"Is there anything left?" "Nothing," I said, sifting through the ashes. Everett came up behind me, clutching his broken fingers. "Why hasn't the fire department or the police shown up?" "He probably bought them off," I said. "He probably owns half the cops in town." "Is he that powerful?" "You know he is." I pulled a bottle of white wine from under the ash, and started pouring it on the embers that were still glowing. "No one is coming." I had always known that one of two things would be the death of me, either my arrogance or my taste in men.
In this case, both of those glaring flaws had started to rear their ugly heads. "Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair," Donovan said after bandaging his leg.
"Do you have a plan on where to go from here, Ms. Jones?" "Looking back on it, I'm just surprised we got this far." As my eyes panned across the piles of ash, I knew that I could never rebuild. However, as more sinister thoughts filled my head, I suddenly realized just how much I had changed, from the person I used to be.
One month earlier… "What the fuck is this shit?" I said, as I threw my book down onto the table. "It's so hard to find good smut, these days." The couples and families at the other tables all looked at me strangely, peering over their crystal glasses and overly ornate centerpieces, before returning to their meals.
"They shouldn't be out in public if one f-bomb makes them cringe." The book lying on my table, which had gotten soaked when it knocked over my water glass, was simply titled, "Wet Lips". It hadn't started out spectacularly, but I thought it would be fun enough to keep me entertained, while I ate my lunch, alone. Unfortunately, the book only got worse the longer it went on. "I should have known. The girl falls for her therapist.
Who would write smut about a therapist, anyway?" "The real question is, who would read it?" I almost jumped out of my seat, not just at the unfamiliar voice, but also at realizing how loudly I had been talking to myself.
It was an embarrassing habit. "Do you always eat alone?" asked the man standing over me. I could feel my face turning red, but I managed to keep my composure. "Sometimes. Do you always interrupt other people's meals?" "Sometimes." He paused only to pull out a chair and sit down at my table, before continuing. "What's your name?" I wasn't normally in the habit of talking to strange men, but something about him was magnetic.
"It's BJ." "Really?" he asked, almost like he didn't believe me. "Yes.
And you?" "You can call me Carter." "Really? That's your name?" "It's what you can call me." As much as I want pretend I was immune to him, Carter's voice just did something to me that I can't explain. As I sat at the table with him, my mind was filled with thoughts of sliding under the table and unzipping his… well, that was just a thought. "You know, I have a hotel room not far from here," he said, smug and confident.
"Do you really think I'm going to go home with a stranger?" "Have you done it before?" ". . That's not important." I remember the next moment so vividly. That moment was the first time he smiled at me. I'm still angry that I let him draw me in. Maybe it was his dimples or perhaps the way he spoke, with charisma and class woven into every fiber of his being.
"What's your game here?" I asked him, bluntly. "What did you come looking for when you swaggered over here?" He smiled, once again. As he leaned forward, over the table, I bent down to let him whisper in my ear, and felt him, ever so gently, using just one finger to tug the neckline of my dress.
"I only have one goal," he said, full of that same unshakable confidence. "You're going to spend the night with me, and when you wake up the next morning, you'll find your legs wide open and your, I'm assuming, very tight pussy pleasantly sore." I pulled away, covering my face as it turned bright red. I once again saw the nearby patrons looking at me, and I was terrified that they had heard him talk about doing those things. It was embarrassing, but also, somehow, thrilling. I could feel a wet spot growing on the chair beneath me, but, despite that, I still found myself telling him, "No." "Really?" "I don't fuck guys I just met," I told him.
"And I especially don't let them take me away, if I don't know them." He looked at me, quizzically, for a moment, but soon changed his attitude. "I probably wouldn't be as attracted to you as I am, if you weren't smart." "It's a curse," I said, throwing my book into my purse, as my own wet lips ached.
He pulled a black device from his pocket and typed on it for a few seconds, before handing it over to me. "Text me, later," he said, as I realized he had just handed me my own phone, after putting his number in it. "You really should use a passcode, by the way." He walked away, his strong shoulders shifting with every step and tugging at the fabric of his suit.
The final thing that I saw, before Carter walked out the door, was him pulling something out of his pocket. It was a pair of silver aviators, which he slipped on before waving to me once and leaving. I felt more and more self hatred washing over me, the further away Carter got.
I fought to keep my hands from instinctively moving straight down to my cunt, which felt painfully empty. "Ma'am," said the waiter, pulling me back to reality.
"Do you need anything else?" "The check, please. It's getting a little too hot in here, for me." By the time I stepped out of the restaurant, the entire table I'd been sitting at smelled like sex, so I ducked out as quickly as I could. I got anxious at the thought of getting back to my limousine, because I had a few things tucked away in there that would help me work out my dirty thoughts.
