by T L Swan
“You don’t need to do this to please me. I’m happy, satisfied, and completely in love with you.”
I lean in and kiss his big, soft lips. “Please,” I whisper. “I want to give this to you.” We kiss, and he pulls me close. “I want to give everything to you,” I breathe against his lips.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he tells me quietly, and I can feel his hesitation.
“You can’t. I promise.”
Half an hour later, I close my eyes and blow out a deep breath. Brock went to the drug store alone while I took a shower. My heart is beating fast as I stand under the hot water and let it run over my head.
I’m just about to give myself over to him completely.
I hear the door open and I blow out a deep breath. I feel so nervous—more nervous than when I lost my virginity, I think.
I don’t know why. We all know I’ve done this before. Brock walks into the bathroom and slowly peels his shirt off over his head, and then slides his shorts off and kicks them to the side. I smile when I see his erection. He’s aroused just by thinking about what’s to come. He steps under the water and takes me into his arms, kissing me softly.
“Did you get it?” I ask.
“Yes.”
His eyes are dark, and the water is beading over his face from the shower. My eyes roam down his body, his broad shoulders, rippled abdomen, and his dick is hanging heavily between his legs. It’s engorged, and I can see every vein that runs down to the thick head.
He’s hungry for this. I can see it in his eyes, too.
Seeing him naked always has the same effect on me. I never knew that you could love someone and be so physically attracted to them so that nothing else matters. He takes the soap and tenderly washes my breasts, my back, down both of my legs and my sex, and then my behind.
Our eyes are locked as he washes me there. Fucking hell, this is already intense.
I return the favour and wash every inch of him in between kisses, and then he turns the shower off and my heart begins to flutter. He gets out and dries himself, and then dries me before he leads me to the bedroom.
He’s quiet, and I know he’s preparing himself to hurt me. Or perhaps he’s just excited and doesn’t want me to know how much.
He leads me into the bedroom and turns to face me. “You sure about this?”
I nod. “Yes.”
I drop to my knees and kiss his penis. He flexes it against my mouth. I lick up the length of him and then take him into my mouth.
He inhales sharply, and I taste his pre-ejaculate as it leaks out. He places his hand on the back of my head, watching on in awe.
Fucking hell, he looks so damn hot with his cock in my mouth. I rest both of my hands on his thighs and really begin to take him deeper. His soft moans only add to my pleasure, and I feel a rush of cream to my sex.
He pulls my up by the arms and kisses me as he holds me tight. His hands roam up and down my skin in reverence.
“Get on your knees on the bed.”
I slowly do as I’m told, my stomach fluttering wildly.
Oh my frigging God.
“Now drop to your elbows,” he commands.
I drop to my elbows and look through my legs. His cock is dripping with excitement and I close my eyes as I wait for his touch.
He pours some lube onto his hand and then slides it up his shaft. He slowly strokes himself as I watch on. His stomach muscles contract on the upstroke, and my sex clenches in appreciation. “Do you know how fucking turned on I am seeing you like this?” he whispers as he jerks his cock hard.
My stomach dances with nerves. He has that tone about him. He had it the first night we slept together at the gym, and he’s only had it a few times since.
It’s like he’s on the edge of control and at any moment he’s going to lose his mind.
The sound of the lubricant slaps against his hand, and I close my eyes. Even hearing himself wank is a fucking major turn on for him. He gives himself a beating before he walks over behind me and pushes me hard into the mattress. I land head first into the blankets. I know this is it.
He’s lost the last of his control.
It’s on.
He slides his lubricated fingers through my sex, his eyes lingering on his fingers as they disappear into my body.
I close my eyes, moaning softly, and he strokes his cock with the other hand, unable to wait. Then his tongue… it laps at me, his whiskers on my cheeks. His fingers are in my sex, and God…
I hold my breath as I begin to lose all composure.
For fifteen minutes, he brings me to the edge with his tongue, only to let me down again and deny me. My body is writhing on the bed, rippling as I try to get the traction that I need. His cock in his hand the whole time, taunting me as he strokes it.
Fuck’s sake. Brock Marx is the hottest man in the history of men.
Watching him jerk himself off is driving me wild with need. My body is quivering, and I have to fight to keep myself on my knees. Then I hear him flip the cap on the bottle of lube, and I close my eyes.
Here we go.
He warms it in his hand and then rubs it into my behind, sinking his finger into the knuckle. I hear his sharp intake of breath.
“Oh,” I moan.
It’s such a weird sensation. I hate the thought of it… but fuck, does it feel good.
He massages me some more, adding another finger inside. My eyes roll back in my head as he begins to work me.
Oh dear God.
He grabs my hip in his hand and gently begins to rock me back onto his fingers to get me used to the sensations.
I want to moan in pleasure, but it feels so damn naughty, like I shouldn’t be enjoying this.
He applies more lube, and then I feel the tip of his cock at my back entrance.
“Pock,” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“You okay, baby?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, although I’m not quite sure I really am.
He pushes forwards, and I close my eyes and try and block out the burn.
