I whispered, “Yes,” wanting her touch, strangely wanting to please her and was rewarded when she lazily stroked the side of my throat with her tongue.
"As long as you know it doesn't matter whether you enjoy this or not. You exist for my amusement. Not your own."
Sure, but I for damn sure intended to get some enjoyment of my own.
She finally pulled out of the lot, and we rode in silence for several long minutes.
The car was library quiet, her light, steady breathing the only thing keeping me centered. I listened to it and inhaled her vanilla musk to ground myself in her reality.
My fingers itched to take off the blindfold and see where we were going, see her, but I kept my cuffed hands balled and in my lap, nails digging half-moons in the palms as we finally came to a stop.
She turned off the car and I felt her turn to me. “I'm proud of you, Detective. You're taking this all very well. Now, I need you to do one more thing for me..."
I reached for the tie before she caught my wrists.
"You'll have to trust me and let me lead you up to my apartment."
"Blindfolded? What if someone—"
"I'm not worried about anyone else. Neither should you be."
I bit back a retort.
"If it's any comfort, we're in an underground garage, and it's just a few yards from my car to the elevator."
"It's not any comfort."
"Having second thoughts?"
She wanted me to say yes, expected me to, but I never did what anyone expected me to.
"Passive aggression will get you nowhere."
She got out of the car. I waited several beats as she came around to my side, opened the door, and reached in to unlatch my seatbelt. She took her time retreating, making sure that her luscious tits brushed my arms and everything in between.
I got out of the car.
She silently hooked an arm through mine and led me toward the elevator.
I wondered if anyone would step off the elevator when the door opened, wondered what they would think of the picture we made.
The door opened, and Tally drew me forward. We silently rode up, twenty flights by my count, without stopping. After we walked down a long corridor, I heard her unlock a door, and we finally entered what I assumed was her apartment. Her scent was everywhere, the sweet musk engulfing me.
Still, she didn't speak, just led me inside by the cuffs. I knew enough not to say anything, but I wondered when she would bring up the issue of a safe word.
"You're wondering what I have planned for you."
She had the uncanny ability to know what I was thinking even without being able to see my eyes. “I know what you have planned for me."
"Really? Tell me."
"You'll do to me as much as I let you do."
"You place a lot of trust in me, don't you?"
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"
"It's not that simple, Luke.” She circled me, taking the jacket from my arms and stopping in front of me to unbutton my shirt. “Still, you bring up a timely subject—that of a safe word."
I stopped myself from grinning, didn't miss that she called me by my Christian name for the first time since our encounter began earlier in the evening. She'd been keeping her distance, calling me “Detective” and “prisoner."
Was she showing chinks in her Domme armor already?
I stood where she left me, listened as she moved around the room, doing God only knew what until she came back to me, took my cuffed hands, and placed my palms against her warm, naked breasts.
I resisted the temptation to fondle them, following her lead and letting her do with my hands as she wished.
She lowered my hands and removed the cuffs. “I think keeping in the spirit of our relationship, I'll pick a safe word for you.” She stepped behind me to remove my shirt and undershirt, circling my erect nipples with a fingernail when she was done. “How about ‘Dad'?"
I frowned, heart stuttering.
"You don't like my safe word?"
I shrugged, with an indifference and self-assurance I didn't really feel.
"What did I say about verbalizing?"
"It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."
"Hmm...” She undid my pants. “Toe off your shoes."
I did, and she stripped me of everything below the waist until I was standing as naked as I assumed she was standing before me.
Shit, I wanted to see her, needed to.
Tally confirmed my suspicion when she took my hand and guided it to the sultry heat of her shaved pussy. “You want to taste me."
Anticipating her sweet, tangy cunt, I licked my lips. “Yes."
"Later.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pressed herself against me, sighing as her lush, soft curves merged with my hard ones. “Mmmm, we don't have the time constraints to deal with this time that we did our last time together. I didn't get to explore and enjoy your body then the way I wanted to."
"Or vice versa,” I murmured, and she instantly pulled back. I prepared myself to have my balls or hair tugged, but she didn't touch me. In fact, she moved away from me completely.
"Inasmuch as our couplings are concerned, your enjoyment is irrelevant and but a side effect that I may or may not allow."
I jerked my head toward the tone of her voice, off-putting and stern and originating at least five feet away from where I stood.
"Come to me, Detective."
I hesitated, didn't want to show any weakness despite the dynamics of our relationship.
"Follow my voice."
Still I didn't move.
"Don't you trust me?"
Damned if I knew why, but I did.
"Do you want to use your safe word?"
"No, Mistress,” I stated. I shouldn't have agreed to it so easily to begin with. It was something I wouldn't likely forget, even under duress, but it wasn't a word I relished saying.
I wondered again why she'd chosen it. Did she know about my father? Did she know he had bitten a bullet in front of me and died a disgraced vice cop on the take?
