Client 5: A Bad Boy Next Door Dark Romance

by Alexis Angel

  “Great, you wanted her safe, and sent her away, I get that,” Grinder continues and takes another step toward me. “But then when I ask you to do something to protect her, what do you go and do? You intentionally throw my whole plan to shit and do the opposite of what I fucking asked.”

  Now Grinder is standing over me as I kneel on the ground. I’m waiting for my chance. I’m only going to get one opportunity and I’m going to need to make it count.

  “Where is she, Lucien?” Grinder asks, leaning low. “Where’d you hide her?”

  “Why should I tell you?” I ask with a low voice. “Why should I cooperate now when I haven't this entire time?”

  There’s a pause as Grinder looks at me.

  “Well, we’re going to find her before we leave, my friend,” Grinder says. “And you can either watch me and my friends here—Spider included—fuck her till she dies, or you can make sure we just kill her. But I’m not leaving until I tie this loose end. So what’s it going to be, Lucien? The easy way, or the hard—”

  That’s my opportunity.

  I’m kneeling on the ground and I lunge toward Grinder, grabbing both his legs. He doesn’t see me coming and he throws both his hands in the air as I grab his legs and pull up all the while using my feet to push myself to a standing position.

  Grinder hits the ground with a thud and I take the nightstick that I had from the guard in the Visitor’s Room and I club him twice in the head with it. He’s nearly passed out and I turn my attention to the three men coming toward me.

  The first one is too cocky. I take a step back and use the nightstick like a one-handed baseball bat, connecting with his head. He falls to the ground not even knowing what happened. The second slows and pulls out a knife.

  I shrug and rush him. He drops the knife but I use my feet to sweep a wide arc and trip him and then do a pirouette with the nightstick and hit him in the back of the head. The man goes down as I bring my body down low enough to grab the knife.

  The third man never has a chance to do much because I take the knife, take aim and throw. It lands in his belly. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him bleed.

  That leaves Spider.

  He never moved this whole time.

  “Are you gonna kill me, Lucien?” Spider asks, nervous, and fidgety.

  I shake my head. “Not if you leave,” I say to him. “Now.”

  Spider doesn't need a second warning. He turns around and runs the other direction from me and I see him round a corner.

  I sigh a breath of relief. The prison sirens are still going on when I hear a gunshot.

  It startles me. It came from the direction that Spider ran.

  Like I’m in some fucked up video game, going after enemy after enemy, the next one comes.

  Only this time, it's Deputy Warden Marshall.

  And he’s holding a gun.

  “So you’re here to take Kerri to my office?” Deputy Marshall asks. He’s got a smile.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, holding the nightstick and knowing it won't make a fucking bit of difference with that gun. I wish I’d fucking taken that gun from Kerri at this point.

  “You know which way Grinder was heading, don’t lie to me, prisoner,” Deputy Marshall says as approaches me. “I know you know there’s a secret passage from my office to the outside world in the event of a riot.”

  “If there was, it would be the first place they’d look,” I say with a shrug.

  “Not if they never knew about it,” the Deputy says. “Not if the plans never included the passageway back when they built this dump in the 1890s.”

  I say nothing as the Deputy approaches me.

  “Imagine what would happen though if I let you escape,” he says, more to himself than me. “Imagine what would happen to me if my bosses found out that the guy they framed for murder got out under my watch.”

  I bristle. What is he talking about?

  The Deputy Warden raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I know you’re an innocent man, Lucien Stone,” he says with a chuckle. “I know you never killed no woman and her kid, but unfortunately for you, no one else ever will.”

  He knew? He was part of the frame-up? What the fuck. I could fucking kill him right now.

  “Oh I know you must be mad as hell right now, aren’t you, convict?” the Deputy Warden asks. “But for what it’s worth, if it makes you feel any better, it’ll all be over soon.”

  I remain silent. I can tell what’s coming. I’ve been in this spot before. On the other side of the gun.

  “They told me if I ever had a chance to and reasonable justification to while you were in this cage to take you out,” the Deputy Warden says, raising his gun. “And you’ve just given it to me. Should be worth a nice bonus.”

