Uniform Fetish

by 10 Author Anthology

  Damien pulled her head back to his and took over. True to his word, the kiss was hard and rough, urgent and relentless. He held her up like she weighed no more than a shoulder harness, which he had shed as soon as they entered his home. A pair of warm hands cupped her butt, holding her high up his body and locked against him. Before she could say "giddy-up" they were on the move.

  Connie stole a breath and asked, "Are you taking me to bed?"

  "Too far away. I'm taking you to the wall first."

  "Oh," she said between a series of feather-light kisses on his bristly cheek and neck. "Carry on then."

  And whump! There she was, flat against his living room wall. He held her there with the pressure from his torso and the grip of her legs, leaving his hands free to tug her blouse out of her skirt's waistband. One by one he undid the buttons on her blouse while his mouth ravaged hers. She moaned as his kiss hijacked her mind and unloosed her more primitive self.

  Damien groaned and moved his lips along the line of her jaw, beneath her ear and down to her neck. His fingers finally released the last button from its hole and spread open the front of her blouse to reveal her plain white bra. Her fears about her undergarments' lack of sex appeal were short-lived. A quick flick of his fingers and he unhooked her bra and slid it and her blouse off.

  "God, you are so beautiful," he murmured before lifting her higher up the wall to bring her breasts closer to his mouth. He latched on to one nipple and sucked.

  The tug and pull of his lips shot sparks of desire straight to her clit. Tingles crawled over her scalp. Like a conductor, Damien wove his baton and brought every part of her body in tune to the music of his lovemaking.

  She rotated her head side to side moaning, "Yes, oh, yes, that feels so good!" Her bones melted, and she marveled how he could keep holding her up without her slowly oozing to the floor at his feet.

  Damien switched his attentions to her other breast, sucking in the dusky nipple between his lips and swiping his over and around the tip. "Your breasts are perfect." He proceeded to lave them with his tongue, carefully licking the valley between them. "You're perfect."

  When his hand brushed over her mound, she startled. The attention he'd been giving her breasts had distracted her from the progress he'd been making under her skirt. The delicate grazing became more deliberate, more purposeful. First one side, then the other, he seesawed her panties off her hips. She waited for him to lower her to the floor so she could work them the rest of the way down and off her body, but the movement never came. Instead, he fisted the silky cloth at the sides, breaking the elastic and then ripping the seam open. He didn't bother with the other side. He didn't need to. Skin met skin as first his palm molded to and cupped her pubic bone.

  And then he curled his fingers and found her opening. A rush of wet heat met them.

  "Oh baby, you're so fucking wet for me. You gonna give me a bath? Hmm? You don't know how hot it is to find such a nice welcome mat, such a sweet little pussy." He said more, but his words were garbled to her ears. Between the steady rush and pounding of her heartbeat, Damien's face nuzzled between her breasts, and the throbbing between her legs, nothing else made sense.

  Connie's eyes clamped shut, and she relaxed into the man overpowering her senses. She remembered their first time together, but it was nothing like this. He might have jokingly warned her about being hasty and rough, but he wasn't. That had been a better description of their first time, wild and reckless and yes, spurred on by drunken excess. But this, this man, what he was doing to her was an exquisite but well-planned assault. Every touch lit a spark at the point of contact. The fingers curled inside her pussy stretched far enough to find her sweet spot. When he began to circle the tip of his finger there, she shuddered.

  "Everything ok there?" He smiled against her mouth before nipping her fleshy bottom lip with his teeth. All she could do was nod. There were no words. None. "That's good because you taste good enough to eat. All sweet and soft. You're like honey. Up here and down there. Which is sweeter? Hmm?"

  Excitement zinged through her. Her breath increased. The throbbing in her pussy turned into a dull ache. Her juices perfumed the air. The sounds of his fingers shuttling through her slickness rose to her ears. When his thumb found her clit, she jerked in his arms like a bolt of electricity had struck her. She was close to falling apart.

  "You're about to come, aren't you?"

  "I..."

