by Teagan Kade
“Ill intentions? I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“You don’t?”
His sharp response and the coldness in his voice make my blood boil. I take a gulp, pursing my lips together in frustration. I need to stay calm, but it’s pretty clear to me this call isn’t a friendly one. I need to keep up the act and string him along, at least for now. After all, he could have no evidence at all. This could be some sort of weird bad-cop routine to try and get information out of me.
“No, I don’t, Officer Brady. What is this all about?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit.
Well, there it is, all the confirmation I need to know he thinks I set the fire. Which I did, of course, but that doesn’t mean he has to know.
“No, actually,” I snap back at him. “I don’t. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped with the games. What’s going on?”
I hear a creak like he’s leaning back in a chair. He chuckles softly on the other end, a sigh escaping him before he speaks.
“Come on, Elisabeth, the fire department already declared there was no electrical mishap. You and I both know the fire was set intentionally.”
“What?” I say, my voice full of shock. To be honest, the shock is real. Sure, I knew the fire was set deliberately, but I didn’t know they already knew that.
“That’s right, you heard me. We already know the fire was set deliberately and not the result of faulty wiring, so why don’t you just tell me what you know?”
Okay, so they apparently know the fire was set on purpose, but they don’t know it was me. If they did, they would have already arrested me and I would be talking to Officer Brady through a holding cell right now, not over the phone.
The dumb and innocent act clearly isn’t going to fly anymore, so now I’m going for Plan B: the angry victim.
“Let me get this straight, Officer Brady,” I hiss. “You discover the fire, which nearly burned down my house with me in it, was purposely set, and your first instinct is to call and accuse me? Where do you get off?”
“Now hold on, let’s n—”
“No! You hold on, and listen to me,” I shout
I hear him huff on the other end of the line, and he stops talking for now, so I continue.
“I am the victim here. Do you understand that? What possible reason could I have to burn down my own house? And with me inside it? Jesus. Do you think I was trying to kill myself? Even if I wanted to, I sure as hell wouldn’t do it by burning my house down.”
He tries to interject, but I cut him off again and don’t give him a chance to speak, instead talking over him until he lets up. I decide to draw inspiration from my old drama class and pull out some fake tears, my voice starting to waver.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, do you hear me? I have been through hell the last couple of days, and you’ve been no help at all. First, you show up at the hospital when I’ve had barely any chance to rest or even process what happened. Then, the next time I hear from you it’s a phone call accusing me of setting fire to my own damn house! You didn’t even ask how I was doing! You just dove right into accusing me.”
“Elisabeth,” he pleads, “now just calm down and let me explain.”
He’s back-pedaling now. I smile. The plan’s working.
“Oh, no,” I interrupt. “it’s ‘Miss Montgomery.’ You don’t get to be on a first name basis with me after this shit, treating me like a damn criminal.”
He huffs. “Of course, Miss Montgomery. If I could just explain…”
“Explain what? That instead of taking the time to do a proper investigation, you’re using your resources to accuse the victim of the fire who almost died inside it of setting it herself? Can you even hear yourself? I’ve got half a mind to make a formal complaint, or go public with this.”
Of course, I’m not going to do either of those things—that would just increase the risk of me getting caught—but he doesn’t know that.
“I’m sorry, Miss Montgomery,” he says, on the retreat. “You’re right. I was out of line. We’re doing our best to try and figure this out and we always investigate everyone, homeowners included. It’s routine. I didn’t mean to come off the way I did. There’s no need to involve the media, all right?”
I can tell I’ve won this time by his tone, which has shifted from confident and cold to submissive and warm. He’s apologizing, back-pedaling on his initial statement. He’s practically begging me to let him off the hook. I’m in the clear, at least for now. I breathe a silent sigh of relief.
“Look,” I tell him, “I just want to know what happened to my house. If the fire was set on purpose, I need to know who by. I might be in danger. That’s not going to happen if you’re too busy wasting time insulting me.”
“You’re right, and again, I’m sorry. We’re doing our best to figure out what happened. We’re looking at all angles.”
I keep on him. “Excellent. Do you have any other accusations for me today, Officer Brady, or can I hang up now?”
I hear him clear his throat and smirk to myself, happy to have won this particular round—hopefully the final round.
“No, that’s all, Miss Montgomery. Thank you.”
I hang up the phone and groan without waiting for him to respond, placing it back down on the bed and leaning against the headboard. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself down, my heart rate finally slowing to something approaching normal.
That was way too close. I need to find out exactly what they have and what they know. I look at my phone and contemplate calling Derek, a pang of guilt hitting me hard in the chest.
Do I feel guilty about leading him on and using him for information? Of course I do, but what other choice do I have? The way I look at it, I’ve got two choices: I can string him along for a bit and use him to get the information I need to put myself in the clear and help my mother, or I come clean, get arrested, and go to jail.
I’m not about to choose option number two.
As if on cue, my phone rings again. I nearly jump clean out of my skin, the jitters from my previous phone call still very much alive and well.
This time, much to my relief, it’s Derek. I answer the call, smiling when I hear his voice.
