Brad gently brushed a strand of hair from Grayson’s eyes, then leaned toward her, cradling her head and shoulders in his arm as he inched his lips closer, feeling his life force fleeing his body and flooding into hers.
The feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt before, somewhere between milk and seed, all from his soul, leaving him both full and empty as the ache of his pounding cock sent a ringing between his ears.
The pressure pulling him toward her was almost violent, as though it might tear his guts through his throat and leave him and Grayson lying together in a pile of death for the barkeep to sweep up. He crawled on top of her and pressed his body against her, grinding against Grayson’s wet spot and whimpering like a dog in heat.
His lungs were on fire, burning his ribcage with a suffocating fear which sent him flailing backward.
Grayson gasped, sucked in a long, deep breath of humid air, then stared up at Brad, her eyes wide with confusion.
“Brad?” she said, hoping for an explanation he couldn’t give.
Chapter Two – Brad Hammer
How the fuck am I going to explain my way out of this one?
Brad kneeled beside the couch where Grayson was sprawled, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. “Are you ok?” he asked, his voice thick with concern, wondering if it was possible that she’d suffer permanent damage from flirting with death.
“I… I think so,” Grayson raised her body, rubbing the back of her head as her eyes swam from empty to pain to confusion. “What happened? Are you ok?”
Maybe she doesn’t remember.
No, Brad figured, he wasn’t that goddamn lucky. He remembered the missing memories from his first Red Breath morning after, then how they had returned in a flood. Fear gripped him like a vice, tight enough to soften his cock.
“I don’t know,” Brad shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “What did happen? Last thing I remember is looking for Willow… and then waking up and seeing you here lying on the couch.” Brad hated the lie and the way it coated his tongue.
Grayson placed her palms against the couch and raised her body, then looked around the dark room.
“Are we in a champagne room?”
“Ah, you’re familiar with the term, eh?” Brad said with a smirk.
She suddenly looked down between her legs, and Brad saw her face brighten to a brand new shade of pink as she self-consciously closed her legs, trying to hide the wet spot on the front of her pants.
“You were taking too long, so I started in the door,” she said, rubbing her neck and obviously attempting to collect the thoughts Brad prayed she would never recall. “Everything after that is blank. What the hell did you do to me?”
“I didn’t do anything. I came in here and saw Willow grinding on you. And you seemed to be enjoying it. She must have some kinda hypnotic power or something.”
“So, why don’t we have her in custody?”
“I was more concerned about you,” Brad said.
“Dammit, Brad. You let her get away!”
Brad exhaled about a gallon of breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“We have to get going if we’re going to catch her,” Grayson said, straightening herself to standing. Brad saw her check herself over, and that sent the blood back to his cock, which was painful and throbbing a half-second later. Damn her for looking so fucking good, and reeking of pussy.
Brad needed to hammer something. Fast.
“Hammer?” she said his name, though for a second, he felt like she’d been reading his mind.
“Yeah,” he said, half behind a sigh as he stood to his feet, “let’s get out of here.”
Brad needed the prison of a car about as much as he needed a second hole in his dick. Grayson took a final uncertain look around the room, then slapped the metal bar hard, opening the door and sending the image of Willow running into the sunlight soaring into the front of Brad’s mind.
Sunlight stabbed their eyes as soon as they stepped into its warm rays. Brad was thankful for the comfortable silence sitting between them, leaving each to their own thoughts.
They climbed inside the car and started making their way toward the interstate, riding in quiet until Grayson finally asked the question Brad had been hoping she wouldn’t ask, though he had been preparing for it ever since Grayson opened her eyes on on the floor of Bottoms UP!.
“How did she make it past both of us?”
Because we both wanted to fuck her.
“I don’t know,” Brad shook his head, running his hand absently along the inside of his thigh, hoping against hope that Grayson didn’t turn and see how close his cock was to tearing fabric. “I remember seeing her dance on the stage. Everything after that is sort of a blur.”
It was only half a lie, but that didn’t make him feel any better.
“I have the worst headache,” Grayson rubbed her temples. “You up for stopping for coffee?” She said it like it was a question, though when it came to Grayson and coffee, only a Sasquatch was strong enough to stand in the way.
“Sure. I need to piss anyway,” he said, as casually as he could, considering the growing stress in his gut, dick, and ball sack.
Grayson flicked her blinker, and pulled all the way to the right, flying toward the next exit, then pulling their Lincoln into a grimy gas station that promised enough caffeinated sludge to set the smile back on her face.
Hammer watched her ass sway as she approached the mini-mart and remembered her squirming on the floor beneath Willow’s naked body. A new burst of pain shot from cock to brain.
He needed to find a stall with a door before Grayson poured her coffee.
Half-running into the store’s restroom, Brad silently thanked whoever needed thanking for giving the crap shack’s architect the good goddamn sense to make the bathrooms private. After closing and locking the door, Brad pulled his throbbing cock from his pants, curled his fingers around the thrumming shaft, then started rapidly stroking it from base to tip.
Visions of Willow flooded his mind.
Willow was fucking Grayson like he couldn’t, rubbing her cunt against Grayson, and driving her into shudders and screams.
