by Skylar Cross
The squeaks get faster as my strokes speed up again.
I don’t hold back this time.
I rail her. I pound her. I fuck her like a wet rag doll.
Her face contorts and she groans in pleasure. Her head goes back and she wails.
I keep on pounding, an orgasm on the launch pad.
“I’m going to fill you with cum! I’m going to fill your fucking pussy with cum! I’m fucking you, you fucking dirty girl! You’re such a fucking filthy, dirty girl!”
I scream as I come, spewing my seed inside her in a long gush. It’s a huge load that keeps erupting in a series of strokes.
She screams again as her head goes back one more time and her nails claw down my back.
One more thrust and the last of me is inside her. I go deep on the last thrust, just because I want to.
This is it. This is life. This is what I was born to do best. To be up here, looking down at this stunning beautiful girl, coming inside her, giving her the fucking of her life while satisfying my own primal needs.
But she’s not just any girl. I fuck girls all the time. That was an orgasm like I haven’t had in years. So real. So good.
I rest, leaving myself inside her for a few moments before I pull out.
I move my face to hers and kiss her again.
Chapter 8
Sofia
Oh my God, what have I done?
Is this real?
Did Colton Stark just fuck me in the locker room?
My aching tunnel is a steady throb of proof as the water from the shower flows down over me.
I’m reminded again as I walk back into the locker room as I dry off. With each step, I swear I can still feel him inside me.
That massive cock.
Oh my God, I couldn’t believe how big it was.
I kept looking down while he reamed me, stunned at the sight of that beast pounding into me.
How did I survive that, seriously?
Although I have to admit, I loved every moment of it. When I woke up this morning, I never suspected I’d get the fucking of my life before dinner.
And I do mean The. Fucking. Of. My. Life.
I’ve had guys. I’ve had girls.
But that... huh... that... holy fuck!
That was unique.
Get a grip, Sofia!
I slam my hand into the same locker he pushed me up against.
Damn it, nothing has changed, Sofia! He’s still a criminal you’re investigating! You still need to plant the firefly in his car!
Fuck!
What is wrong with me?
They got a thing for criminals. They like bad boys. All of them.
Again my father’s voice thunders through my head, echoing in a deep chamber.
Fuck.
I’m such a fucking failure!
I slam my hand into the locker again.
Then I put my clothes on.
Clothes on, I close the locker door, sling my bag over my shoulder, take a deep and determined breath, and walk back out into the gym.
He’s right there, waiting for me by the ring, his gym bag next to him. Casual. Arms folded. Leaning comfortably like he owns the place.
He turns slowly and looks at me with that goddamned smirk. And those goddamned blue eyes.
Zing!
Grrrrrrrrrrrr... no!
I fold my arms, pausing in front of him. He continues to stare at me.
“What?” I say, a little too much irritation in my voice.
“I can’t believe how much I want to just look at you all day.”
The magnetic field is back, particles of energy encircling us. A zone of charged electricity created by our proximity to each other.
God, I’m hopeless.
“That was... wrong,” I say.
“Yes. Which is why it was so right.”
“Hope Britney didn’t hear us.”
“I sent her home before I went in there.”
“Sent?”
He picks up his bag and starts toward the door. “Yeah, I own the place.”
Zing!
I walk behind him, a new (and somewhat painful) throb starting up in my damaged pussy.
“Next class isn’t till six so I have to lock up,” he says. “You parked close?”
“No. In fact, could you give me a lift to my car?”
He turns and looks at me with a quizzical smirk.
What the fuck?
“Sure,” he says while putting on his sunglasses. “Can you step outside while I set the security code?”
I just nod and walk out onto 14th Street. The wind has died down but it’s still cool. Thank God, because I’m sweating again. I open up my bag and take out a bottle of spring water, guzzling it down.
He steps outside and the door locks behind him. He’s holding his phone to his left ear, talking to somebody.
“Eduardo,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover it. I’ll do a transfer when I get home. Tell Carmelita she’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it. Okay? Okay.”
He clicks off and puts the phone in his pocket, throwing that evil smirk at me again.
Zing!
I watch him walk, my lips on my spring water bottle.
I didn’t get that cock in my mouth. I’m kind of disappointed.
That would have been fun.
But it isn’t going to happen! I’m not going to let it happen again!
As he walks, his crisp, white shirt highlights those broad shoulders. I can still feel my fingernails digging into that back.
God, I swear I can still feel him fucking me.
That man.
Just fucked me.
My eyes fall to his ass. His tailored chinos highlight its sturdy jut as he walks. I didn’t get a good look at it naked, even though I got a rock solid handful while he reamed me.
He turns, almost at the corner. “You coming?” he says.
Almost.
I walk toward him.
His Bentley is right there on the side street.
He walks to the passenger door, opens it, and motions me in.
I walk around him and sling my bag onto the floor. At the same time I slip the firefly from my pocket to the palm of my hand.
I’m about to get in when he grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him.