“Hey you, sorry I had to leave like that this morning. I got your note.”
“It’s okay, I get it. Fires don’t wait. Got to save all those damsels in distress.”
He chuckles on the other line. I ask him to come over tonight before I lose my nerve.
“I’d love that, actually. I’ll see you around seven?”
“That’s perfect,” I reply.
We chat for a few minutes longer, then say our goodbyes. I hang up the phone, rising from the bed and walking over to the bathroom to turn on the shower.
I’ll get ready, Derek will come over, and I’ll get some more information out of him. My mind travels to the night before and I can’t help but smile, memories—albeit foggy ones—of his bed and what we did in it fast filling my thoughts.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DEREK
“Thanks for inviting me,” I say, settling onto the bed and taking off my shoes as I do so.
“Don’t mention it,” Beth says, sliding slowly but intently beside me. “When I heard you wanted to come over, I couldn’t help but agree. I wanted to see you again, you know.”
I peer down her shirt with a questioning look on my face, notice her cherry red lace bra peeking ever so slightly through her plunging V-neck shirt.
My cock immediately stands to attention. A dull, throbbing pull settles somewhere between my legs.
I need to fuck her, I think to myself. It’s a medical emergency.
I clear my throat, shift my legs so my rock-hard cock isn’t as obvious through my pants, and continue with my train of thought. “So, I thought you might like to know what I found out about the fire,” I begin.
Immediately, Beth gets defensive. “Why does everyone want to tell
me something about the fire?” she says, nearly screaming. “Do you really think I want to know who tried to burn my house down?”
I look at her quizzically. “Ah, yes. I would think so,” I say gently, trying to talk her back down from the ledge, before realizing there is more to the story than she’s letting on. “Is someone trying to hurt you, Beth? Tell me.”
She shakes her head violently before leaping off the bed, stripping her shirt away.
Her little striptease reveals she’s wearing a Cadillac-style bra that pushes her soft, ample tits up to her chest, a matching red garter belt with black fishnet stockings, and a pair of black crotch-less lace underwear.
Dear God in Heaven, I think to myself, my cock growing longer and harder by the second… and a lot more obvious. Forget the medical emergency. This just turned into life and death.
“I’m just so tense,” she says in a simpering, almost child-esque voice. “And when I get tense, I get hot. I’m sorry.” She covers up her chest in an almost-mocking gesture of modesty.
I stand up and take her in my arms, trying to reassure her. “If someone’s trying to hurt you Beth, you need to tell me right now,” I say, sliding my hands under the crease of her butt. “I need you to know that no matter how bad you think it is, I’m going to be here to help you. You can trust me.”
She sighs and, steadying her breathing, shifts her lower body towards mine. I can feel her pussy pulsating lightly through my acid-washed jeans. There’s no way she isn’t feeling my rock-hard member through the thin lace of that crotchless underwear.
“I appreciate that, Derek,” she says, her voice deepening an octave.
She’s definitely turned on, only needs the tiniest of pushes in the right direction to fuck me right here, right now, on the floor of the Mondrian, with nothing but the Hollywood Hills beneath us.
She smiles slightly, kissing me chastely on the cheek before turning away from me and towards the mini bar.
She bends down and shows off her flowering sex, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing this on purpose.
Come to think of it, I say to myself, I know she’s doing this on purpose.
“I just need something to help me through the stress,” she says, rifling through bottles of Jack Daniels, Johnnie Walker, and Jim Beam—The ‘Three Wise Men,’ as we used to call them in college.
She turns around to face me, a bottle of Johnnie in each hand. “Would you like a drink, Derek? You look like you could use a bit of stress relief yourself.” She starts to point the bottle of Johnnie in my direction.
I smirk knowingly and take both bottles of Johnnie away from her.
Nice try, Beth, I think to myself.
“You know, Beth,” I say, a slow smile spreading across my face. “I have a better way to relieve some stress, if you’re down for it. It’ll definitely take your mind off your problems.”
As if on cue, she jumps on me and shoves her tongue down my throat, kissing me with a passion that’s almost violent in its intensity. I return her sloppy wet kiss with one of my own and take it as an affirmative that she does, indeed, want to fuck me.
Scooting to the floor, I position my head between her legs so that, when I look up, I’m able to see her soft, shaved pussy, now glistening with arousal.
“Come here,” I say, summoning her to sit on my face.
She obliges, and I hear her breath quickening as I use my tongue to spread her pussy lips and lick her clit longingly. The tip of my tongue darts from her clit to the middle of her lips, the entire area getting slicker with each flick of my tongue.
All of a sudden Beth starts grinding her hips in a counterclockwise fashion so my tongue gets the rest of her soaking wet and she gets the full experience of my mouth on her warm, expectant pussy. Her moans ratchet up in volume. I start moving my hand to her mouth to cover it before we awaken our more conservative neighbors visiting from Idaho or Alabama or some other flyover state.
“Yes,” she moans, using her hands to glide my fingers in her mouth. She begins sucking on them with a fervent intensity, as though she needs to suck on me to simply survive.
Not that I mind being her savior of sorts.
I’m just ready for her to suck on something besides my fingers.