  "You are. I can tell. You know how?" he whispered.

  "How?" The word was more air than voice. She didn't have the strength to use her vocal chords.

  "I can feel your walls starting to contract around my fingers. Not a lot. It's like the warm-up for the main attraction." He circled his thumb pad lightly against the skin covering her clit. "See, right about now, is the make or break moment with a woman. You're either three seconds away from coming or you'll ebb and build up again. Three ... two ..." Connie's world spiraled into a singular point centered between her legs currently being massaged into giving her up into the pleasure void. "One."

  Her world rocked left, then right, before tipping and falling into the sun in a glory of red, orange, and yellow flames. She tensed as her orgasm rocketed through her. Her head thrown back, her mouth locked open but nothing came out. No words, no sounds. Just the silent scream of ecstasy at the peak that gave way to a long, throaty moan. Her entire body shuddered from the ferocity of her release.

  "That's right. Let it all go, sweetheart. Give it up to me. I'll keep it safe and sound." Damien's lips were at her neck, his words gradually becoming more coherent as her mind and body reunited. "Shhh, sh-sh-sh, that's right. Oh yeah. That's my sweet girl."

  Her laugh began in her belly, swirling around in a sea of muscular contractions. By the time it emerged, she had thrown back her head, slamming it a little too hard into the wall. "Ow!"

  Damien laughed, too. He rubbed the sore spot on the back of her head. "Easy there, baby. We still got a long way to go."

  The cool air rushed in between her legs occupying the space where his hand had been. She missed it, missed the warmth, the caress, the skillful dance of his fingers inside her and out. "Ahhh," she cried out.

  "I think you liked that."

  "I think you're very good with your hands."

  He loosened his hold on her and let her drift in a controlled descent back to her feet. "I'm good with other things, too."

  "So am I."

  "I remember."

  As if a starter's gun went off, they sprang into action. Between the two of them, they lifted, jerked and pulled up, down and away, his t-shirt, the one legged scrap of her panties, his pants, her skirt and his boxer-briefs until they stood toe to toe wearing nothing more than their watches and a matching pair of shit-eating grins.

  Damien reached out and pulled her snugly against him. The hairs on his chest tickled, and he definitely had his skin gun drawn. Her ass cupped in each of his hands, he guided her backwards. She had no fear of tripping. One room gave way to another until they were in his bedroom. Dark neutral colors of chocolate brown, charcoal, and black exuded as much testosterone as the naked man holding her. Connie liked being the most feminine object in the room, and enjoyed the stark contrast to her own bedroom with its butter yellow and lavender tones.

  When her thighs made contact with the bed, she allowed herself to fall backward. Laughing, she pulled Damien down on top of her. He wasted no time going to town nuzzling in close—breathing her in, kissing and tasting her lips and neck. And when he finished there, he imprisoned each of her wrists and drew them over her head to feast on the delicate flesh of her upper arms and neck before dropping lower.

  "I think this is one of my favorite places in the world," he said looking up at her from between her breasts.

  Connie reached down to run her fingers through his blue-black hair, mussed and sexy from their earlier disrobing sprint. The longer curls in front slipped through her fingers like ebony corn silk. Her Greek warrior made her breath hitch. Rugged an
d battle-worn, he wasn't classically beautiful, but his allure lay in how deeply and indisputably male he was. His nose boasted an odd dip and flair, the souvenir of a pugilistic childhood, he'd once told her. As on his knuckles, silvery white scars tracked across his chin, above one eyebrow and at his hairline. But what always got to her, jellified her insides and never failed to send wet heat to her sex, were his eyes, as blue as the Aegean Sea near his ancestral home of Crete.

  Damien moved lower, wedging her thighs open wider with his shoulders. She glanced down to realize he'd dropped to his knees on the floor. He grasped each of her thighs, drew them over his shoulders and pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. She lay open to him, and rather than dive in, he paused to gaze at her.

  "Maybe this is my favorite place, too." The roughness of his voice reached inside her and squeezed. He buried his face in her sex and with his lips and tongue, feasted on her honey.

