by Jo Davis
He looked at Katrina. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. Just relax and enjoy.”
Jeri spread his ass cheeks while Katrina took the lube and squirted a generous amount on her fingers. Next she smeared the cool gel on his exposed hole, rubbing in slow circles. He flinched and sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t protest. She kept her touch gentle, letting him get used to the odd sensation of someone touching him in his most private area. Owning him.
Gradually, with each pass, she deepened the strokes. Worked her finger inward, teasing the rim of the puckered opening, dipping inside. Just a bit, to the first joint. Then more, caressing his inner walls, stretching, adding another finger. Farther still, locating the small bump of his prostate and grazing it slightly.
“Oh, God,” he moaned, spreading wider. “I’ve never . . . It’s so good. Don’t stop.”
She had him now. “I’m going to replace my fingers with something much better. You’ll feel a slight burn, and you’ll be full. And the toy will do wonderful things to this spot. Trust me.”
Withdrawing, she retrieved the amazingly lifelike rubber phallus and coated it with the lube. Then she pressed the head to his hole and carefully began to work it inside. She’d half expected some fight on his part, but he opened to her, panting phrases that either meant he was a devoutly religious man or was turned on beyond coherence. She’d bet the latter.
She pushed the dildo to the hilt, watching him writhe like a worm on a hook. Eventually, turnabout would be fair play, but for now she’d relish this power to reduce him to a mass of quivering desire. At her mercy. She fucked him faster, harder, certain by his loud cries that she was nailing the all-important gland.
Jeri stroked his red cock. “Oh, he likes that!”
“He does. Who knew the great Michael Ross was secretly a dirty ass slut?”
“Let’s get him ready. I can’t wait to ride him.”
Twisting the phallus deep, she left it buried in his ass and retrieved the condom, tearing the packet with her teeth. Holding his shaft steady, she rolled the rubber down over his scorching flesh, coated it with lube. Amazing that a man who was so together, even aloof, in his dealings with people could be so incredibly sensual and receptive during sex.
Jeri held his cock steady as she climbed aboard, straddling him. She sank down, taking him inside, and Katrina swore she felt the electricity ripple through all three of them. Michael spanned her friend’s waist with his hands and began to thrust, expressing his pleasure at such a volume, Katrina wondered whether the neighbors might hear. Not that she cared.
She stroked his chest, plucked at his nipples. “That’s it. Drive into her tight pussy, honey. Split her with that big cock.”
“Oh yeah,” he panted. “Fuck, that’s sweet.”
“Look so fine, her riding your cock, my toy in your ass. Fucking yourself while you do her.”
“Shit, yes!” The naughty talk spurred him on, and he drove into her faster, more noisily.
Jeri cried out and ground her pussy into him, swept away by the force of her orgasm. This triggered Michael’s and he stiffened with a shout, holding her in place. Spasmed until he lay limp and sated.
“Jesus, that was fantastic,” he breathed.
Jeri climbed off. “I’ll say!”
Michael pinned Katrina with his dark gaze, mouth curving into an evil grin. “And now there’s the matter of a toy I get to use, and a show I was promised.”
Katrina’s sex throbbed in need. “Let’s go to my bedroom.”
“After you, sweetheart.”
Eight
As Katrina carefully withdrew the dildo and set it aside, Michael knew his ass would be sore for a week. Christ, it felt like the entire cast of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy had completely redecorated in there and bought him a new wardrobe to boot.
The problem was? He’d loved every second of getting his hole plowed.
Who knew the great Michael Ross was secretly a dirty ass slut? No shit.
Standing to follow the ladies, he eyed the rubber monster that had occupied such a small space and brought such ecstasy. He decided he could make peace with the unexpected joy because, one, it was an inanimate object, and, two, it had been wielded by a woman.
Still, the inevitable question snuck past his defenses. Would the real thing cause as much pleasure? Maybe. Might even bring more. Which, come to think of it, could send him into cardiac arrest.
