Torn Between- Seduced by the Billionaires Page 19
“Don’t. Ever. Say. That. Again.” Maralee was clear and severe with her warning. “What happened today didn’t happen. You need to think that way. I need to think that way.”
Dustin nodded, his whole body shaking as if a fever were taking hold of him. Maralee reached out her cool hand and placed it on the side of his face. He looked directly at her; his eyes searching for answers, his heart searching for love. The young woman leaned over and kissed him. She brushed her lips against his at first then wet them with her tongue and tried again, nudging and nurturing her way into a deep kiss.
He wrapped his arms around her, draining comfort from her touch as if it were the last barrel of water in the desert. Running her hands through his hair, she gave him small kisses on his neck, cheeks, and ears. He shifted positions, his burgeoning erection uncomfortable in the camouflage pants he had chosen for the hunt.
Effortlessly, she used his shoulders as a brace and turned them around until she was on the futon beneath him. Careful not to crush her like a butterfly under glass, he lifted his hips and held them in the air, leaning over only to kiss her. She rubbed the front of his trousers, searching for the zipper.
“Do you think this is a good idea? I mean, now?” he asked tentatively. Every fiber of his being wanted to be inside her, but his brain could not let go of the tension he felt from the barbs on the arrowhead he pulled out of the man he killed.
“Now is what we have, Dustin,” she whispered in his ear, the hot breath arousing him more. “We are made of now.”
Maralee slipped off her Burger Heaven uniform pants from the day before, hooking her thumbs in her panties and taking them down as well. Her shaved triangle was wet with desire. Dustin stared at it openly, having only seen a shaved woman in dirty pictures.
“You’re…um…bald,” he said. “I mean…that’s not bad it’s just…”
“I am open before the Goddess,” she said seriously. “I do not hide the temple of her power with hair.”
Like everyone in town, the boy heard Maralee was a flake and the goddess talk was nothing new for her, but to see her opening herself for him—raw and ready—sent him spiraling out of control. He unzipped his pants and pushed them to about mid-thigh, taking only a few seconds to find her opening with his finger, then guided the head of his cock inside her.
Maralee arched her back instinctively, wrapping her hands around his bottom and pulling him into her. The fullness of his penis in her channel, and wet, warm friction building in her core were everything she needed to fly away from the horror of the morning. She envisioned the Goddess in her mind’s eye, smiling down on her, soaking up the waves of energy as Dustin pushed into her hard and harder, again and again. The short puffs of breath landing on her breasts as he rammed her, his hands on her hips as his smooth guiding strokes carried them both off of the couch into comfort’s arms.
She felt him building in her, his cock thickening, his strokes halting, smacking against the skin of her bare nether lips. She pulled him harder, gasping for him to take her.
“Give it to me,” she said in a breathless, husky voice. “Give it all to me. Take me, Dustin. Take me hard, take me fast, take me away.”
“ARRRGHHHHH,” his release trumpeted through the small apartment. Realizing they hadn’t talked about birth control or anything else, he tried to pull out in time—only managing to spurt all over her vulva and the futon. He stammered with embarrassment. “You’ve got my DNA on you.”
“Well, that’s the worst after-glow line, ever.” She laughed, wiping up his seed with her hand. They stayed in each other’s arms for most of the day, alternately kissing, touching, or rubbing against one another—doing anything but talking. Finally, Maralee looked at her clock and jumped up, tossing his pants toward the futon.
“Cami will be here in less than an hour. You better go.”
“When can we…er…I mean…when can I see you again?”
“Never,” Maralee chirped as she pulled her pants back on, walking toward the door. She really wanted to clean up fully before her best friend got back and his presence made that difficult. Seeing the devastation in his eyes, she put her hand on his cheek, and pulled his face close to her. Her voice was a rose petal but her words were the thorns.
“An investigation will happen,” Maralee began. She gave him one sweet, final kiss. “Cops are going to talk to me. They are going to watch me and likely suspect me. You can’t be around. You can’t be anywhere near me. Don’t call, don’t come by, don’t write, don’t even pray about me. Go on. Leave this town. Live your life. And always know—you saved two lives today.”
The memory created a sly smile, and a round of fresh tears. Maralee walked back into the dining room and handed Cami her tea. What would her friend think to know that not only had she sheltered her father’s killer all these years, but she fucked him in their little, ratty apartment an hour after it happened? Would she understand?
“What do we do now?” Cami asked, grateful for the tea, and the truth.
“We go forward. I’m calling Eddie to tell him he is uninvited to my home for eternity, and to let him know I am aware of his attempt. I’m going to encourage him to call the police if he thinks I murdered my father, but remind him that the only thing he can prove is I have a bloody arrowhead in my closet. I can prove blackmail, breaking and entering, and invasion of privacy. He will back down.”
“If you do that, I can never see him again,” Cami reasoned, her feelings mixed. Her flirtation with the wild side of his lust wasn’t finished, but her recognition of his destructive power wouldn’t let her enjoy it.
“That’s the point, dear.” Maralee affirmed, picked up her cell phone, and dialed.
***
“You’re making a mistake, you murdering whore,” Eddie growled into his cell phone.
