Brothel: The Magnolia Diaries

by Anthology

  The sensation must have sent a current of fuck me now straight to Trixie’s pussy because she instantly grabbed the head of my cock and began humping my shaft.

  There were two too many layers of clothing between my girl and me. Trixie must have agreed, because she pushed my boxers down over my ass and took my cock in both of her hands.

  Fuuuck.

  That bitch could give a hand job. Lacing her fingers together Trixie started at the base of my dick, pulled up, swirled both palms around my sensitive head, then pushed back down with a twist. I released Trixie’s nipple and kissed the shit out of her mouth as she worked my manhood into a lather.

  I rubbed her pussy through her cotton panties and felt her hips buck against my fingers. Trix needed this just as much as I did. Pushing the cotton to one side, I decided to tease her a little—give her a taste of her own fucked up medicine. I slid one finger through her already drenched folds and over her clit, slowly. Then I circled her tight little hole, never entering.

  “Fuck, Trix,” I hummed into her mouth. “You’re dripping wet. You want me, don’t you? You want me to fuck you, right here on Marcus’s desk.”

  Trixie nodded and worked my cock faster, sucking my split lip into her mouth. I could feel the need turning her bossy ass into putty in my hands, and the power made my dick even harder.

  “Say it out loud,” I demanded.

  “I want you to fuck me,” Trixie whispered between our desperate kisses.

  “Who do you want to fuck you?” I asked, slipping my index finger inside of her, but only to the first knuckle.

  Trixie froze.

  I chuckled and began to pump that one finger in and out of her, slowly, grazing her G-spot with every pass. “What’s my name, Trix?”

  “Fuck you,” she hissed, biting down on my split lip and writhing against my hand.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” I said, removing my hand from her panties completely. “Not until you say my name.”

  “Ugh!” Trixie huffed, throwing her head back in frustration. “You’re such an asshole! Fine! Carter! I want you to fuck me, Carter! Okay?”

  I flashed her the Carter Langford Leg Spreader and said, “I know,” just before claiming her mouth and filling her to the hilt with what I consider to be God’s gift to women. Trixie gasped and dug her nails into my back, taking it all. God, I’d never felt anything better. I squeezed her full ass and buried my cock as far into her tight little pussy as I could.

  Trixie’s eyes popped open and the expression on her face was enough to have me pounding my chest like a goddamn caveman. I wanted to own her. I wanted to tame her crazy ass with my cock. I wanted to hear her say my name again.

  Trixie grabbed two handfuls of my hair and kissed me again, nipping at my tongue and pressing her tits into my chest. With my fingers still firmly gripping her plump ass, I held her still as I pulled out and slammed back in, rocking my pelvis against her clit between each thrust. Every time I hit her back wall Trixie made this little sound in the back of her throat that had my nuts feeling like they were about to explode.

  Needing a break before I blew my load, I pulled out and flipped Trixie over. She put her hands on Marcus’s desk and stuck her little ass out, just begging to take it. I still needed a minute, so I slid her Superman underwear down her thighs and slowly trailed my hands up the insides of her legs, through her slippery folds, and over the curve of her ass.

  “Who’s fucking you, Trixie?” I asked, spreading her ass cheeks apart and running my slippery cock up and down between them.

  “Nobody right now,” she said with a huff, pressing back against me.

  I slapped her ass and loved the sound the smack made echoing off Marcus’s ten-foot high ceiling.

  Ah! she gasped.

  “Who’s cock do you want, Trixie?”

  “Yours.”

  Smack!

  I pressed the head of my dick against her little pink pussy and teased her swollen clit with my fingers. “Who’s cock do you want to come all over while you rub your titties on Marcus’s desk?”

  “Carter’s!”

  Smack!

  The slap made her pussy clench around my rod just as I shoved back into her. The feeling was unreal, and I leaned forward and bit the Band-Aid tattoo on her shoulder blade. Pressing her forward with the weight of my body, Trixie laid on Marcus’s desk and gripped the edge with both hands. She turned her head so that the lightning bolt side was facing me, and I licked it.