An image of Bastian behind him, the wet tip of his dick breaching his hole, inching inside, made him shiver. It was normal for his mind to go there after what just happened, right? Just because it might feel good didn’t mean he was going to let his friend or any other man spank that monkey. Ever.
Katrina’s bedroom was light and airy, the centerpiece a big canopy bed draped with gauzy beige and blue material. The thing looked like it should be sitting in the middle of a meadow in a fantasy book, awaiting a prince and his princess. He knew it was cozy for sleeping, if that’s what a body had in mind. Perhaps much later, when they were all so wrung out, they couldn’t walk.
He still couldn’t believe Jeri was a friend of Katrina’s. He’d about died when the younger woman rushed inside, straddled his lap, and revealed his romp with her and her twin with not a hint of embarrassment. That Katrina hadn’t thrown him out by his dick, and had instead seized the opportunity to play, made him the luckiest SOB on earth.
“Are you waiting for permission?” Katrina asked. She was reclining on top of the comforter, glorious red hair spilling around her breasts. Jeri lay beside her, cheek propped in one hand.
“I suppose not.” He hurried to join them, but stopped as he remembered something. “I seem to recall that it’s my turn to use a toy, so if you’ll show me where you keep them . . .”
“Over there.” She pointed to a top drawer of her dresser, and he strode over to inspect the goods.
He eyed the contents, unable to put a name to some of the items. Damn, she had quite an assortment, and he thought she was spot-on with her comment about still waters. It was true—some of the most sophisticated people he knew had a private thing for kink, preferred sex a bit wild and dangerous. Katrina’s hidden naughty side both surprised and thrilled him.
Inspecting the gadgets, he riffled through a colorful assortment of plugs, clamps, straps, bottles of oil, and a squishy, rectangular, jellylike thing with beads trapped in it and a hole in the middle. He did a double take at that last toy. What the hell is that?
Continuing his search, he also ran across a small, battery-operated toy with little arms or something on it. Sort of like an evil robot. “Damn, baby, you have some weird shit in here.” He held up the squishy jelly thing with the beads. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s a fake pussy,” Jeri supplied.
“A what?” The women giggled at his expression. And no wonder, since he was staring at it like it was venomous.
“It’s a vagina,” Katrina said between snickers. “You stick your penis in the hole and the beads stimulate you.”
He snorted. “Why the hell would I want to fuck a plastic jelly pussy when I can have a real one?” Sometimes the female mind eluded him.
“Because,” Jeri said, drawing the word out and rolling her eyes as though he were hopeless. “It’s something different. It’s the yum factor of your lover playing with you. Pleasing you.”
“Okay, I get that. Maybe next time, huh?” He put the thing back in the drawer—and found what he wanted. Grinning, he lifted out a string of pink anal beads. “I think this will do nicely.”
Snatching a small bottle of vanilla-scented oil, he carried the beads to the bed and climbed in, putting Katrina in the middle. “I take it you enjoy using the beads, since they’re yours?”
She touched them lightly. “Actually, they’re new. I ordered them online a few weeks ago, and, sadly, I’ve been without a partner to help me try them.”
“You’re an adventurous lady,” he commented, smoothing a palm over Katrina’s h
ip. “I like that. Roll onto your stomach. I’m going to get you ready and then fill that pretty backside of yours. Here, let’s put this pillow under your hips.”
Jeri scooted closer. “What do I get to do?”
“For now, just watch. You’ve got an important part coming up.” He winked at her, and she smiled happily.
With Katrina settled and spread for him like an offering, he wished his recovery time was faster so he could go another round. Plunder that pretty ass of hers, so firm and plump. But he’d gladly wait, because the goal here was to make her forget her own name, not indulge his cock. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait to be the master of her pleasure.
Spreading her cheeks, he drizzled a bit of the scented oil on her hole. “To make things easier. Just relax.” He began to work in the oil with one finger, massaging into her entrance.
“Mmm.”