  I close my eyes and wonder what will happen to Kerri after I’m dead. Will the Deputy Warden go after her as a witness?

  “Say goodbye conv—” he begins, but stops all of a sudden.

  Maybe I didn’t hear the gunshot, but I see it’s effects. Blood gurgling out of his mouth and the corrupt jailer falling forward.

  And behind him, standing with a raised gun, is Kerri Curtis. Sweat covering her face. Clothes wrapped around her tightly.

  If we weren't in so much danger, I’d want to fuck her right now. Even with the cut on my head.

  Instead, I stand there as she comes toward me and grabs my hand.

  “Come on,” she says with an urgent whisper. “We have to get to that tunnel and get out of here.”

  I say nothing as I follow.

  Toward something I thought till this day was unimaginable.

  Toward freedom.

  Toward a life with the woman I love.

  Toward the first day of the rest of our lives.

  Kerri

  I think back to the events that led us here a little over an hour ago as Lucien opens the door to the motel.

  It started with the insane few hours that saw Lucien and I head into the dead Deputy Warden’s office. And sure enough, behind the bookcase there was a passageway. Built most likely when the prison was first constructed, it was designed for administrative staff to leave if there ever was a prison riot.

  The Deputy Warden must have been maintaining it for a while because we were able to follow the path all the way down to the other side. It took us nearly half an hour of walking single file down that tunnel, but it deposited us more than two miles away from the prison and out of range of any police vehicles or state troopers.

  We made our way toward the nearest town and that night checked into a motel.

  He hid for a moment as I picked up some clothes from a local Ross and brought them back to him.

  We’re finally inside the motel room and I breathe a sigh of relief. My heart rate is still racing, but its no longer from fear.

  Despite everything – the prison break, the cops, the kidnapping, everything, there was one thing somehow that I wanted now more than anything else.

  Lucien’s cock.

  No more stretchers. No more trying to hide my moans and screams. This time we have a proper bed and, at last, I can scream my lungs out. This is it, no holds barred.

  Lucien takes one step toward me and, his hands on my waist, he pushes me back against the bed. My knees meet the edge of the mattress and I sit down on it; he pushes me on the shoulders and I fall back, the mattress molding to my figure. I feel my mouth going dry as he climbs on top of me, his biceps bulging under his shirt.

  “I love you, Kerri,” he says, his lips just inches away from mine. He’s so close to me that I can almost hear his heart beating. And these three words… Has any sound more beautiful ever been created?

  “I love you too, Lucien… Always.”

  “Always,” he repeats, my eyelids drooping as he presses his lips against mine. I feel my hard nipples brushing against the fabric of my bra, aching to be set free, and I push him by the shirt, forcing him to press his chest against mine. With him on top of me, we kiss in abandonm
ent, all the memories finally fading away—the anxiety, the danger, the memories of blood… It all goes away, and with just one kiss. No matter what happens, this kiss right here tells me that I made the right choice. I’ve never been one to believe in fairy tales, but Lucien… He’s the one, the man I’ve been waiting for all my life. And wherever the road leads, I’m going to walk it by his side, whatever the cost.

  I let my fingers slide under the hem of his shirt, my fingertips running over the warm skin on his back; he pulls back from my kiss then, just for the one second that it takes him to pull his shirt off. I swallow hard, the sight of his chest making me wet. I can already feel my thong becoming soaked, my fluids seeping through the fabric.

  He places his index finger over my lips, and gently runs it down my chin. I do nothing but look at him, his finger on me making a shiver go up my spine and then down again. He traces the contour of my chin, then going down to my neck and to the side, only stopping when his fingertip meets the straps of my dress on my shoulders. Gently, he pulls the right one down, and then makes the hike toward my left shoulder, doing the same there. I feel the front of my dress becoming looser, but it’s still covering my bra. Still, I breathe in deeply, patiently waiting for his finger to make his way toward my chest. Once there, he hooks it on the front of my dress and slowly pulls it down, my black bra jumping into sight.