Fuck…!
The pressure and weight of his body forces me into the mattress, and I screw up my face in pain. He pushes in again, and this time the air is knocked out of my lungs. “Argh,” I whimper.
“Nearly there,” he whispers. “That’s it.” He reaches around and with his four fingertips massages my wet clitoris. I instantly feel the pain begin to disappear.
Fuck, my eyes are rolling back again.
He adds two more fingers to my sex, and he begins to pump me until the last of my body’s resistance disappears and he slides deep inside my body.
We both cry out, the pleasure taking over us, and he leans down to kiss me gently on my shoulder.
“You okay?”
I nod, and he grabs a handful of my hair, dragging my face to his. His mouth takes mine and he kisses me deeply. He slowly pulls out and then slides back in. Then again… slowly… now faster.
Oh God, he has complete possession of my body
He turns my head straight ahead. “Watch us,” he whispers darkly.
I turn to the mirror to see myself naked on my knees on the bed with my legs spread wide. Brock is behind me and he has my ponytail wrapped around his hand while he’s fucking my ass.
I can see every ripple in his abdomen clench as he thrusts. His body has a perfect sheen of perspiration over it, and I swear to God, I have never seen or felt anything so damn good in my life.
With one hand on my hip and one hand full of my hair, he rides me. He works harder and harder until our skin is slapping and his head is tipped back in ecstasy. “Oh, fuck,” he cries. “This is too fucking good.” His eyes drop to the spot where our bodies meet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pumps me, and then he growls, and I scream out as a freight train of an orgasm tears me to shreds and he holds himself deep inside of me. His whole body begins to quiver as he slowly empties himself into me, and eventually whispers, “I’m going to pull out, Pock.”
I wince as he does, and he falls to the mattress with a thud, pulling me over him. He gifts me with the perfect kiss so soft and tender.
“I love you,” he whispers.
My heart is hammering in my chest. The feeling I have inside of me this time is far from shame. It’s love.
Bright, shining love.
I giggle against his lips. “You’d better.”
Chapter 19
I bend and peer inside the fridge.
“There’s nothing to eat at all. We should’ve got milk on the way home from the airport last night.” I frown.
Brock puts his hands around my waist and kisses my neck from behind. “We’ll stop on the way to work and get something, plus a coffee.”
I slam the fridge shut in disgust. “I’m going to have to go grocery shopping for us tonight.” I sigh. “Great. Just like that, reality bites.”
He turns me in his arms and smiles down at me. “I like that you have to go grocery shopping for us tonight.” His hands snake down to my behind and he squeezes me firmly.
I put my arms around his neck and kiss his big lips. “You’re easily pleased, Mr. Marx.”
He kisses me again. “What? Isn’t a man allowed to like his woman barefoot in his kitchen?”
I giggle. “The phrase is barefoot and pregnant, and I can assure you, that is not happening at any time soon.”
He smiles down at me, as if knowing a secret.
“What?” I ask.
“Move in with me.”
My face falls. “What?”
“Move in with me, here. We’ve slept in the same house every night since we’ve been together anyway. What’s the difference?” He shrugs. “It just means your things will be kept here.”
“Brock, we’ve been together for, like, a month.” I frown.
“So?”
“You don’t even know everything about me.” I gasp.
He grabs my behind and grinds me against his pelvis. “I know all I need to know.”
“Brock.” I shake my head and pull out of his arms. “You don’t just move in with someone because you have declared your love to them.”
“I do,” he snaps, obviously annoyed that I’m not jumping at the chance.
“You don’t even know my family,” I say as I put my hands on my hips.
“Then organise for me to get to know your family.” He begins to slam around the kitchen cupboards looking for something. I watch him, knowing he’s annoyed that I’m not jumping at the chance.
“You seriously want me to move in here?” I frown.
He rolls his eyes. “Do you listen to anything I fucking say at all, woman? Yes, I want you to move in with me.”
“Why? What’s the rush?”
He takes me in his arms. “Why wait? I love you, you love me, and we’re going to end up living together anyway. So why would you pay rent for your apartment when you are staying here every night, anyway?”
I smile up at him. He looks so hopeful and in love as he waits for my answer.
“You told me you wouldn’t hold yourself back from me, Tully,” he says softly. “Isn’t that what you’re doing by not moving in with me?”
I walk back to him and take his lips with mine. He’s right, I did say that. Maybe I am holding back. And maybe this is the most stupid fucking thing I have ever done.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” he asks, surprised I’ve given in so easily.
“Okay, but I’m not cancelling my lease just yet. I’m keeping my apartment for a while so we can get used to each other. We can just move my stuff over gradually. Each time we go back to my house I’ll bring a few things over,” I say. “But...” I add. “You’re cooking and cleaning.”
He smiles mischievously. “I’m the operations manager, Pocket. I can only take care of physical activity. Anything other than that is out of my jurisdiction.”
I raise my brows. “Oh, is that right?” I smile. “And what do I do in this house?”