Not everyone liked ass play, and until today he’d never fully appreciated how good it could feel. Now he prepared her with extra care, making certain she was stretched just enough that the toy would stimulate without discomfort. When she began to make needy sounds in her throat, her muscles limp on the bed, he figured she was ready and picked up the beads.
“Here we go,” he said, placing the first one at the tiny opening. He gave it a gentle push and it slipped easily into her channel, disappearing. “God, that’s wicked.” Beside him, Jeri agreed, eyes wide.
He kept working, pushing one after the other into her hole, fascinated by the pink orbs being clasped by her flesh, then vanishing one by one. She began to writhe, moaning, and he smiled. This was almost as much fun for him as it was for her. “Just a few more, baby. You can take it; don’t worry.”
“So full! I need . . .” She started to reach underneath her, between the bed and her body, going for her pussy.
“Uh-uh, no touching,” he warned, taking her arm and moving it to her side. Finally, the last bead was in, and he nodded at Jeri. “Now for your part. How would you like to drive our poor Kit-Kat wild with your mouth? If it’s okay with her.”
“Yes,” Katrina begged, wiggling.
“Ooh, I’d love to!”
“Go for it, honey.”
Jeri crawled between Katrina’s spread thighs and lay on her stomach, moving close, her face a mere breath from the slick pink pussy awaiting her attention. The lift from the pillow under Katrina’s hips was just enough to allow Jeri to feast to her heart’s content—which was exactly what she did.
Despite coming a short while ago, Michael’s dick took notice of the girl action and perked up a bit. He rubbed Katrina’s bottom as Jeri got into her task, licking the pouty little clit and the wet slit. The girl couldn’t have enjoyed an ice cream cone more than she loved eating her friend’s cunt, and Michael urged her on.
“That’s it, girl. Give her a tongue-lashing she won’t forget.”
When the whimpers and moans from the women began to reach a fever pitch, he reached for the end of the string and prepared to drive his lover over the edge.
Any second, she was going to detonate. Arousal was building at warp speed toward impending orgasm, her skin too tight, the sensation too big to contain. Too hot. Overwhelming.
Katrina moved her hips, trying to fuck her friend’s face, get more of the clever tongue and mouth to bathe her, making her vibrate from head to toe. She was a slave to what they were doing to her, and she loved every second.
Then another sensation joined the mix. A gentle tugging at her hole. One by one, the beads began to pull free, slipping away. The stimulation, the fire quickly burning out of control in her asshole and pussy, was not to be believed. Much less endured. She couldn’t hold out under this dual assault and didn’t want to.
Without warning, her body began to jerk as though electrocuted, the orgasm washing over her in a red tide. “Oh, God! Fuck, yes! Give it to me!”
Distantly, she heard her own hoarse cries and Michael crooning his approval. Jeri moaning into her cunt as she lapped the juices. Everything became a haze of desire as they owned her, brought her down. Left her boneless, sated.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Michael and her friend snuggled on either side of her and the pillow was removed from under her hips. “Sleep,” he said, rubbing her back.
And because she couldn’t do anything else, she let exhaustion carry her away.
In theory, Bastian’s plan to distance himself from Michael had been a good one.
But working for the man made avoiding him damned near impossible. Katrina, too, since the two of them had been joined at the hip for days. They arrived together, took lunch in his office, left together at the end of the day. Bastian and everyone else in the building would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how they glowed in each other’s company, the lingering looks filled with lust. God, it hurt to be on the outside.
Sometimes Bastian caught them glancing at him, their expressions reflecting sadness and . . . pity? And he would turn away and find something pressing to do, because pity he absolutely could not fucking take.
He’d rather plunge a knife into his heart.
Rolling his chair forward, he attempted to focus on the reports on his desk from their agents in the field, and their computer surveillance experts—aka hackers—as well. Neither of Dietz’s henchmen who were cooling their heels in the basement prison were saying much that SHADO didn’t already know.