"How was your meal, Ms. Jones?" asked Donovan, as I stepped into the car. I'd told my driver that he was too formal, multiple times, but he insisted on calling me that.
"Fine." "Am I taking you straight home, or is there somewhere else you'd like to go?" I pulled out my phone, after hearing it go off, in my purse. "Straight home," I told Donovan, before reading a text from Carter, which contained the address of an expensive hotel, downtown. "But, I may be going somewhere, later." "I'll keep the engine warm." I pulled a half empty bottle of champagne from the mini-fridge, and jettisoned my underwear as soon as my phone was put away.
My bra came only seconds later. I was a pretty fast learner, as well as dexterous, so it had only taken me a few years of living "the good life" to learn how to slip off my bra with one hand, while guzzling alcohol with the other. I didn't put the bottle down until it was empty, quickly tossing it next to the others, while I searched for one of my toys. A private company owned the limo, but it was kept on retainer, exclusively for my personal use. There were wine and champagne bottles all over the place, stains on every seat and, underneath several piles of junk… "There it is." I was pleased to feel the familiar hum, as I tested the batteries on my favorite vibrator.
It certainly wasn't my biggest, but the five inch device was easy to hide, and had another branching section for teasing my second hole, though I didn't plan on letting any man in there, anytime soon. Carter still had me so turned on that I was dripping wet, and my little toy slipped inside without one second of grip or hesitation.
As I leaned back on the leather seats, I could feel my nipples growing erect, as the black silk of my dress rubbed across them. I gripped one between my fingers, twisting gently as I pulled out the throbbing device, so I could use it to tease my clit.
"Ms. Jones, would you perhaps like to close the partition?" asked Donovan, who had a clear view of what I was doing, from the rear view mirror. "You could always pull over and join me," I told him, but his only response was to close the blind, himself. "Well, that ruined the mood," I said to myself, throwing my toy at the window. Admittedly, even I was a little grossed out when it left a wet spot on the glass.
I spent the next twenty minutes chugging from a bottle of white wine, as well as texting with Carter, and soon my phone was filled with pictures of a gorgeous suite he had rented on the top floor.
"You cumming over?" "Ms.
Jones?" "Yes?" I said, as Donovan pulled me out of my daze. "We're here." He climbed out and opened the door, spilling my drunken ass all over the walkway. "Are you kidding me?" I picked myself up, after kicking off my heels, leaving them out in the yard. "I'm fine, driver. I'll be-" Just as I felt myself about to plunge back to earth, Donovan, in a single motion, pulled me into his arms.
"Oh, my." "Don't get used to this." He carried me inside, and all the way to my bedroom. Whether it was out of genuine concern or if he just thought it would be quicker than letting me walk, I still don't know, but I can definitely tell you that there was only one thing on my mind as his masculine arms threw me onto the bed.
"Are you going to join me?" "No." I grabbed his arm before he could walk away, still splayed out across the bed, lying on my back and looking up into his eyes. "Hold me." I flashed him my softest gaze, letting my big, soulful eyes do all the talking, and for just a moment, I know he wanted to pull me close to him.
But it was only for a moment. "Get some sleep, Bailey." And then I was alone, yet again. It was nothing I wasn't used to, living the white collar life. In fact, I'd even found my own special treatment for my boredom, and it sat in a wooden box on my nightstand. I know what you're already thinking, and no, it wasn't a sex toy. Although, I have the same rule for blunts that I do for dildos and men. If it's not at least two fingers thick, it isn't worth my time.
I laid back, staring at the same white ceiling I'd been staring at for five years.
Every week, the cleaners came through and made the whole house spotless. They even scrubbed the ceiling, so I couldn't take pride in leaving a nice yellow smoke patch above my bed, like in my last place.
I rode around in a limo that cost three thousand dollars per day to keep on retainer, wore a ten thousand dollar dress and lived in a mansion worth one hundred million, and yet my only solace was thirty dollars worth of ditch weed. "You coming over?" Carter asked, via text. "Damn, you're really desperate to get me in bed." "You wouldn't still be talking to me if you didn't want it, too." I threw my phone across the room, pissed off and turned on, simultaneously.
"Goddammit," I said to myself, before finally picking up the phone and going out to the car. "Donovan, I need to go downtown." If I had known that that would be the last time I would ever see the inside of that house, I might have acted differently.