I'd grown up wanting to be a cop, promising myself that I would be a better cop than my father had ever been. I would be a better man.
Had my father ever gotten off on submission, let any of his prostitute informants cuff him? Had he ever been blindfolded by a Domme and liked it?
I wondered at his leanings now more than ever, wondered if I had inherited any of them, especially the self-destruction.
Right now, my body only craved what Tally offered. I wanted the torture, my due for my secret betrayal, my due from a long legacy of betrayers.
She came back to me, hooked her arm through mine in an achingly familiar move, and led me down a short hallway to another room.
"The blindfold stays on, Luke,” she whispered when she stood on her toes to kiss the side of my neck. “I want you to feel. Not think, not see, not even touch."
With this, she shoved me back onto a bed and climbed on to straddle me. I shuddered as she reached between my legs and scraped her short blunt fingernails across my testicles before fondling them with excruciating tenderness.
She slowly moved up my body, caught my wrists and raised them above my head. I listened as metal clanked against metal and expected to feel the cold steel of cuffs around my wrists again before a pair of Velcro cuffs were fastened around each wrist instead.
Tally moved down my body and cuffed each ankle to the bed, leaving me completely powerless and at her disposal as she got up.
I listened to her pulling out drawers then several moments later pushing them back in, assumed she must be getting out the big guns for me. She came back to the bed, the mattress sinking beneath her weight as she climbed on, and eased herself over my face.
Her scent was concentrated, and I naturally stuck out my tongue to catch a sample.
She slid back to sit on my chest, the smooth globes of her round ass feeling right against my naked chest, not suffocating at all. “I know
I said I didn't want you to think, but there's something I have to tell you, Luke."
Play it cool. “What?"
"I've been watching you."
"Really?” What I wanted to ask was how long and why.
"I know about your past ... your father."
A search at the library or even on the Internet could net her the basic details about my father's death, or just plain department hearsay. What else?
"You've had a hard life, haven't you?"
"No more than anyone else.” Where was this going?
"We both know that's not true.” She rose up on her knees, astride my face, cunt just out of reach of my lips, giving me enough room to breathe in her scent or speak if I wanted to. “I want you to know I sympathize with you. I've had a hard life too."
"Is this why you brought me here, to swap tragic childhood stories?"
"I brought you here to free you, to free both of us."
She moved down and thrust her tongue into my mouth to mate with mine. We kissed for a long time before she pulled back, panting.
"I had my doubts about you even though I knew we'd be good together."
"What are you talking about?"
"Did you know your father knew my mother?"
This was getting too weird. She was all over the place, and her oddness should have been an instant ice shower on my lust, but I remained erect.
I pulled against my shackles, knowing it would be as useless as convincing my dick to heel. “Uncuff me."
She continued as if I hadn't spoken. “She was a stripper on your dad's beat and he couldn't resist sampling the goods."
I growled. “Let me out of these cuffs now, Tally."
"Are you forgetting who's in charge here?” She fisted my hair to get her point across. As if I didn't already get her message. I was fucked, and I had no one else to blame except myself and my rampant libido.
"I don't want to hurt you, Luke. That's not why you're here."
The ending of Basic Instinct flashed through my mind, and I swallowed, waiting to feel the sharp edge of her knife in my chest. When I didn't, I asked, “Why?"
"When I was assigned to Connelly in an undercover sting operation, I got the idea to make contact with you, to ... kill two birds with one stone and purge some ghosts."
"You're I.A.” So the investigator was being investigated?
She murmured, caressing my chest as if to comfort me. “And the shoot was righteous. But then you know that already."
"Why this big production? You want revenge?” I needed to look into her eyes, see her face!
"I started out just wanting closure and..."
"And?” My cock was surprisingly hard, painfully stiff. I still wanted her. There must be something primal about fear for one's life fueling physical desire.
"And I wanted you to know you were wrong about me."
Deep down, I had already known, had already made up my mind about her innocence. But she was taking a big chance trusting that I was as on the up and up as she was and that I wasn't like Connelly or my father. “So what do Connelly and my father and your mother have to do with us?"
"It would seem nothing, but Connelly shares your father's preferences for female informants and coworkers and, shall we say, bending the rules where his job is concerned. But then you knew that too."
"And that's why you made contact with me? You think I'm like Connelly?” Like my father.
"No. I made contact because I felt like I knew you. That you were—"
"An easy mark? A freak?"
"If you don't stop being so defensive and interrupting me, Detective, I'm going to gag you.” I heard her take a deep breath before she continued. “I thought that we ... vibed."
"In a Domme-sub way.” I pulled against the shackles on my wrists again.
"Is there any other way?"
"Why this?"
"What can I say? It's my kink. I like being in control. Maybe it's because my mother wasn't for most of her life before she ... died."