  With my teeth on her earlobe I surged forward again, so deep my balls slapped her pussy, then I pulled out again.

  “Carter, please,” she begged.

  Goddamn, seeing that crazy bitch pinned to my boss’s desk begging me to fuck her had me feeling like the king of the fucking world. I thrust into her harder than ever and rubbed her throbbing little nub with my fingers.

  “Say it again,” I growled into her ear.

  “Carter,” she whispered.

  I crashed my hips into her full ass again.

  “Carter,” she said, rocking back against me. I slammed into her again.

  “Mmmmm…Carter,” she moaned, rolling her hips against the base of my cock.

  Thrust.

  “Fuck. Carter.”

  Thrust.

  “Fuck me, Carter!”

  I grabbed her ass with both hands and began pumping my thick cock in and out of her tight, slippery hole just like she’d begged me to. The push and pull was insane. I clenched my jaw shut and flexed every muscle trying to outlast her, but fuck, it felt so good I didn’t know how much more I could take.

  “Carter!” Trixie screamed at my frantic pace, her walls beginning to twitch.

  I brought my right hand down on her ass one more time and thrust into her hard as her body clenched like a vise around my dick. She was so close that when I slipped my thumb into her asshole Trixie went off like a fucking rocket. She must have screamed my name a thousand times as her hands gripped the desk, her pussy gripped my cock, and her asshole gripped my thumb for dear life.

  I was a goner. I groaned as my balls pulled up inside my body. As I began to come I pulled out of her pulsing pussy, coating her insides with me. Then I spread her cheeks apart, shot a stream of hot cum between them, and shoved the head of my cock into her eager ass—squirting the rest of my load into her other tight pink hole. Trixie screamed my name one last time as her body squeezed around me, greedily sucking every last drop of jizz it could get.

  When I finally pulled out and lifted Trixie off of Marcus’s desk, we both burst out laughing at the oily titty prints she’d left on the pristine, polished surface.

  I turned her around and pulled her into my arms. Kissing the top of her green head, I chuckled, “You know that motherfucker told me I couldn’t handle you? God, I wish he could have been here to see you bent over his desk screaming my name.”

  “Oh, he’ll see it,” she giggled, pointing to a security camera in the corner of the room.

  My face fell and my stomach did a fucking backflip. “Shit.”

  “Relax,” Trixie said, laughing even harder. “Marcus isn’t gonna fire you—you know way too much. He’s just gonna get a nice little fuck you when he checks the tapes to find out how that titty smudge wound up on his desk.”

  I picked her up and swung her around. “You really are perfect,” I said, setting her back on her feet. “I think I fucking love you, Trixie, and I don’t even know your real name.”

  “I know yours,” she said with a smile. “I think the whole goddamn mansion knows it now.”

  THE END

  The Madame

  M Written by Ace Gray

  Copyright © 2017 Ace Gray

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are us
ed fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  M

  Dark lace brushed my eyelashes as I surveyed the men lounging on the various chairs and couches in the foyer. Most of them were as rich as the gold accents and lush fabrics adorning the room. They left little to the imagination just like the Agent Provocateur covered bits of my girls, or Trixie’s Wonder Woman costume.

  But we weren’t here for conversation or to make friends. No one was here to pick out a husband or wife, despite the fact that I’d been losing girls left and right to fucking marriage. No, we were here for sex.

  Having it. Wanting it. Hungry for it. And paying for it.

  Sex.

  “Gentlemen, I deal in fantasy, so now I ask, what’s yours?” My voice dripped with seduction as I gestured to my perfectly buffed and shined girls.

  Low murmurs of hunger warmed the room as the men rose in their designated order to select a girl. I rolled the riding crop I held in my hand, only using it once to shoo a roving hand from between Trixie’s thighs.