I mean, I still would have left, I was miserable there, but I would have gone back to swipe the good china. Half an hour later, I was, once again, sitting in the back of the limo, my heart racing as I anticipated our arrival. "You really should let me look this guy up, before you meet up with him." "Are you jealous?" "No.
I'm afraid Pacific Elite will fire me, if I get our best client killed," he said, jokingly. At least, I hope he was joking. "If you're afraid for your job, maybe I should just buy the limo service. It'd probably be cheaper than renting you, every day." Donovan laughed, which happened only on rare occasions.
"I don't think that's an option. Plus, I can dump you off on another driver, if you ever become too big a handful." "How am I a handful?" "Well, the heavy drinking, making me drop you off to meet strange men in a hotel and masturbating in the back of the limousine all come to mind," he said, pulling over.
"But, for now, I'm still required to be at your service, so welcome to the San Muerte Hotel, Ms. Jones." I gave him a dirty look, as he opened the door for me. "I'll be right outside." "You're a driver, not a bodyguard," I said. I strode up to the doors, hoping to get away before he could respond. However, at the last moment, I turned to him and said, "Text me if you find anything." I felt strange, as I walked into the lobby.
It wasn't often that I felt underdressed. After all, my jewelry collection was worth more than a mid-sized house. However, I began to feel like nothing more than an unwashed heathen, as I looked at the ornate flooring, tall pillars and the fashion sense of the hotel patrons around me.
Although, it's also possible that I felt unrefined because I was blazed, tipsy and not wearing underwear.
It's hard to say. "You must be BJ," said a man in a dark suit, approaching me. "Carter is waiting for you." "Oh, ok then." I followed the man to the lobby's VIP elevator, and noticed at least six more men wearing identical suits, all patrolling either inside the lobby or at the doors and windows.
"Is he a Senator or something?" "What was that?" "Nothing," I said, quickly pulling out my phone. Just to be on the safe side, I started a text to Donovan with the word 'HELP' and the floor we were heading to, as well as a warning about all the guards.
I really had no idea what I was getting into, or if one paranoid limo driver would be able to save me if this went bad, but it made me feel a little better knowing that all I had to do was press SEND, and he would come for me. I expected the elevator to dump us out in a hallway, but it opened directly into a suite.
There was a full kitchen, living room and a balcony, but it wasn't the room that drew my eye. Carter was looking out of a far window, holding a crystal drinking glass and wearing the same suit I had seen him in earlier.
However, as he turned to see who had entered the room, I saw that he had gotten rid of his tie and unbuttoned most of his shirt, exposing the smooth skin of his chest. "BJ.
I'm glad you came." "Well, you only live once." He chuckled. "Would you like a drink?" "No thanks." He walked over to me, close enough that I could smell the whiskey in his hand and count all four buttons he had undone. It took everything I had not to reach out my hands and run them across his pecs, fingering every line and contour of his muscular frame.
The thought of pulling apart the hem of his shirt, to let my hands glide over him was almost too much to bear. "You invited me over here for a reason, didn't you?" I asked him, not feeling quite brave enough to initiate.
"I'm in no rush," he told me, taking a sip from his glass and moving over to the balcony. "Come on. You should see how amazing the view is." I walked out the door, joining him as he looked over the city. "San Muerte.
It's a beautiful city, isn't it?" "From a distance." He looked over at me, trying to read my expression. "You don't like it?" "It's just boring," I told him, honestly. Carter paused for a moment, looking back and forth between the skyline and my hourglass figure, covered only by the thin material of my little black dress.
"Have you ever heard how the city got its name? The Spanish and the native tribes named it after this one British Captain, who led an expedition into Spanish territory. He crossed into this land, guns blazing, because he had heard that on this site, right where this city stands, the Spanish had discovered a city made of gold." I pulled Carter's drink away from him, and took a sip.
"Sorry. This was how I got through history class, back in high school." Carter smiled. "He marched across the land, with his eyes set on glory, and he seized or pillaged whatever he needed, whenever he needed it. Obviously, he didn't find the city, but there was no way he was going to let the Spanish get away with fooling him. Before the armada finally arrived and drove him off, he slaughtered an entire colony and poured salt on the land, becoming known as the Saint of Death." Carter leaned back on the guard rail, as he looked over at me.
"And yet, you call this place boring." "If anything that exciting was happening in modern San Muerte, I wouldn't have to." He casually strode over to me, placing his lips against mine for just a small moment, long enough for him to steal back his whiskey glass.
"My dear, you have no idea what's going on in this city." He went inside, without another word. He didn't even ask me to follow him. He just knew. "What are you…" I started to ask, as I saw Carter throw his jacket aside, and slowly remove his shirt. "Like you said, I invited you here, for a reason," he said, as I approached him. "Do you remember what that is?" With two flicks of his wrist, he knocked the straps from my shoulders, letting my dress fall into a pile at my feet.
