claws into his flesh. Sure, he was handsome, but if one went purely by physical attributes, Army carried more muscle and pretty-boy charm than Marco.
No, Marco’s appeal was that he was a wild card. Devil-may-care on the outside, brooding and intense on the inside. He had the ability to distract you with a charming smile or anecdote while rifling through your personal history at the same time. Good thing he was one of the good guys.
Only at The Cavern Page 12