  "I don't want to come again without you," she said in a rush between quickened breaths. Oh she loved receiving oral as much as the next woman and Damien seemed to enjoy giving it, but she craved greater intimacy, needed to feel his whole body rubbing against hers, hold his face between her hands and watch those earnest blue eyes as he fell apart. She needed to feel the strength of her power over him and her ability to give as well as she received. "Come up here with me."

  The speed at which he moved made her smile. Even the mightiest of warriors had their breaking points. Damien scrambled first to his nightstand to get a condom and then into the center of the bed. After sheathing his thick and ready cock he crooked his finger for her to join him. "Come here, little girl," he said with a growl.

  Giggling, she moved next to him and commanded, "Ravish me now, Spiros!"

  He pounced, covering her entire body with his. She wriggled beneath him to get her legs opened wider so she could wrap them around him. The change in position brought his cock like a heat-seeking missile to her entrance. He hooked his arms beneath and over her shoulders, holding her still for a searing kiss. As their tongues slid together, he pushed slowly inside. "Aw fuuuck, you feel so good. Baby, you have no idea how hard it is not to pound into your sweet, tight pussy."

  "Pretty hard from the feel of it," she teased.

  "Minx. You'll pay for that." He pulled back and thrust deeper into her.

  "Much better."

  Damien thrust again, bringing his pelvis to hers and seating himself snugly in the cradle of her hips. The move ripped a moan from Connie. She found the hard muscular flesh of his ass and urged him to pick up the pace. "Harder," she said hoarsely.

  "Fuck yeah." Their bodies came together violently but for the slick glide of his cock inside her channel. His pumping accelerated, and the movements created a delicious friction against her clit. She fell into the sensations, mouth parted. The scent of their lovemaking filled the room and her nose. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt the quickened thrum of his where their torsos pressed together. The vibrations mingled with Damien's rhythmic vocalizations as he fucked her into incoherency. The edge neared, and just as ruthlessly as he was taking her, he spared no mercy at shoving her over the edge into the abyss of absolute bliss.

  She cried out his name as she fell and fell and fell, riding the wave of her climax to the accompaniment of his grunts and groans.

  And then when she finally bottomed out, she forced her eyes open to see his face hovering over hers. He'd levered himself up on his arms, but his eyes belonged to her. She reached up to place a palm on each of his cheeks, bucking her hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. The exact moment he found his release, she watched those cerulean eyes glaze over and his facial muscles lock in a grimace that looked as frightening as it did beautiful as he lost his last shreds of control and poured himself into her.

  Later, after he rolled off and his heavy breathing slowed, he rose up on one elbow and locked gazes with her. "Tomorrow, I'm going to kick the living shit out of that weasel you share an office with."

  "Nate? Why?"

  "Because he's the reason you haven't been in my bed every night for the past six weeks."

  "Oh. Well, maybe I'll slip in a kick myself. Between his poisoning of my mind against you and his constantly kicking my Ethernet cable out of its jack, he's definitely not my favorite person."

  "Hmm." Damien stroked the back of his finger gently down her side.

  A long silence followed. They held hands in the stillness.

  Damien lay on his back and played with her fingers. "He told me you two were dating. I never poach in another man's territory."

  "I'm not big game or a patch of grass to piss on to mark as your property, Damien."

  He rolled his head her way to grin at her, "I know that, but does he? I don't think I'll kick the shit out of him. I have something better planned."

  Connie frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Just a hunch. I'll check it out tomorrow. In the meantime..."

  Chapter Five

  "You have the right to remain silent—"

  "It wasn't me! It was Connie!" Nate shouted as Menendez and another uniformed NCIS agent shoved him forward and down the hallway.

  Connie's gaze swiveled from the backs of the departing men to Damien, who had parked his butt on the edge of her desk. She'd gone to the restroom and only caught the final moments of the takedown of her office-mate.

  Eyes wide and mouth agape, she walked to stand in front of Damien. "You arrested Nate?"