  Thump, thump, thump, my heart is beating like a warm drum, his finger delineating the curve of my breasts against the cups of my bra. Spreading his fingers wide, he slowly flattens the palm of his hand against my right breast, a wave of delight surging through me. The pressure on my nipple is maddening, flames of desire spreading from it toward the rest of my body… God, he’s only grabbing my breast and I’m already breathing hard. Anticipation—never underestimate it.

  “Lucien,” I say, just wanting to feel his name on my lips. He looks at me, the dimples around his lips forming as he smiles.

  “I’m right here,” he whispers, hooking his fingers on the cup of my bra and slowly peeling it off. My rosy nipple jumps into freedom, my skin prickling as I anticipate the touch of his fingers.

  I breathe out deeply as he caresses my nipple, tenderly brushing one finger over the aching tip. He circles it with his fingertip, my chest rising and falling as I become oblivious to everything around me, my desire for him the only thing that matters in the whole world. With his thumb and index finger, he presses my nipple, and I moan abruptly, a spark of pleasure flying to my brain.

  He keeps applying that tender pressure until my moan turns into a quivering sound, and then he opens his hand and squeezes my whole breast. I bite my lower lip as he leans in, his slightly parted lips aimed at my nipple; he wraps his lips around it, sucking it into his mouth while his tongue laps at it. My hands run through his hair, disheveling it, and I arch my back at the same time, anxious to feel every single inch of his body.

  One hand still on his hair, I let the other fall to my chest, and I push down the cup over my left breast, baring my nipple. I curl my fingers around his hair and guide him to my other breast, his full lips immediately finding the way to my rosy tip. He sucks on it, and then gently nibbles it, that sweet electric spark travelling up and down my spine.

  With my fingers tight on his head I push him down, forcing his mouth against my breast. Just like that, he unleashes all his fury on me, grabbing my breast harshly and sucking as if he needed to do it in order to survive. I’m panting, needing to feel him right now: I raise my hips up from the mattress and, lacing my legs behind his back, I start to grind against him as the hemline of my dress goes up to my waist. He presses down at once, his crotch on mine, and I feel his hard length against my thong, just a few layers of fabric keeping us apart.

  He nibbles at my lower lip and bites on it gently, pulling it back; at the same time, he lets one hand of his slide down my side, and he pulls his crotch up from mine. Then, sneaking in the space between our bodies, his hands runs over my inner thigh and finds my drenched thong. He flattens the palm of his hand against my pussy, and I start to purr and moan, thrusting my hips upward. Flicking his wrist, he rubs my pussy, sharp knifes of pleasure puncturing my mind. Oh, God, this is Heaven.

  Fireworks go off behind my closed eyelids as he pushes my tongue to the side, his index finger running over the length of my pussy. He presses his hands against my wetness, still rubbing his hand against my pussy as his fingers threaten to go in at any time now. He keeps that threat hanging over me, moving his back up and down but never going for it.

  “Please,” I beg, curling my fingers around his wrist and trying to force him in. He shows me that devilishly sweet grin of his and slides two fingers at once, pushing them past my pussy and between my inner walls. I moan loud, his fingertips finding the way to that delirious spot inside of me, a trigger to pleasure. I arch my back as he pushes his finger against it, rubbing my g-spot while, with a turn of his hand, he places his thumb over my clitoris.

  My fingers fall from his wrist and, the moment I let go of him, he starts to destroy all of my nerve endings. Moving his hand back and forth, he starts to slide his two fingers in and out of me, his thumb rubbing my clit with the precision of a man who seems to know my body better than I do.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” He whispers against my ear, nibbling at it with his perfect white teeth. “It’s going to feel even better,” he continues, sliding a third finger inside of me. I explode, my brain melting inside of my skull as I scream as loud as I can. Oh, it feels so good to be able to scream until my throat hurts and glass shatters. To moan until I ruin my vocal chords and damage my eardrums.

  My hands on his back, I slide them down hurriedly, not even stopping when I meet the hem of his pants. I simply slide them under the fabric of his jeans, my fingers curling like claws on the hard muscles of his buttocks. As soon as he takes his fingers out of me, I pull him in, desperate to feel his thick bulge against my burning pussy once more. His crotch pressed tight against mine, I start to grind wildly, swaying my hips completely out of control.