Then the vision shifted.
Willow was sucking off some random bald guy from the filth of an alley. She was wearing an oversized men’s shirt, long enough to hide the nothing she was wearing down below. The man’s back slapped brick as he thrust his hips against Willow’s face, his cock hitting the sides of her cheeks as she sucked both seed and life from his body. Willow looked up at him and smiled, then plopped his cock from her mouth. He came on her face, then dropped to a lifeless pile.
Brad grunted, heaved, then opened his eyes.
His shoes were wearing cum, and so were the walls. Splatters painted tiles, running down their gloss, creating small pools of milky goo all along the floor of the tiny private bathroom.
Brad’s head buzzed with the sugary sweet pleasure of sweet release.
Who was the random bald guy?
Brad could feel Willow. She was close, extremely close, projecting her thoughts whether she meant to or not.
Fuck. He was in this way too deep.
Brad rinsed the cum from his shoes and slipped from the door, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked around for Grayson. Spotting her already in the car, he ran toward the Lincoln and practically fell inside. “She’s here.”
“What? Where? How do you know?” Grayson asked all three questions with barely a beat between them.
“Got a lead in there. Said they saw a woman matching her description in an alley, wearing a man’s shirt but otherwise naked. They couldn’t remember exactly which one, so we’ll have to go slow. But it’s gotta be her.”
Grayson’s uncertain look turned Brad defensive. “Look it’s a lead,” he said. “And right now it’s all we have, so let’s get going.”
“Ok. Ok. Sheesh,” Grayson turned the engine, looking almost offended.
They looked in every alley surro
unding the gas station, but found nothing. Still, Brad was certain. She had to be close. He could feel her.
They sifted through seven blocks and 14 alleys before they found the bald man. He was white and cold; his face displaying an eerie smile that defied its death.
Pools of sticky juices dotted the alley.
“She’s definitely been here,” Hammer said through grinding teeth, as though Grayson couldn’t see for himself. The sticky juices and lingering sent of Willow sent the throb back to his cock.
He had to fuck. Sending himself to Nirvana simply wasn’t the same.
Grayson bent to investigate, and Brad stared at the graceful lines of her ass, captivated as always, but now raging hard with her ass perfectly positioned to swallow him whole.
He imagined Grayson, turning from the bald man and unzipping his zipper, then freeing his dick and slipping it into her mouth. She looked up and whispered, “I’m going to suck your dick so hard, you won’t be able to stand when I’m through. Are you ready?”
“Hammer?” Grayson was staring at him. He had to shake his head from senseless to sense and try to ignore the fact that he could practically feel his dick between his partner’s lips. He broke his gaze from Grayson’s body and made himself focus on some imaginary piece of evidence laying by his foot. He knelt to look.
Grayson continued to stare. He could feel her eyes lingering behind him for the long minute before she finally spoke. “You gonna be alright Hammer? You’ve been acting weird for a while.”
His head kept pounding, just like his dick. He needed to get it wet and had to fight the urge to bend Grayson over any and every object in sight. “I’m good,” he said. “Let’s call this in and keep moving.”
Back in the car, Grayson’s scent devoured his senses. He wanted to dig his thick fingers into her hole and see if she was as wet in reality as she was in his head. He told her to keep driving, and that he had a massive headache. Brad closed his eyes and tried to ignore the throb. A short series of stops later, and the agents found themselves headed north on the interstate following another lead, speeding toward Texarkana with Brad’s desire getting fatter by the minute, pushing his limits.
It was no wonder Willow killed.
“Maybe she’s seeking shelter in strip joints. She’s less likely to stand out, and more likely to find food if she’s dancing,” Brad said, trying to come up with a reason to separate from Grayson. “And besides, since a girl like that could get a job in any joint she walked inside, it’s likely our best bet.”
“I don’t know,” Grayson shook her head. “I’m not sure she would try two clubs in the same day. That’s too obvious, and Willow seems too calculating for that.” She sucked on her bottom lip, sending fresh visions pouring into Brad’s mind.
I have to get the fuck out of this car.
“I think we should at least check it out,” Brad insisted, running a hand over his bulge.
Grayson sighed, then shrugged, probably figuring it wasn’t worth the fight, especially since their lead only gave them a general direction, rather than a location. An excruciating 20 minutes later, Grayson pulled the Lincoln in between a pair of neat yellow lines in front of an old wooden building with a half-lit neon woman sporting spread legs and giant tits.
“Classy,” Grayson huffed, opening the door.
“Look, I think it would be wise if one of us stayed out here and watched for her coming in, or leaving. Last time we were both in the same place, and neither of us remember what happened or how she escaped.”
Brad inwardly congratulated himself for finding logic she couldn’t argue.
Grayson held his eyes like she knew his game, but said, “Okay, Hammer. I’ll keep watch out here.” It wasn’t likely Grayson actually knew he was going inside the club to calm the inferno in his pants, but Brad was relieved she wasn’t going to fight.
Crunching gravel on his way to the large steel door, Brad rubbed his hand over his throbbing third leg. At the door, he turned around and glanced at Grayson, who gave him a slight wave, suspicion still on her face.
