by Dee Dawning
Drew chuckled a little. "Okay. What's your pleasure?"
"I want you to take me to nirvana, like you did at JoJo's."
"As you wish milady." Drew receded down the bed and hovered over her pubis. Parting her legs, then her moist folds, he paused five seconds seemingly in admiration of her waxed, fully visible pussy. He smiled and took a deep breath absorbing an aromatic whiff of it before his ardent tongue dove into her treasure trove.
Instantly, flashing back to her sexy encounter at JoJo's, Mallory moved each of her legs so her feet joined in the middle of his back and flattened her legs horizontally. That opened up her overheated pussy for maximum access of Drew's prodigious busy tongue. His tongue darted in and out of her privates, alternating between her ultra-sensitive clit and her crème-filled recess of femininity.
Drew reached around her legs, up to her breasts and fondled her nipples. For the second time that evening, Mallory flipped out of control from scorching oral sex. Her arms and torso seemed in constant motion, making it difficult for Drew to keep his mouth on her bud.
With his arms pinning her thighs, he utilized his fingers to spread her wet folds, delving his tongue even deeper into the depths of her chamber. Mallory was on the road to orgasmic bliss. Tension built up her slender body and her limbs stiffened.
Gradually, waves of pleasure descended upon her. Building in her loins, spreading outward, it kept increasing in intensity, overpowering her.
"Oh God, I'm coming!" Mallory reached down and clutched the sides Drew's head. She pushed her greedy pussy hard into his face, screaming for release.
~* *~
Mallory was so beautiful, so sexy, even fully dressed she aroused him and having her like that, made him want to ravish her. But he maintained. Besides, he could get into trouble if he fucked her. Mallory's pleasure was foremost and any pleasure he derived would be peripheral and obtained from giving pleasure to that woman—the woman he was going to make fall in love with him.
Drew thought of the sighs and moans, as a sexual symphony and he was the conductor. Ultimately, the increasing sensations erupted into a slow developing orgasm, so great, so extensive, that he felt her body clench tightly in the throes of her fervor while she screamed and cried, yelling various indelicacies.
After she calmed, he asked, "What would you like now? Anything. I'm at your command."
Still catching her breath, she whispered, "I want to feel you inside me. I've wanted that since JoJo's. I was just too embarrassed to ask for it. Plus, I didn't know you."
Do I dare put my cock inside her? With a condom, no one should be able to tell. He laughed. "Do you know me now?"
"No. I know this though. No one has ever made me feel as alive as you do."
Drew scooted her back toward the headboard. Rolling a condom on his shaft, he gently spread her legs for the third time that night.
His lips touched hers and began a long adoring kiss while she inserted his cock into her hot, waiting pussy. "Ummmm, I can taste myself on your tongue."
Even after her stupendous orgasm his larger than average member didn't go in easily. He had to work at it, but with each successive stroke, he was able to inch his way further and further into her heavenly cavern. Finally, all of him was buried into her up to his hilt.
"Mmmmm! Oh yes, that's what I want. Ooh, Drew that feels so good, I could do this forever."
When Drew was fully inside her, her love juices began flowing, allowing smooth gliding strokes. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in with each thrust of his cock, grabbed his ass and squeezed with authority. Occasionally, in a loud breathy whisper, Mallory would encourage her lover on. "Oh Drew, I love the way you make love to me. This is what I wanted. Fuck me good…fuck me hard. Give me more of your monster cock."
He didn't get a chance to answer. Mallory grabbed his face once more, while he thrust his throbbing cock hard into her pussy, she kissed him and wouldn't let go. She seemed to love the intense in and out motion of his cock with his balls banging against her bottom.
With each stroke she gasped. "Mmmm, your naked body feels wonderful against me," she half said, half groaned. With each successive stroke, she jerked upward slightly, but she wouldn't let go, and managed to hold the lingering, luscious, tongue-embracing kiss for minutes.
~* *~
Ummm, She thought, I love the way he kisses, with his tongue invading my mouth the way it had my pussy. What's more, I love the touch of his hands on my breasts as he strokes me. Mmmm, this is scrumptious, I never want to stop!
They made love for almost an hour. Situated a few feet away and in a ideal location, her full-length dressing mirror allowed them voyeuristic peeks at their naked reflection while in the throes of passion. They tried every coital position they could think of, from missionary to Hollywood style, she, with multiple climaxes, before collapsing and falling asleep from exhaustion.
Chapter Five
Mallory's eyes abruptly opened wide. A glance at her alarm clock told her it was 3:47 a.m.. She'd been enjoying an erotic dream, a replay actually, of the oral episode with Drew at JoJo's. He'd been dining on her pussy with abandon and she'd been going out of her mind, when he suddenly handed her an object wrapped in a handkerchief.
Without missing a beat, he said in a voice that was muffled by her sex, "Can you hold on to this for me."
She took the object, un-wrapped it and screamed bloody murder. The object within was a severed finger.