I quivered as the silk rushed across my skin. In that first moment I felt cold and exposed, waiting for his response to my naked form, but in the second, I witnessed a hunger grow in his eyes, and I realized something.
On some level, I'd always known it, but his cool demeanor had been such a good cover. Carter wanted me as much as I wanted him, or maybe even more.
"Hold on," I said, as he reached out for me, his hands moving straight for my hips. I pushed them back to his side, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, as my breasts pressed against him and his stubble tickled my cheek. "I'm in no rush." I saw Carter grit his teeth in frustration, but he was obedient, and he certainly didn't complain as I kissed my way down his neck, across his toned shoulders, down his torso and all the way to his belt.
I placed a quick kiss on the snake trying to poke out of his trousers, before unclipping and yanking off his belt, in one quick motion. "I've had a lot of practice," I told him, as I quickly undid his zipper. Seconds later, his pants and boxers were lying beside my own clothing, now just a heap of fabric that we had no use for. It seemed strange that I had only met that man earlier that morning, and yet, upon seeing his erect cock before me, twitching as waves of lust made him ache, I felt like an addict after years of withdrawal, finally giving in to their dark desire.
The craving was indescribable, and my mind cried out in lustful longing, wanting to receive everything this man could give me, every thrust, every inch and every drop. "Fuck," I heard Carter whisper, as I took him into my mouth.
I could tell he was impressed that I swallowed all of him so easily, but the growing pool of moisture dripping onto the floor below me made it perfectly clear why I was so eager. I pulled away to catch my breath, before kissing my way along the thick vein that ran all the way down his shaft.
I felt his powerful hands grip my cheeks, and guide me back to his head, before gently placing himself inside of me, once again. He loved the sensation as my lips ran up and down, and my tongue teased his head. I loved knowing that this strong and very able bodied man was stark naked and moaning at my touch, that he needed me to run my hands across his muscular body and take his member inside of me, for his own sake. I loved becoming his addiction.
As if in line with my thoughts, I felt him gently remove me from his cock, before lifting me upwards. "I've never had a woman make me wait." "Carter," I told him, with unshakable certainty.
"You've never met a woman like me." He pulled me close and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He had no trouble carrying me, as he walked to the bedroom. My lips didn't part from his, until he finally threw me down onto the bed. He climbed on top of me, but, just as his manhood came within inches of my waiting cunt, I held him back with a gentle push and a coy smile.
"I'm in no rush." "Shut up," he said, with a smirk as devious as mine. "You no longer get to pretend that you don't need me to fuck you." I gasped twice, in quick succession. The first was from his boldness, and Carter's ability to both read my heart and open my legs, as easily as a book.
The second came when I finally felt him pressing his head against me. Though I was soaking wet, my pussy refused to open up to him, at first. I was filled with frustration, as my cunt failed to take his full length as easily as my mouth had, but each thrust brought him just a bit deeper and deeper, and then deeper still, until, finally, I felt the fullness that I had been craving, since the moment I laid eyes on him.
"Fuck me, harder. Please," I said, a slave to the sensation. "I need it." Those were the last words I could muster, before blinding pleasure overwhelmed me. I wrapped my legs around him once again, as Carter pounded my tight pussy, and he only seemed to be gaining momentum, as we continued.
"God, you're so tight." Finally, he slowed down for a moment. He was already on the verge of cumming, and I needed just a slight respite, or else I knew I would be sore the next day. However, it became clear that that was going to happen no matter what, as he picked up speed, yet again. My wetness drenched his manhood, as my first orgasm took hold, and my nails poked right through his sheets.
When I finally came back down to earth, I held him closer and leaned up to his ear. "Do you like how tight I am, because I love how thick you are." I knew it wouldn't be much longer before this fuckfest went from pleasurable to sore, so I needed to help him along. It worked, and he only fucked me harder after that, his teeth grinding as he came closer. "Pour it out. I want your cum," I told him, now growing closer, myself.
I needed to get the timing just right, and so, as I saw the climax building up inside of Carter, I told him one last thing. "You'll be pouring your cum inside of a married woman." That was all he needed, and just as the warmth of his cum filled me to the brim, I felt myself cumming as well. My back arched as all my feelings overwhelmed me. It wasn't just the rush of my orgasm, but also how receptive I felt, once again. I loved how it made me feel, not just to cum with him, but to feel all of him pouring out, inside of me.
"That's… that's perfect."