  My fingers climb again to his back and, burying my fingernails on his skin, I claw at him. He doesn’t even respond to it; I’m probably clawing at him so hard that I’m drawing blood but. If he’s in pain, he’s simply not showing it. Or maybe it just makes him harder.

  No warning whatsoever, he rolls to the side, his hands grabbing my arms and pulling me into him. I go after his body, sitting up and climbing on top of him with the agility of desire. Straddling him, I start to sway my hips again, rubbing my pussy against the enormous bulging in his pants. I go fast, and I go hard, and by God, just grinding against him is almost enough to make me come again.

  I look into him, smiling as my body flows over his. He returns my gaze, resting his hand on my shoulders and sliding them down my arms as he tugs on the straps of my dress. He pulls it down harshly, the whole dress no more than a rope of fabric around my waist. Then, not wanting to waste any time, he takes one hand behind me and unhooks my bra with a quick flick of his finger. I don’t know how he does it. I take longer than he does to take my bra off, but I sure appreciate his skill. It just makes it all easier.

  Leaning into him, I move my body from side to side, dangling my breasts right above his face, mercilessly teasing him. His reaction is swift and impatient: he reaches for my right nipple with his mouth, his lips hugging it tightly.

  I match his fury with my own, pressing my breast hard against his mouth. He doesn’t seem to mind, not one bit. Instead, he seems even more driven. He cups both my buttocks, thrusting with his crotch at me and pressing his trapped shaft between my thighs. This has lasted enough.

  I sit up, slightly moving back over his lap; a grin on my lips, I let my fingers slide down from his shoulders to his pectorals, my fingertips savoring the chiseled curves of his muscles, and then I carry over the ridges of his abs. I slow down as I approach the hem of his pants but, the moment I touch the rough fabric of his jeans, I can’t tease him anymore; as it is, I’m teasing myse
lf.

  With my fingers moving deftly, I unbutton his pants as quickly as I can, tugging hard on the fabric. His cock pushes back against his boxer briefs, immediately tenting them the moment I undo the last button. Even covered by his underwear, it looks so thick, and I can even see it pulsing… My heartbeat pounding against my eardrums, I press my hand over his cock, rubbing it up and down, up and down. It pushes back against my fingers, almost as it were trying to rip the fabric apart so that it could meet my skin. Letting go for a tortuous second, I grab both his pants and boxer briefs and pull them down his legs, taking them off and letting them fall somewhere over the edge of the bed.

  I turn my attention back to him, his cock proudly standing at attention, waiting for me. My hands goes up Lucien’s legs, my fingertips brushing against his groin; I take a deep breath and then curl my fingers around his thick shaft, the warmness of his member stoking the wildfire that already rages inside of me.

  Stroking him as slowly as I can, I lick my lips unconsciously, eager to have his cock in my mouth. I want to taste him, to feel his manly flavor coating my tongue and numbing my brain. Oh, I want so many things. I don’t know what he did to me, but since I met him sex is no longer… simply sex. No, now it’s an almost transcendent experience, something that stretches the outer limits of my conscience and pushes my body toward new territories. With Lucien, everything’s good… Everything’s perfect.

  And to think that I used to be such a nice girl. Now thoughts of being fucked as hard as possible fill my mind every waking hour, my pussy becoming wet every time Lucien's image flashes behind my eyelids. And I’m just talking about when I think of him… Because when I’m really with him… well, that’s just heaven.

  My mind weaving thoughts and images of Lucien's cock inside of me, I become even wetter than before, every single fiber in my body screaming for more. I almost push my thong to the side and simply ease myself down on his cock, but he moves before I can do anything.

  His hands on my buttocks, he makes me raise my ass and pushes the dress down my legs. Awkwardly, I step out of it, stopping my stroking motion just for the time necessary to undress. My thong goes next, his anxious fingers tugging it down; he slides it all the way down to my ankles and, before I can kick it off, he grabs it and takes it to his face. Looking at me mischievously, he breathes in my scent, and I find myself flushing.