“Won’t be the first,” Maralee responded as Cami sat beside her on the couch, her hefty arm around the slight woman’s frame. She always thought of Maralee as small, like a frightened rabbit—needing protection. But her friend was much stronger in body and soul than Cami ever realized until now.
“I might not be able to get you arrested, but I’ll bury you in the speculation. The shame alone will kill your little shop, reputation, and standing in Grafton. When Camellia comes to me begging on her knees for some help, I will gracefully offer to pull you back out of the pit, for a price. My cock spearing your little asshole as you scream will merely be the deposit.”
“Reputation?” Maralee laughed cynically, besting her foe at every turn. “I’m the town witch! What can they say about me that hasn’t been said? As for Cami, I hope you have good memories of her on her knees, because that’s something you’re never going to see again.”
Cami winced when she heard her friend cut the cord with her “master” and lover. At the same time she felt her heart opening to Tyler more and more. Ever since the day he took her against the wall in his office, throwing caution and manners to the wind, her belief that she could find sexual satisfaction and love in the same man increased.
“This is not the end,” Eddie warned. The only response was the small click as the call completed.
“I miss old-fashioned phones.” Maralee turned to Cami with a smile. “Hanging up on some asshole never feels as good as it did when you could slam the receiver down.”
“He’s right, Mar. This isn’t over,” Cami warned. She’d seen the way Eddie played his games and knew he didn’t take loss well.
“Nothing is ever over,” Maralee replied wisely. “My father’s death is proof of that.”
***
Throwing his phone on the desk, Eddie picked up the house phone and called upstairs to The Wine Loft. A few minutes later Harold’s soft steps down the stairs were lost in the sound of spanking and thrash metal coming from the dark of The Spreader Bar’s main bar. Placing his hand over his eyes when the contrasting bright light of Eddie’s office stabbed him, Harold’s mouth fell open when he saw his boss setting a small trash can on fire.
“Change of heart?” Harold asked, but doubted. Eddie didn’t have a heart.
“Time for a new hand,” Eddie grimaced. “Several. Camellia has abandoned her post at my feet. She told her whore friend about the pictures and the set up here. All that work you did is shot to hell.”
“I must confess, I’m relieved. Breaking into Miss Snow’s house is not an action of which I am very proud.” Harold breathed a deep gasp of relief. “Maybe I will start sleeping at night again.”
Eddie harrumphed the idea. “Well, she might have won this round, but I have bigger and better cards than those two could ever imagine. By the time I’m done, Miss Snow, her slut friend, the Russian, and Ty Ty the Good Guy will all be in a hole together.”
“And…maybe not,” Harold sighed. “Did you want something particular or shall I just fetch the fire extinguisher before all the latex in this bar melts?”
“Where’s the Russian?” Eddie asked the flames in the trash, refusing to look at his employee while the bitter sting of Maralee’s power left traces of defeat in his eyes.
“In his lab, I imagine. I’ve called every number I can think of, and even made a trip over to Dyes to inquire as to how I could reach him. He’s not answering, and he’s not coming.”
“Well, then, as relieved as you are, you’ll have to see the town witch one more time,” Eddie grumbled, grabbing a notepad and scrawling a message in capital letters.
“Please, not kidnapping. That’s really not my forte. Get one of Steve’s bartenders to do it.” Harold’s attempt at humor failed in every way. Eddie folded the note and handed it to him with a frown so pronounced it looked like his lips might fall off of his face.
“Give this to the whore—the blonde one, not the traitor.”
“I take it we’ve seen the last of Miss Hill as well?” Harold queried. Eddie turned his back to him and kept dropping photographs into the trash, each one making the flames raise higher. Harold left in silence, refusing to look at the note until he got into The Wine Loft’s soft lights and safe setting. Steve put his hand around his partner’s waist and gently opened the note.
“TELL YOUR RUSSIAN PRICK TO BE AT THE SPREADER BAR AT 10 PM TOMORROW.”
“Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies,” Steve sang solemnly as he looked around The Wine Loft and then the stairs leading to Eddie’s dungeon play lounge. “Ashes, ashes…”
“We all fall down.”
***
“Gidget!” Eddie called from his door toward a waitress flirting a leather-clad man into another Long Island Iced Tea.
“Bridget, Mr. Dunning,” she said, her eyes never rising from the top of his shoes.
“Tristan says you’ll do anything to move up in the business. Is that right? You’re up for anything? You consent?” Eddie asked directly.
“Yes, Mr. Dunning,” the woman looked him in the eye and licked her lips seductively, her uniform corset and hose reflecting the harsh light of the doorway. Outside of the bar she wasn’t really a sub, but if a little lovin’ could make her a manager here, she was willing to do what it took.
“Then today’s your day,” he growled, taking her by the arm and closing the door behind him. Lowering the dimmer switch until they were nothing but shadows, he reached out and grabbed her by the front lacing of her corset and pulled her almost to his lips as she closed her eyes.