The hit men didn’t know Dietz’s whereabouts, but gleefully claimed he must be close, ready to make his move. Bastian agreed, but his agents couldn’t get a handle on where Dietz and Tio were hiding. It was like the earth had swallowed the fuckers whole, though he knew they’d never be so lucky. Those two were waiting, biding their time in the darkness like a couple of vampires. Ever since lackey number two had tried to off Bastian the other day, he’d been careful.
Maybe . . . too careful.
The idea took root and began to grow, and Bastian sat tapping his pen on his desk, considering how the plan would proceed. There were several drawbacks, but the reward far outweighed the risk. Mr. President wanted Dietz captured and eliminated, whatever the cost. If Bastian could lure the government’s most-wanted criminal into a trap, the agency would earn a fat bonus. And everyone would have peace of mind.
If only he could put his plan into action without Michael’s approval, but whatever their personal problems, the man was technically his boss. For the time being, anyway. Bastian knew the FBI would take him back in a heartbeat, and he’d been giving a lot of thought to calling his old director. For now, he had a job to do.
Pushing from his desk, he walked the short distance to Michael’s office and knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside. Michael looked up from his own mound of papers, happiness briefly lighting his face before he seemed to catch himself, face blanking, his welcome cool and professional. Bastian wondered whether he’d imagined the fleeting joy in the man’s eyes.
“Come in. What’s up?”
Bastian closed the door behind him and took a seat. “I need to talk to you about something important. An idea I have.”
Michael leaned forward, elbows on his desk. His voice softened, sounding hopeful. “I’d love to hear it.”
He hesitated. Surely the man didn’t believe it involved something personal? Like he was here to bridge the canyon between them? No, that was wishful thinking on Bastian’s part. “I have an idea to draw Dietz from hiding.”
“Oh.” Michael blinked, looking deflated. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
He nodded. “You and I have been extremely careful not to be caught unaware since the attempted hits on us both. We’ve battened down the hatches too much.”
“Explain.” His friend frowned.
“We’re not accessible, so neither is Dietz. We know he’s close by. He’s waiting for an opportunity to move, which so far hasn’t come along. I propose we give him that opportunity.”
“You want to set up a sting.”
“Yes.” Here came the part Michael wasn�
��t going to like. “With me as the bait.”
“No fucking way.” Sitting back in his chair, he shook his head. “Find someone else. Get Emma to make up one of the agents to play your role. We’ll find someone your height and build, put him in a blond wig—”
“Which is exactly what Dietz will expect us to do. But if I go out to a club on my own, supposedly to pick up some action, he might be confident in making a move.”
“I’ll have to pull the men back way too far to make him believe you’re really alone,” his friend said in a low voice. “It’s too dangerous.”
“What’s the alternative? We let him remain at large indefinitely, and just hope that we somehow get lucky and our computer guys or someone else accidentally gets a lead?” He paused. “I’ve gotten three calls from the president this week, demanding to know how close we are to catching this asshole. How about you?”
“Five.”
“What choice do we have, Michael? If we don’t do something, Dietz is going to reorganize what’s left of his men, and when he does, we’re all in deep shit,” Bastian insisted. “We’re not going to catch him without risk. It isn’t possible.”
The defeated slump of Michael’s shoulders signaled his capitulation on the matter. “I wish the bait didn’t have to be you.”
“Well, it has to be one of us, and it makes more sense for it to be me. I’m the one he went after last, and I’m sure he wants to hurt you by getting to me. We’ll make him think we’ve relaxed our guard, that I’ve gone out with no agents trailing me for protection, and I’m positive he’ll move.”
“That’s what worries me. The physical distance that will be between you and our men is problematic. If he goes after you, you’ll be alone for as much as five minutes before backup arrives.” He paused, thinking. “You’ll wear an audio device and one of the pinhole cameras.”
For all the good those would do when their enemy put a bullet in his brain. But Bastian wisely kept the opinion to himself. “How soon can we do this?”