  “Be careful, that one bites. Hard.” I arched my eyebrow even though it was hidden behind my mask and, as if on cue, Trixie snapped and smiled that maniacal smile she tended to wear. The man who’d run his fingers along her was all the more enticed, drool pooled in the corners of his mouth and an erection tented his pants as he trotted after her downstairs.

  One by one, the selections went like that, until there was only one man left. He had wavy dark hair that fell into his eyes and danced on high cheekbones. His jaw was every bit as sharp, covered in dark scruff. His muscular body draped over his chair as if he’d been born and bred for pleasure, just like me.

  I couldn’t help but lick my lips.

  “And you, sir?” I asked as I walked closer, drawn like a moth to his flaming golden eyes. “What’s your fantasy?”

  His perfect, plump lips pulled up the smallest bit as his gaze swept over every inch of me, lingering on the scandalously deep V of the curve hugging satin dress I’d chosen.

  “You,” he finally answered with a husky rasp of a voice that struck me down deep, whether I liked it or not.

  I shoved my hands on my hips as my gaze narrowed, and I pursed my lips, a move that happened to shift the neckline of my dress enough that my nipple almost peeked out.

  “Definitely you.” A full smile spread as he shifted and stood, walking straight toward me.

  “I’m not on the menu,” I almost snarled at him.

  He stopped less than an inch from me, heat radiating between us as he tilted his head to the side to study me. There was a smokey, piney scent that drifted from the skin exposed beneath his unbuttoned collar that reminded me of a man long gone. Of a man that had been my home. My eyes flicked up to meet his, only to find them angled down and devouring the tanned skin between my breasts. When he finally swept up my body, leaving wildfire in his wake, and met my gaze dead on, my knees knocked together.

  “Get a new menu,” he purred as he leaned in close, so close his breath puffed against my ear.

  Before I could respond—hell, before I could stand up straight—he turned and wordlessly strolled out the door, letting the heavy brass slam into place and reverberate through far more than just the walls.

  *****

  Shep

  “I’m in,” I said gruffly on the phone.

  “And?” My boss’s clipped voice and the plinking of computer keys told me that he wasn’t really focused on the update, just the protocol of it.

  “And it’s everything we expected it to be.”

  “Was he there?”

  “No.” I breathed heavily, remembering who was. “But the members read like a who’s who of the community, or better yet, the state.” There had been two sheriffs still wearing badges, the mayor, at least one congressman, and more oil money than I cared to recount sitting in that room.

  “Good work Agent Finley. Keep it up and remember why you’re there.” The director of the Dallas FBI Field Office hung up unceremoniously on me.

  The word remember was a trigger. I could summon up the memory of the Madame stunningly sharp, shimmering even, and in a way that made me sure I would be able to feel her in my bones until the day I died. Long after I shut down the sprawling Southern mansion, arrested Marcus Devereux, and went back to Dallas, the Madame would haunt my dreams.

  Black satin had given way to caramel tanned skin and zero tan lines. I’d raked my gaze over every single inch of her, and not one blemish, not one mark distracted from her downright dangerous curves. Except crimson. Bright, full, fuckable, crimson lips. She had slunk through the room whispering about fantasy and sex. The lace mask she wore obscured the color of her eyes but not the twinkle they got when she spoke of sin.

  The pure amount of flesh on display beside her should have pulled my attention away. She should have been a specter floating through the room, suggesting debauchery with little more than a whisper. But, to me, she was a blaring and overwhelming force of nature.

  She was bewitching.

  Only one other woman had captured me body and soul before. And she was years ago, a million miles away, tumbling arms and legs in a hay field under the stars. I’d never stopped loving Gracie. I’d never stopped craving the wild fumble that was our innocent love and exploratory feels, but this new woman—this Madame—would be a different kind of addiction all together.

  The heady combination of both women, both fantasies, had me reaching to my fly. I didn’t even bother to move out of the kitchen where condensation dripped off my beer and onto the tile. My belt took the fine fabric of my pants to my ankles easily enough, and I unbuttoned two more buttons to pull my shirt overhead before reaching for my semi and fisting it.