Mallory looked over at the sleeping man and recalled their conversation with him at JoJo's. Actually, I believe I have two advantages over you. First, I know all about you, and second, you smiled. Where would you like to do it? I know all about you. He does know all about me! Sure, who doesn't know? You're Mallory Robbins, How does he know all about me? an up and coming movie star, super model and one of LA's most beautiful people.
Why does he know about me? The woman with the most beautifully shaped legs in the world. He knows all about me, but I know nothing of him, except he's a fabulous lover. So beautiful they are photographed even more than your stunning face. Who is Drew? So beautiful that your Agency has recently insured your legs for ten million dollars. Who is my dream-lover? That's why newspapers and others have begun calling you Legs.
Suddenly, Mallory was troubled. Surreptitiously, she snuck out of bed, making sure not to disturb the now-suspicious character who, three hours ago, had made her feel on top of the world. Quietly, she snatched his pants and sports coat, then crept into the living room. Shutting the door behind her, she turned on the light.
Leafing through his wallet, she found a California driver's license with the name Drew Stevens and a photo ID of her one night stand super stud. On top of a half dozen credit cards, he had about a half dozen business cards—Stevens Investigations and a couple of hundred dollars. Hmmm, Stevens Investigations. That kind of explains the how, but it doesn't explain the why?
In addition to a wallet, Drew had some keys and about a buck in change. When she picked up the coat by itself, she noticed it was heavy on the right side. She reached in and felt a cool object. Mallory removed the object and was shocked that it was a gun. She needed some answers. Then she also found a pair of nylon flex-cuffs in the breast pocket of his coat, which gave her an idea.
~* *~
Drew awoke from a splash of cool water across his face. "What the f—" The lights came on, temporarily blinding him. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't. Realizing his left arm had been fastened to the headboard, fear crept into his psyche. He desperately tried to remember where he was. He grabbed the sheet to wipe the wetness from his eyes and face with his free hand and strained to remember. Where am I?
Slowly his eyes became accustomed to the bright light and he perceived a vision of beauty. He relaxed. It was Mallory. Then he stiffened. She was holding his Walther P99 on him. "Mallory, what are you doing?"
Her nostrils flared. "Nothing. We are going to have a little chat. A question and answer session. You just burst into my life, claim you kno
w all about me, seduced me and I realized I know nothing of you."
Sweat mingled with the water Mallory had thrown on him. "Of course, but why handcuff me? And why hold my gun on me?"
"Because you have it, that's why. You come into my house and make wonderful love to me, but you bring a gun and handcuffs. It makes me wonder."
"Mallory, Mallory. I would never hurt you. You are bright, caring, articulate and funny, certainly, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, let alone slept with. I adore you!" The fingers of his free hand combed through his damp hair. "I'm here to protect you."
Disbelief flashed in her baby blues. "Is that right? Go on, I'm listening."
"I will. I'll explain everything, but first put down the gun and release me."
"No, I'm afraid I'm not ready to do that just yet. You have to be more convincing than that."
Staring past her, his eyes grew large and round. "Look out! Behind you!"
"Humph! I'm not going to fall for that old li—"
~* *~
Abruptly, an arm wrapped around her waist and another arm reached for the gun. Barefooted, she stomped on her attacker's foot and he let go. "Oww! Fuck, you bitch!"
Drew yelled. "Behind you baby!" She tried to turn around, but another pair of hands grabbed her roughly and held her tight as the original attacker held a chemically treated rag over her nose and mouth, while the gun was stripped from her hand. Through a foggy haze, Mallory saw the gun raise and train on the struggling Drew. The gun fired as she slipped from consciousness.
Chapter Six
Mallory woke with a killer headache and no idea where she was. She remembered nothing and had no idea how she got here. She was in a bed, in a bedroom furnished in a Middle Eastern motif.
Glancing in the dresser mirror, she almost fainted. Her waist long, blonde hair was trussed up, mostly covered by an ivory scarf and a matching veil stretched across her nose and mouth. Rising on unsteady legs, she saw she'd been fully covered by an ivory shawl. Mallory was terrified. She was dressed as an Muslim woman of means.
~* *~
Sergeant Richard Carboni walked up to the desk of his friend and partner, detective John Goodwin. "We've got a hot VIP case in Westwood."
"But it's Grommen and Samuels's case next."
"I know. Consider it a compliment. Captain said the Chief wants his top team on this one. Top model/movie starlet, Mallory Robbins, is missing from her home after gunshots were heard about four a.m.."
"Sounds ominous. Let's go!"
"You always were a sucker for the pretty girls, Goodwin."
"You want to see a sap for pretty girls, Carboni, look in the mirror."
~* *~
As Mallory walked to the window and reached for the drape, a woman entered the room dressed as she, but in burgundy. The woman let her veil down revealing her face. She spoke excellent English, "I am Morina, daughter of Ali by his second wife, Sylema. I am in charge of our master's concubines. Your unequaled beauty has elevated you above the rest of the concubines. You shall have the honor of becoming Ali's fourth wife."
A chill passed through Mallory. She felt perspiration on her forehead and her cheeks flushed hot. She had progressed from alarmed to horrified. She was in code red. There was no higher. "I will not be anyone's wife." Anger filled her. "You have kidnapped me. I am a U.S. citizen. I demand to be returned to America forthwith."