He kisses me hard.
Zing!
I melt into his chest, protruding through his open collar. Begging me to lick it.
In a rush of explosive energy, I’m wet again. His hands travel down to my ass, squeezing and lifting my cheeks. His tongue presses into my throat.
At the same time, his hand moves under my waistband and cups my pussy over my panties.
“No,” I say, trying to push him away.
He stops kissing me and leans back an inch, trapping my eyes with his.
God, there’s no point to resisting, is there?
“One more taste,” he says as his fingers dive over the band of my panties and jam themselves into me.
He takes them out and sticks them in his mouth, sucking my juice off them.
My knees tremble, causing my legs to jiggle.
He smirks again, then slaps my ass.
“Get in.”
I get in.
As I do, I sink my hand underneath the seat, looking for something on which to clip the firefly.
As he gets in, he shoots that quizzical smirk at me again.
I fucking love that.
“Where are you parked?” he says.
I tell him and in two minutes we’re there. On the way, I manage to clip the firefly onto a strip of metal under the seat.
“Over there,” I say. “The Chevelle.”
“That’s your car? The yellow 1970 Chevelle with black racing stripes?”
“Restored it myself.”
“Must attract a lot of attention with that, not that you wouldn’t attract a lot of attention just by walking out the door.”
Zing!
I take a sip from my water bot
tle. “Yeah, I hate that part. I just like the car and I had six weeks vacation a couple of years ago with nothing to do.”
He leans closer to me. “So you bought a 1970 Chevelle and restored it?”
“Yeah.”
Closer. “Yellow.”
“Yeah.”
Closer. “With racing stripes. In six weeks.”
“Yeah.”
He kisses me. “That’s the fucking hottest picture, you covered in grease with a wrench in your hand. If I walked into a garage and saw that, you know what I’d do?”
The electrical particles ping me all over, sending a new wave of intense heat down into my crotch.
“No, what would you do?” My voice sounds distant and gravelly.
He leans into me and whispers into my ear, the smell of soapy pine filling my nostrils.
“I’d slam the hood shut, pick you up, throw you on it, and fuck the living shit out of you on top of that car.”
I lose control of my breathing as he licks my neck. Again, I’m a diffuse blob of dribbling jelly.
He bites my ear and then sits back in the driver’s seat, eyes forward like nothing happened.
“Dinner,” he says. “My place. Tonight.”
Whoa, what. Where am I? Oh yeah.
“Um,” I say, trying to think. I remember my dad. “No, I can’t tonight.”
“Okay, tomorrow night then.”
“Yes.” Then I remember I said I’d keep Mike company tomorrow night. “No.”
“Wednesday, then. I’ll keep going.”
“Wednesday.” Think, Sofia! “Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday is good.”
“Fine. Dinner. Wednesday. My place. I’d tell you my address but I’m pretty sure you have it in a file somewhere, officer.”
He kisses me again.
I grab my bag and get out of the car. I look back at him and smile. I mean, I actually smile. A real one. I think I actually mean it.
“Wednesday,” I say.
“Wednesday,” he says as he smirks up at me from behind those sunglasses.
I slam the door shut and he drives away.
At the door to my car, I have my key out. It’s ready to be put in the lock. All I have to do is put it in and turn the key.
But I just stand there.
Still intoxicated by his scent. His presence. The taste of his mouth.
I sway a little, picturing that cock mercilessly attacking my insides.
God, that was good!
Then reality hits me again. I remember my name, my assignment, my task.
I open my car door, sling my bag inside, and get in.
I bang my forehead against the steering wheel.
“What the fuck?!” I scream out loud.
Then I start the engine.
Chapter 9
Colton
“Heat is on fire tonight, Colton!” says a well-known movie star as he pats me on the back.
I look around. So it is. I hadn’t noticed. Lots of girls. Hot ones. Funny, I walked right past them and didn’t even see them.
All I can think of is my dick slamming into the tight walls of that amazing pussy.
That amazing pussy on that amazing girl with the thick lips, the big brown eyes, the flowing black hair.
And that look.
That goddamned look that pierces my armor and sends me flying into space.
“Colton, can you hear me?” says the movie star. “Earth to Colton Stark.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’ve got some stuff on my mind.”
“No shit, man. I was just telling my girls here that Heat is da place. We’re having a great time. Let’s dance!”
He sticks a cigar in his mouth and grabs three of the girls who bounce up with him. He tries to dance. For a white guy, he’s... well, a white guy.
But he makes ten million a picture, so nobody cares. A virtual army of girls descends when they see him on the dance floor.
This used to irk me. My ego would be bruised by all the attention some of my celebrity guests would receive from the girls.
Past couple of years it hasn’t bothered me so much because I’ve seen so many of them fuck up their lives beyond repair.
But tonight I’m thankful. Nothing seems to matter to me except for those eyes.
Those amazing eyes.
Not to mention that tight pussy that I’ve already fucked.
And that ass I have yet to fuck.