I shift my body so she’s now on the floor, pinning her down with my hands so she can’t move her hips. It only takes a few sweeps of my tongue over her slick heat to tip her over the edge. She comes, bucking hard against my face, moaning in ecstasy as I lick her clean. I take care to be extra gentle around her clit, knowing it’s particularly sensitive after a woman comes—especially when you come as hard as Beth just did.
Satisfied, I use my advantageous position to shift my pants off my body, and finally free my throbbing cock. I briefly glance down at it, noticing it’s not only pearly with pre-cum, but longer and harder than I’ve ever seen it before.
Well, what do you know…
I shift a little so that my cock dances lightly on her slightly parted lips.
“Suck,” I command.
Almost immediately she opens her mouth, unlocks her jaw, and—much like Jane did the night before Beth first came into my life—takes the entirety of my cock into her mouth.
Fuck me.
Unlike Jane, however, Beth doesn’t gag when the tip of my cock brushes the back of her throat. She’s a fucking pro.
She just keeps sucking, licking, and taking me down, and I am nothing if not impressed we’re making our own porn movie right here in the penthouse of the Mondrian. The view outside the window is certainly impressive, and I push back the curtains to further look down on the Hollywood Hills, positioning Beth’s body so her spread lips are facing the window, giving the passing planes and wild animals the view of a lifetime.
“Beth, I’m going to—”
I go to shift away, but her hand comes around the root of my cock, fixing me in position.
I let out a groan like a dying bull and release in her mouth, pumping hard.
She finishes, pulls back, and wipes her mouth, smiling as she does so. “Is that all?” she asks mischievously.
I return her naughty, cat-like glance with one of my own. “Question is, can you handle more?” I ask.
She looks down at my cock and smiles. “Where do you want to put that?” she asks, faking a coquettish accent.
“I don’t know,” I say, pulling her hips toward mine. I don’t beat around the bush. “I was thinking that beautiful ass of yours.”
She shifts her hips upward, pointing her ass out towards the tip of my cock.
Ass it is, then, I think to myself as I spit on my fingers, spread her ass cheeks, and slowly rub inside the delicate area around her anus.
Next, I add a finger, enjoying the tightness of her hole, the way it grips and sucks the digit inwards.
I add a second, noting the way she mews and moans in response, her hips rocking back to take more.
When I’m sure she’s ready, I take hold of my cock and slowly feed it in.
It’s so fucking hot it takes everything I have not to release my second load.
I feel her hand take mine and guide my fingers into her pussy, moaning.
I match each of my cock’s thrusts with one from my fingers, marveling at both the beautiful view outside the window and the beautiful view of her spreading, glistening pussy, and wide, perfect ass in front my eyes.
“Harder, Derek,” she demands, moaning, barely able to form complete sentences. “I want it all. Put it all inside me.”
She shifts her body again, allowing me to shove yet another finger inside her pussy. I groan as the last inch of my cock is swallowed up by her ass. She’s taken me whole.
Breathlessly she lifts her ass off my cock and stands up slightly, the tender lips of her sex swollen and cherry red. “Go clean up,” she commands.
“Why?”
“Because I want your cock in my pussy.”
I don’t have to be told twice. I head to the bathroom and grab the first thing I can
find to clean down my cock. When I jump back onto the bed she climbs over me, turning her hips around in a reverse-cowgirl position. “The other way now,” she says, trying desperately to catch her breath.
“How do you mean?” I ask, trying to make sure I understand her. “Just to clarify. You want my cock in your pussy?”
She nods, violently, in approval. “And I want your fingers in my ass,” she says, before obligingly placing my fingers against her asshole.
I can’t even protest before she’s sunk down on my cock, the silky heat of her sex a thing of beauty.
I press two fingers together and slide them forward deep into her ass.
She begins bouncing up and down my cock, grunting and moaning in delight.
I look down at my fingers in her ass, my cock in her pussy… It’s fucking sensory overload, the sights, the sounds…
I’m so turned on by this sight that in the middle of it all, I pull her off my cock drag her up to my face. I lick her from front to back, returning to concentrate on the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her sex while she grinds down on me.
I bury my face deep inside her pussy, unable to get enough of her taste, the sweet arousal running from her core.
She reaches down and grips my hair tight, screaming aloud as she comes again, arousal running fresh and free from her sex, my cock desperate to be back inside her.
She convulses, pulling at my hair until she’s spent.
But she’s not done.
She walks down my body and takes hold of my cock, sliding it back into herself, grinding and rocking until I can’t take a second more. She senses it, lifting herself from me and jerking me off.
“Come,” she says, eying me, “come all over my face.”
The words are enough.
I give a pained cry and release with unnatural force, shooting ribbon after ribbon of silky cum over her open mouth and tongue, her cheeks, coating her with my desire.
It seems endless, but she smiles through it, her tongue whipping up to lick her upper lip. “Mmmm,” she moans.
Holy. Shit.
Post-orgasm, I usually deflate, eager to get whoever’s in my bed out as soon as possible, but there’s none of that here with Beth. It occurs to me this is more than sex, as great as it is.