I knew in that moment that her mother had ended her own life too. “I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
Was her mother one of the causes behind my father's professional downfall? I needed to ask one of my uncles or older brothers. They'd know for sure. Problem was getting them to talk. It was a nasty wound, long closed. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. “And this sting operation?” I asked.
"You haven't exactly been forthright with me.” She moved up my body and straddled my face again, teasing me with the sweet-tangy scent of her cunt. “Isn't that so?"
"I never lied to you. Besides, I couldn't exactly tell you I was using you, using the shooting to get to your partner."
"I couldn't tell you that I'm investigating Connelly."
"You're telling me now. What's changed?"
"I have because you trusted me..."
I heard the hesitation in her husky voice, waited for the rest.
Finally, she whispered, “We're on the same side, Luke."
We were both investigating the same cop—her from the inside me from the outside. I felt better about being with her because of this, but realized I would want to fuck her regardless. Jesus, what did that say about my ethics, my lust for her? That I was more like my father than I wanted to admit?
"I just wanted to clear the air before we do this.” She lowered her pussy over my mouth, and I inhaled deep as her essence surrounded me. “But enough talk..."
She didn't give me a chance to disagree, like I actually would with her soaked cunt, a testament to how turned on she was, hovering an inch from my lips. Whether her excitement grew from the verbal catharsis, our sparring, or from having my head between her legs was anyone's guess.
I plunged my tongue as far as I could without being able to spread her pussy lips with my hands, my progress hampered not for lack of trying.
I felt like I had something to prove, like I owed her for her loss. But if this was true, then who owed me for mine?
Tally rocked against my face as if to get my mind back on what I was doing. Her juices spilled into my mouth as I alternated between sucking and nibbling her clit and forcefully stroking my tongue against her vulva.
I groaned at the taste of her, and she responded in kind, speeding her movements, grinding her pussy against my mouth so hard I could barely breathe, much less do my job. She came on a hoarse shout, vibrating against my mouth and squeezing my head snug between her thighs.
I patiently waited for her spasms to subside, never felt as bereft in my life as when she pulled herself off me several seconds later.
She covered my body with hers then, still breathing hard and moist with perspiration.
I licked every inch of her I could reach with my tongue until she gifted me with the kiss I craved, the need to share her taste.
"You performed admirably, Detective, especially under the circumstances."
"I work well under pressure."
"We'll see about that."
Her cryptic tone made me think twice about going any further, but if what she'd confessed to me about my father, my past, and both our involvement with Connelly wasn't enough to make me use my safe word, I didn't think anything would.
Tally reached across me, the silken skin of her arm brushing against my face, and the next noise I heard made my cock stand at attention.
She slid something bulbous, cool, and smooth between my legs and beneath my balls.
My stomach clenched with unfamiliar longing as the thing vibrated against my anus.
"You have a beautiful ass, Detective, and I've wanted to do this to you since I followed you in the men's room."
She caressed my chest and thighs as if trying to calm a skittish stallion. It was a valiant effort but did little to quell my innate anxiety at the idea of being so totally penetrated.
She kissed me lightly on the lips and I willed my muscles to relax, anticipating both the pain and pleasure she'd bring. “Are you ready to take this further?"
Eve
n without being able to see her eyes, I could hear the double meaning in her voice—I was ready to take down Connelly and I was definitely ready to let her take me down, and down and down as far as this carnal rabbit hole would go. “I'm ready, Mistress."
The End
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About the Author
Gracie C. McKeever is an author from the Bronx and aside from several side trips along the way has lived and worked her entire life in the New York City area. She has been writing since the ripe old age of seven when two younger brothers were among her earliest, captive audience for various short story readings and performances.
An eclectic and voracious reader whose audience has grown outside of the supportive family members, she's had the great fortune of being able to incorporate two of her favorite passions and talents—reading and writing—as a book reviewer for several online magazines both as a regular staff member and freelancer.
In 2001, Gracie caught the erotic romance and erotica bug, sinking her teeth into her first erotic romance e-book for a solicited review, and hasn't looked back since. An instant affinity for the genre spawned her first erotic romance title, Beneath the Surface, published in 2006.
Visit Gracie at: www.graciecmckeever.com.
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Coming Soon
Immortal Love
By
J.R Mitchell
His straight posture and lean figure seemed to tower over me. Yet, he was barely two inches taller than my five feet, five inches. The shadow trailing behind him was long, as though it was being dragged forward, stretching itself like taffy, trying to crawl back from whence it came. The blue of his eyes was the color of old, salty seas wrinkled with frothing waves; they were a watery beauty in which I could drown. His shadow said as much about him as his eyes did—they were the truths of his appearance, proof that he was trapped on Earth long after his time had been spent. But they were wrapped in his handsome, youthful looks, and were not easily noticed. At first glance, he seemed to be a giant boy. It was the reason I looked again. His skin seemed so new, his face lacked imperfection, and his lankiness gave him an awkward, boyish stance.
Gray Badge of Trust [AP Shorts] Page 2