He squeezes my behind and pulls me onto his hard, waiting dick. “Well, you’re the boss.”
I drop my mouth open, feigning shock. “Are you finally admitting that I’m the boss of us?”
“You’re the boss of the house,” he corrects me calmly.
“And as the boss of the house, what exactly do I need to do?”
“Just wear your uniform.”
“My uniform?” I smile.
“Your uniform is. Naked.”
I giggle as he walks me backwards and pins me to the fridge.
“Cook naked, clean naked, watch television naked, molest the operations manager while naked.”
I laugh again, and then fall serious. “Brock?” I whisper.
“Yeah, Pock,” he replies, distracted as he begins to grind himself against me.
“You need to put your dick away and get me some breakfast before I hurt you.”
He chuckles. “Yes, boss.”
Brock
I sit back in my chair and stare at the girl across the table from us. I exhale heavily, wishing I was back in Hawaii with my girl.
The woman we’re interviewing has long, naturally blonde hair, and she has a definite confident air about her. Her legs are long and athletic, and she’s wearing a next-to-nothing floral summer dress. She’s definitely sexy as fuck, and someone that would probably have peaked my interest in the past. Why the fuck she would suck cock for money is beyond me.
Ben is taking notes, and Jesten is back at the office. It was too much having three of us here with her.
“So, when was the last time you saw Peachy Sue?” I ask.
We are in a café and this girl was one of Peachy Sue’s known friends.
She lights up a cigarette and blows it out, trying to be sexy. Her dark eyes hold mine. I know that look. I roll my lips and stare at her. Why do women do this? Why do they purposely try to turn you on so that they can gain control of a conversation?
“You going to keep looking at me like you want to fuck me, or are you going to answer my fucking questions?” I breathe.
She smiles, licks her lips then takes another drag from her cigarette. “Do you get that often?” she asks, exhaling a thin stream of smoke above our heads. “Do you have girls begging to suck your cock? Is it big?”
I stay silent as I watch her. I’m not playing her fucking games.
Ben licks his bottom lip as he watches her, also unrattled.
She begins to look at her long red nails, feigning boredom.
I lean into the table. “Here’s the thing,” I say firmly. “Somebody is killing girls just like you, and you…” I pause, “could be next. I’m here to help you. So. Start. Fucking. Talking.”
She glances between the two of us. “What will it take for you to protect me?”
I stare at her.
“I can satisfy the two of you more any other woman ever could.”
Ben and I look at one another, and then I turn my attention back to her.
“You can do me together. We could meet up a few times a week. No payment, all you need to do is protect me. I love double penetration,” she admits darkly.
I exhale heavily. She’s scared, and the fact that she offered what she offered means she already does it.
“Who do you already satisfy to protect you, Mia?” I ask.
She swallows the lump in her throat.
“You’re a high-end working girl. You don’t need this shit. Two-thousand dollars for two hours? You don’t give away that kind of service for nothing,” Ben says.
“Don’t judge me,” she whispers. “I do what I have to do.”
“Exactly, and society needs women like you,” I tell her calmly. “We appreciate what you do.”
She smiles to herself, thinking I’m going to try and make a deal with her.
“But here’s the thing: I really don’t want to fuck you,” I add.
She tilts her chin in annoyance.
“I want to protect you.” I lean into the table. “You don’t have
to suck my cock.”
Her eyes darken, and she licks her lips. “Maybe I want to.”
Ben bites his bottom lip and I know he’s trying not to smirk.
“Tell me what you know and you’ll be protected,” I tell her, ignoring her last comment.
“You can’t protect me from them. They’ll kill all twenty of us eventually”
“Who?”
She leans into the table. “You’re so fucking stupid,” she whispers angrily. “You don’t get it. This is coming from the inside.”
I watch her.
“Someone in prison?” Ben asks.
“Who are the twenty?” I ask.
She shakes her head in disgust and begins to stand.
“Give me a name. What does he have on you, or what do you have on him?”
“They use us as if we’re their personal sex slaves.”
“Who?” I ask.
“They promise us protection if we do what they want,” she whispers angrily. “But our girls are still dying.”
“Who?” I whisper.
She takes a drag of her cigarette and rubs her fingers together as she looks at us.
“We aren’t the cops, Mia. We’re ex-military. We’ve been hired by Henrietta Jones’ mother to bring her killer to justice, whoever the fuck that may be. Give me a place or a name and we can help you.”
She looks around the café, guilt and fear crippling her facade.
Ben passes her his pen and notepad. “Write it down.”
She licks her lips, takes the pen and paper, and she jots down a single word.
Cops
I read it. “More than one?”
She nods once.
“Organised?” I frown.
She nods again.
“I need a name.”
She shakes her head and stands.
“Mia,” I say. “Come on.”
“Your answers are at The Roundhouse,” she says, and with one last look between us, she leaves.
Ben hits the end of recording button on his phone, and the two of us sit for a moment. I Google The Roundhouse and frown when I read what comes up.
“The Roundhouse is a gentleman’s club. Entry is by membership only.”