  My first love’s warm honey taste mixed with the Madame’s artfully painted lips, and both started to coat my skin. Filthy things, both memory and imagined, were a ménage flashing through my mind. My dick went rock hard, filling my hand.

  It was those women taking good care of my cock behind my eyelids.

  I could almost feel my tight virgin Gracie as I squeezed. Then there was the Madame’s ass she’d undoubtedly let me shove into. I stroked harder as I pictured my dick spreading either one of them wide. Whether tight and sweet like Gracie, or rich and responsive like the Madame, I didn’t care, I just wanted to feel the slick velvet of them, pulling me in deep.

  The harder I fisted on myself, the more the two bodies blurred behind my eyelids. I couldn’t tell where Gracie ended and the Madame began. Perfectly tanned skin was rolling against mine. Gracie’s tiny, pert breasts, her thin legs wrapped around my hips, her small hands roving anywhere they could. The Madame’s voluptuous, rounded tits, her mile long legs twined with mine, her manicured nails wrapped around my cock. The only similarities between them was the outright hunger they inspired in the pit of my fucking stomach.

  I twisted on my dick. Longer. Faster. I pictured going deeper inside—deeper inside either one. I saw my hands wander anywhere they damn well pleased. Gracie’s lips. Madame’s clit.

  My thighs bunched and I swayed the slightest bit as everything in my stomach clenched just before my orgasm shot onto my hand. I stayed in the fantasy a moment longer, gasping for air, not because of the fucking tsunami that hit me when I came, or because I was lost to the fantasy, but because it was something that could never be.

  Gracie had disappeared when she was sixteen, leaving me to nurse a broken heart for far too many years. And I was putting the Madame behind bars the second Marcus Devereux’s empire was razed to dust.

  *****

  M

  Soft pink tinged the sky and kissed the soft white and dark woods of my open living room through the massive wall of windows that made up the backside of my modern home. I barely took two steps from the front door before I shrugged out of my satin dress and let it pool around my Louboutins. I pulled the lace mask off and tossed it in the fine fabric pile as I walked to where my fur coat hung. I cli
cked a few degrees down on the air conditioning then walked over to my bar.

  I ended every night the same. Fur and gin. But something was off this morning. Different. The luxury wasn’t a reward for a successful night, but rather a touchpoint to bring me back to reality, back to myself. With any small mercy, the gin would wash away the scent of him, the fur would chase away the chill he’d left lingering on my spine.

  When he’d leveled his gaze at me and said you, I’d damn near melted with boiling want. That never happened. I traded on the fact that it couldn’t happen. But he’d shredded my insides, the likes of which I hadn’t felt in years. For a split second, he reminded me of the bed of a pick-up truck, flannel blankets, and stars smiling down on me. Of the first and last glimpse of magic I’d ever known.

  I’d shoved that love down deeper than even the lust he’d sent ricocheting through me.

  The gin burned in that downright delicious way as it slid down my throat. It warmed my empty stomach and helped me take in a deep breath. I couldn’t help but notice that the smoke and pine of tonight’s mystery man still danced across my senses.

  Mystery Man?

  He’d thrown me so far off my game, I hadn’t realized he was new. I hadn’t questioned Nicolette about his appearance. The hairs on the back of my neck rose despite the thick fur. I automatically reached for the phone and let it ring.

  “Marcus it’s me.” I let out a deep breath and slugged back a little more martini as his voicemail picked up. “Big oil brought a friend tonight. I wanted to give you the heads up.” I kept it short and simple, no details, just like all our other work calls.

  Marcus and I had worked together for years, and he was the closest thing I had to a best friend. We didn’t sit around and braid each other’s hair but he knew all the bad, dirty, and ugly about me and didn’t judge. I, likewise, had seen every shade of sin he’d ever dealt in. We could read each other in ways that few people could. He would know something was off just by the tone of my voice.