God, a cop!
A fucking cop!
Really, Colton? Really?
Yeah, really.
But then reality hits me. She’s investigating me. And the sick part is, I’m guilty.
Guilty of being the hand puppet of a sick fuck of an old man.
That’s why I’m here tonight. I didn’t even want to come out, but there’s somebody I need to speak to about my Jasper van der Voort problem.
I drift up to the VIP area, looking for my target. He’s usually here on Monday nights. Actually, he’s here most nights.
I find him at a table surrounded by girls in tight Forever 21 dresses. I walk up.
“My man, Colton, where is your drink?” says Cyrus Moon.
Cyrus Moon is short, bald, and fat. Probably the oldest guy here at fifty. But he throws more cash around than anyone I know.
The girls surrounding him are the most stunning in the club. I can’t help but notice.
“Colton Stark, my man!” he says. “This is Jacinda, Maria, and Rosa.”
Rosa catches my eye with her smile. Big brown eyes surrounded by dark lashes.
Hmm.
“Hello ladies,” I say. “Cyrus, may I speak with you in private for a moment?”
“Anything for you, my brother.” He gets up.
“Drinks on the house, ladies.”
They squeal as I give Ziv the free drink signal.
I walk to my private VIP area, currently roped off. I undo the rope, allow Cyrus to go ahead of me, and replace it. I sit on the couch in the corner, facing away from the crowd. I motion for Cyrus to sit next to me, which he does.
“What up, homes?” he says.
“Cyrus, is Max Zanik still working?”
Cyrus’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, man. Ain’t never good when nobody asks about Max Zanik. That’s messed up. Why you want to know?”
“Nothing. Just curious. He still in town?”
Cyrus holds my eyes for a beat. “Yeah, he still in town.”
“I want to meet with him.”
Cyrus pauses again. “No way. No fucking way.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cuz if you gots trouble that needs Max Zanik, you in some serious shit, my man.”
“I may be in some serious shit, Cyrus.”
“Fuck, man.”
“Can you set up a meet?”
Cyrus looks at me long and hard. “Aight. But think twice, man. It better be your life on the line if you call Max Zanik.”
“It may be.”
I get up, open the rope, and wave the girls over. Normally I have a couple of Dos Lunases in me already but tonight I get a mojito.
Cyrus and I chill with the girls for a while. Eventually, the one named Rosa finds her way snuggled up to me. Jacinda talks to Cyrus while pressing her butt up against me on the other side. I could probably have both of them together tonight.
“So what do you do, Rosa?” I say.
“I’m a hairdresser, like, you know. But like, you know, I also want more out of life, like, you know.”
“Please do tell,” I say as I wonder how Sofia’s eye is.
“Well, I, like, you know, I don’t know, I want to make a, like, you know, a difference, like, you know.”
“What kind of difference?”
“Like, you know, something meaningful, like, you know. Something that, like you know, makes people go ‘Oh God, wow. Now that’s something.’”
“Like, you know,” I finish for her.
“Huh?” Her head is tilted with a googly smile while twirling her hair.
I turn
to Jacinda. “And what about you, Jacinda?”
“No sé,” she says and sips her drink, giggling and twirling her hair. Her eyes say fuck me.
I get a flash of the tribal tramp stamp right above that perfect ass pressed up against the blue steel lockers. I can still taste the musky, sweaty scent of raw girl cop ass as my tongue probed her.
“Excuse me, ladies,” I say.
The shocked expression on Rosa and Jacinda’s faces as I leave are nearly heartbreaking.
But I know they’ll get over it in five minutes or less.
I sneak out, get in my Bentley, and start up toward the Venetian to head home, but decide against it. Instead, I turn onto 14th Street. I drift down past Tony’s Gym, now closed.
I smile to myself, feeling the sweet walls of that tight cunt as I stretched its walls with my fingers, my tongue buried in her mouth.
Fuck, my cock is hard.
I open the windows and let the night breeze in.
The air is fresh. I love Miami. I’m going to miss it.
My cell phone rings.
Shit, it’s The Beacon.
Fuck my life.
“Yep,” I say.
“Be careful,” says the electronic voice. “Make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“What does that mean?”
But that was it. He or she clicked off.
Chapter 10
Sofia
“What the fuck happened to you?” says my dad.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “I slipped and fell.”
My dad’s pockmarked face gets that steely cold I’m-going-to-kill-someone look. Nobody does that look better. Most street thugs threw up their hands when he used it on them.
“Who is he? Who did this to you?”
“Nobody. I swear, I slipped and fell.”
“Don’t lie to your father!”
I put the groceries I bought down on the counter. Jorge did a good job cleaning up last night. Place is only in mild disarray tonight.
“I was sparring, okay? I tried slipping a punch but my sparring partner was quick.”
“Who? What sparring partner?”
I sigh as I take the chicken, onions, peppers, beans, and rice out of the bag. I try not to think about that glorious magnificent cock.