Brad opened the door and allowed himself a second as his eyes adjusted to the extremely dim lights – the brightest spilling from the stage where a blonde with too much blue eye shadow was grinding against the metal pole.
Brad made his way to the bar, surveying the selection as he walked. The redhead in the corner cleaning a table caught his eye first, her fiery hair spilling from under the cowboy hat covered half her back making it easy for Brad to imagine it sweeping his body as her hot mouth swallowed his cock. Just like the black leather chaps framing her ass made it easy to imagine him pounding her dirt hole, and the small leather straps hooked around her thighs with buckles digging into her pale skin made him want to cover her flesh in his own brand of cream.
He was two feet from the redhead when she turned, capturing light in the glittering sparkles coating her freshly shaven cunt.
Now that’s fucking perfect.
She made it two steps toward him before she started panting. The sheer white fabric covering her store-bought titties tightened as her pebbles pressed against it.
“Can I help you sugar?” she said in a fake Texas accent.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt you can,” Hammer grinned, taking a step toward her. The redhead’s eyes left his, drifting toward the fat fuckbulge in his pants that Brad no longer wanted to hide.
She gave him a FUCKME! smile, then turned and headed toward a curtain covered hollow in the corner of the room. Brad followed, dipping his head beneath the low entrance and stepping into a small room with a seat, a pole, and a stereo system hooked to the wall. Brad sat in the seat and watched her fiddle with the dial and turn on the music.
Moves Like Jagger suddenly blared from the speakers as the redhead swayed her hips to the beat, raising her arms toward the brim of her hat, plucking it from her head and planting it on Brad’s before mounting his lap.
Hammer reached between their bodies, freeing his massive beast from its cage. Her eyes went wide and Brad smiled, pressing his finger to her lips and silencing the brewing words as he started stabbing the air between them.
Their eyes met as her small hand circled the girth. Her wide eyes grew wider as he felt her moisten on his leg through the thin material of his slacks.
Finally.
Hammer picked the redhead up by her shoulders and slammed her into the opposite wall. She panted, making her large fake tities rise and fall in front of his face. He lowered her until her heels clicked on the floor, then squeezed his fingers into her plush skin, sending her into a fit of thrashing against the wall.
He removed a hand, replacing it with his mouth, gnashing his teeth against her soft and succulent skin, leaving a trail of small red welts as his lips drifted over her body. His teeth latched onto her tender nipples, sending a scream flew from her mouth.
Her hands tore at Brad’s hair and she thrashed like a wild, trapped animal.
His fingers fell to her wet, glittering pussy. Three digits dug neatly inside her sparkly cunt, pounding her hard as juices slathered his hand and she arched her back against the wall, straining against the vibrations from her furious climax.
Just as the final shudder passed through her, Brad slammed his enormous cock inside her gaping, waiting hole. He felt her sopping pussy tighten around his dick and made it four strokes before filling her with white custard.
Pleasure flowed through his body, his muscles going soft as he twitched inside the nameless whore, opening his eyes to see his pudding drip from inside her, coating her already sticky inner thighs.
He removed his cock, then brought her head in toward his mouth and said, “clean that shit off,” into her ear before pushing down on her shoulder and watching her mount his cock with the fat of her lips.
Hard again in a record two strokes, he pulled the redhead back to her feet, then turned her ass to face him. He slapped a hard hand on her back, bending her at the hips. Her hands hit the floor as her legs spread in open invitation. Hooki
ng his fingers over her hip bones Brad entered her again, gaining speed with each stroke, her moaning rising above the music as he pounded her harder into a shush.
It worked.
The redhead whore’s screams were trapped, somewhere inside her throat as he demolished her tender pink inner skin, stretching it wider as he slammed his already spitting snake down to the base, waiting for his dick to empty again while he held her chap clad hips in place.
Brad released the redhead, and she spilled to the cool concrete floor beneath them in a panting heap of leather, skin, and lace. She stared up at him from the floor, mouth stretched wide in a satisfied grin. He returned her gaze and threw the hat to the floor beside her, before stuffing his dick back in its cage and wiping a gob of goo from his shoe.
Brad bent over the redhead, and held out a finger dripping with cum. She took the finger between her lips sucked it dry, then smiled as Brad grinned and slowly drew it from her mouth.
Hammer took one last look at her long body crumpled on the floor before turning his back and disappearing through the curtain, and then back through the door to the bright light outside.
Brad climbed into the car and buckled his seat belt. Grayson turned to him with a disgusted look painting her face and mild nausea wrinkling her nose. The stench of sex was especially sharp in the relatively small cabin.
“Find out anything?” she asked, turning the engine as though she wasn’t thinking about what had gone on inside the strip club.
“She wasn’t in there,” Brad grinned.
Grayson rolled her eyes, then pulled from the parking space.
“It’s late Grayson, why don’t we just check in over there?” Brad pointed to a dive motel across the street.
Her eyes looked as tired as she probably was, and both of them needed a shower, so Grayson nodded, maneuvered the Lincoln into one of the first parking spaces, and peeled herself from the seat.
The XXX Files Season One (Episodes 1-4) Page 10