Before the woman could respond, Mallory dashed past her and through the door, which she'd left open, into the arms of a behemoth. She flailed at him, kicking and screaming, but he was humongous. He smiled, shoved her back inside the room and closed the door.
Morina proudly bragged. "It is useless to run. No one has ever escaped from here."
Mallory studied the woman. She was young, probably under twenty. She was dark with obsidian eyes. Her face was triangular, but attractive, with a small mole on the apex of her left cheek. Her friendly face reflected in a bright, sympathetic smile. Is this woman an enemy or a possible ally?
"My father has personally selected you to be his wife. You dare not refuse this honor. Your life, like that of the one who soiled you, could be forfeit."
What did she mean, the one who soiled me? Why can't I remember? "Tell me about the one who soiled me."
"His name is Khalid, but you know him as Drew. He was supposed to deliver you, but never put his sex in you. He will be sent back to Saudi Arabia and beheaded."
"Beheaded?" A vision of Drew making love to her flashed in her mind. "For screwing me he gets beheaded?"
"Yes, you are lucky you are an American infidel and did not know our laws or you could be buried to you neck and stoned for adultery."
"Adultery? What are you talking about? I'm not married. I don't even have a boyfriend."
"You are betrothed to my father and another man had you. That is adultery in our country. He knew and slept with you anyway and will pay the ultimate price." A tear well up in the woman's eye.
"Do you know Khalid?"
"Yes. He is nice to me. I had grown fond of him."
So Morina has a crush on Khalid—Drew—whatever his name is. "You said they were going to send him back to Saudi Arabia. Where is he now?"
"He is here, under guard."
Mallory kept playing with her veil.
"You may remove your veil if you wish. You need only wear it in public and in front of men."
"Really?" Touching her coverings she asked, "What about this scarf and shawl?"
Morina laughed. "The head covering is called a hijab and the body covering is an abaya. You need not wear them either."
She began shedding the objectionable garments. "Good these things are stifling."
"I shall take you to the women's area so you can meet everyone." Morina stood. "Follow me."
Mallory stared at the view through the plate glass windows at a scene that looked eerily familiar. They were near the top of a high-rise building. Close by, apparently part of the same complex, she could see two shorter towers. "I meant to ask you, where is here?"
The woman seemed surprised, but answered, her tone matter of fact, "We occupy the entire top three floors of the Babylon Hotel in Las Vegas, with the women exclusively on the top two floors."
Las Vegas? The Babylon? Mallory didn't know if she could take one more surprise. At least she was only three hundred miles from home instead of six thousand miles in a foreign misogynistic land. It was becoming obvious if she were going to get out of the mess, information would be a key.
"I don't think I'm ready for the women's area yet. Is there somewhere else we could go? Maybe have a cup of coffee and talk?"
~* *~
"Where are we headed, Carboni?" Goodwin asked between sips of the coffee he brought.
"4569 W. Rochester Avenue in Westwood Village."
"And."
"Two separate neighbors each reported hearing gunshots at about four in the morning. Dispatch sent a uniformed patrol car by and he reported the front door was wide open, nobody was there, but signs of violence were evident."
"Such as?"
"Blood on the sheets and wall of the master bedroom and a trail of blood drips clear out the door and to the curb."
"Hmmm, not looking good for our pretty lady."
"Maybe. A crime scene team is already there and Grommen and Samuels are interviewing the witnesses for us."
Goodwin frowned. "What are they doing there? I thought this was our case."
"It is. They were originally sent out, but the Chief wanted us. They'll be working under us."
"Do they know that?"
"Not yet but I'll bet you can't wait to tell them."
Goodwin smiled. "You mean you're gonna let me have the honor?"
Carboni pulled up to the curb. "Be my guest, partner."
~* *~
Morina led her to the outside pool area. Sitting at a umbrella shaded table, thirty stories up provided a magnificent view of the city. She ordered a carafe of coffee and pastries from the waiter.
Ma
llory wanted to garner as much information as possible. "Morina, I have a lot of questions. Tell me about Ali?"
Somewhat haughtily, Morina responded, "Prince Ali is a Saudi prince. He is tenth in line for the throne of Saudi Arabia, yet he hasn't set foot in Saudi Arabia in twelve years. He has lived in the United States for the last six years, the last three of which, have been here at the Babylon."
"He has rented the top of the Babylon Hotel for three years? He must be fabulously wealthy."
She laughed. "Oh no! He is fabulously wealthy, but he bought the hotel when we moved here."
Mallory frowned. "Really? So he pretty much controls everything that goes on here. What else can you tell me?"
"Prince Ali—my father—is fifty-four years old. He currently has three wives and eleven children, of which six are boys. Father had the maximum four wives, but his second wife, Sylema—my mother—recently passed away, which is the reason he can now take you for his fourth wife."
Mallory placed her hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss, but why do you say he can now take me as his wife?"
"It is widely accepted that four wives is the limit for Muslim men, who have the means. To take more would be presumptuous, since only our Prophet Muhammad, having taken sixteen wives, had more than four."