  Her lover of the past two weeks placed a warm hand on the side of her waist, drawing her closer. "When you said he'd been messing with your Ethernet cable it occurred to me that the port address, though assigned to you, might have been hacked by someone with access to it."

  "Nate?"

  "Exactly."

  "It had nothing to do with the business card on your computer screen I accidentally captured in my photograph of you?"

  "Not that we know of. I had that card on my screen because at the time I'd been investigating the break-in of the General’s home. The timing would have been before we discovered the hacking of his work computer."

  "But why? What was Nate up to?"

  "He accessed the General's computer, probably using a device plugged into your port. We think Nate was selling stolen intel. After we figure out where several unusual deposits to his bank account came from we'll be a lot closer to learning the who and the why. Fortunately, he hadn't yet succeeded in accessing the most sensitive data."

  Connie shook her head. "I wondered the first time I caught him futzing around with our cables and jacks under his desk."

  "Maybe setting you up was his backup plan."

  "Nate drove a wedge between us—"

  "Probably to keep you isolated or under his control in case he needed to frame you."

  Realization dawned on her. "Nate's the hacker. He's a spy. Wow! Those deposits ... he did it for the money? I thought Daddy bankrolled him, bought him that fancy new Mercedes."

  Damien smirked. "Daddy cut off his boy wonder three years ago. Where you been, Connie? Don't you read the papers? Tsk, tsk, I expected better of you than that."

  "Are you ragging on me again? Because if you are, I think it's only fair to point out that I know a particular spot on a certain man's body where he's very, very ticklish."

  A lopsided grin slid onto Damien's face. "You wouldn't take advantage of a guy's Achilles heel would you?"

  Connie reached down and gently cupped the contours of his groin. "Oh I most definitely would, and with the greatest of pleasure."

  The End

  www.lilashaw.com

  A PASSIONATE WITNESS

  Moira Callahan

  Copyright © 2015

  Prologue

  Her heart was racing. Her breaths were short, sharp gasps. Everything inside of her was screaming for her to run.

  Pressing a hand to her mouth she tried desperately to slow her breathing. She didn’t want to be found. God only knew what would happen if she was. This was so like her luck, wrong f
ucking place at the wrong fucking time.

  She should have waited instead of getting out of her car. Someone would have come along eventually. At least she wouldn’t be witnessing this nightmare. If she didn’t know for a fact they’d spot her she’d make a run for it. But she could see the guns the men had in hand, and no way was she going to manage to outrun a bullet.

  The loud sound of fist meeting flesh had her flinching and squeezing her eyes closed. Over and over again the sound came as one man beat another bloody. Stifling the whimper that begged to be freed, Maggie pressed her hand harder to her mouth.

  A sound she’d hoped to only ever hear in the movies reached her. The cocking of a gun. Her eyes flew open, wide open, and she stared at a man in a suit. He was standing where the man with the furious fists had been moments before. His gun was pointed directly at the bleeding man’s head.

  “You should never have betrayed me, Jimmy,” he said.

  The bleeding man made some sound, maybe a plea, made something else. She couldn’t hear what it was.

  The man with the gun gave a chilling smile. “Yeah, I figured you felt like that.”

  The gunshot had her jerking back in surprise, fear, and complete horror. Stuffing her fist to her mouth she held at bay the screams rising in her throat. The bleeding man slumped down, and the guys on either side released the arms they’d been holding during the beating. He fell face first down onto the concrete, unmoving.

  The man in the suit passed his gun off. “Make sure he can’t be identified.”

  “Of course, Mr. Sorvino,” someone said to him.

  The man in the suit, Sorvino, brushed his hands together like he was dusting them free of dirt. “Benny, get Gio on the phone for me once we’re on the move. We need to let him know about this development.”

  “Right away, Mr. Sorvino.”

  Eight men out of the ten, including Sorvino, turned and headed away from her. Two remained on either side of the body. Both stared down at the body with clear disdain on their faces.