SLAP! The open-handed rocket blasted her face to the side, eventually knocking her off balance. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the couch, bending her over the high arm, as he ripped and pulled the cheap fabric costume from her body. Unzipping his slacks, he pulled out his cock, the purple angry head matching his disposition. Pinching her breasts with unrelenting sharpness, he pushed himself against her, holding his cock just inside her vaginal lips. Looking at the stunned waitress the way the wolf must have eyed Red Riding Hood, he asked her one more question.
“Still want to move up?”
“Yes, Sir,” Bridget cried, her head down, her ass up.
“Good girl,” he gurgled and plunged himself deep into her body. Her cry enlivened his passion and he withdrew only to enter her again, impaling her with his power. Bridget opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. Pummeling her with his cock, the roughness of Eddie’s thrusts smacked against her lithe body pushing all the air out of her lungs. For a time she tried to match his rhythm, to keep up with him, but he was too strong. The flesh inside her channel grew raw with the friction of his bursts and she felt as though any minute he may tear a hole in her body.
“You want this,” Eddie managed to say, his voice like steel. “You want my cock in you.”
“Yes,” Bridget gasped beneath him. She bit her lower lip and gripped the side of the couch, her breasts moving back and forth with his pounding. Her mind let her body go and she began to move with him, feeling her own muscles tense and release. The couch bounced against the floor as he fucked her mercilessly. Her cries combined with his pleasure moans to make a new sound—one that would echo in her ears long after this day was over.
With the leverage of his battering cock moving deep inside her, she felt as though he was going to split her in half and she would burst into flames. Consumed by his lust, her tension built to the inevitable boiling point. She heard the guttural growl in the back of Eddie’s throat and realized his own climax was at hand. Her body let go, pulling and jerking underneath him as he exploded inside her.
Her muscles spent, the waitress hung over the arm of the couch like a piece of boneless chicken. Allowed just a few moments to catch her breath, Bridget felt the sharp, eye-wincing pain as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and lifted her head to see his dripping cock before her mouth.
“Clean me up,” he ordered, realizing if she were Cami he wouldn’t have to give this instruction. The waitress opened her mouth and proceeded to lick and dry her employer, telling herself this would all be worth it in the end. Instead of putting his cock back in his slacks, he began undoing his belt, stripping himself completely. He folded the leather strap in two and walked behind her, his hand pushing down the small of her back as he readied her for the first hard smack.
“I thought we were finished, Sir,” she said fearfully.
“Finished?” Eddie laughed for the first time in the day. He thought of his losses—Maralee, Cami, possibly Dr. Sovich. He realized no matter how many strings he pulled, or how much success he accrued, he would always be an outsider to the little rich crowd. He would never be as adored as Tyler or accepted in the same circles. If he couldn’t be on the inside, then he would push them from the outside, push them with all he had.
Steadying the belt against the unfortunate waitress’s backside and pulling his arm up to its full height, Eddie chuckled again. “Girl, we’ve only just begun.”
***
Harold stood in front of Maralee’s door for what seemed like an eternity before he could get the courage to ring the bell. Suprisingly, it wasn’t Maralee but Cami who answered the door, catching them both off guard.
“Oh! Miss Hill, I’m sorry…I…”
“Mr. Jennings, um…come in…I guess…”
“I was looking for Miss Snow,” Harold tried to explain, the note in his hand weighing at least a ton.
“HOWARD!” Maralee called and ran forward, wrapping her arms around Harold and giving him a big hug. “How’s Steve? Do you need more punch?”
“Steve’s wonderful, Miss Snow. How kind of you to ask. We still have a few more bottles, but we will be coming back for more. I hate to say it, but your punch is more popular than any cocktail at The Wine Loft, even yours, Miss Hill.”
“That’s quite all right.” Cami nodded. She seemed to be the only one who realized something about this visit wasn’t right.
“Cam, can you get Howard
a glass of sweet tea? He’s shaking and I think his blood sugar might be dropping,” Maralee said pointedly, her eyes motioning Cami to the kitchen.
Happy to escape, Cami crossed behind Maralee’s back, leaning over just long enough to whisper in her ear. “His name is Harold.”
“Cami’s staying with me for a few days. She’s worried about Eddie,” Maralee explained as her friend veered into the kitchen.
“Not a bad idea,” Harold agreed, relieved to have the topic out in the open. “Regarding Mr. Dunning, he asked me to bring you this note. That’s the reason I’m here.”
Maralee took the paper, shaking it as if to suggest the bad energy from the note might infect her hand in some way. She read it carefully and placed it face-up on the coffee table where Cami could get a look at it when she brought Harold his tea. The three stood in silence, each hoping the other would know what to do. It was the small priestess who took charge once more.
“I should call Andrew,” Maralee said, the morbid tone of her voice unifying them all. “He will know what to do.”
Harold and Cami nodded agreement, the three of them locked in some sort of solemn trinity. Within an hour of her call, Dr. Sovich joined them, and the threesome became four.
Up the mountain, Bridget Carson huddled in the dark corner of Eddie’s office waiting for the crowd to leave The Spreader Bar so she could make her way home. Bruised from neck to ankle, naked and sore in every orifice, she didn’t want anyone to see her lurch, or possibly crawl, up the stairs. Eddie left an hour before, giving her one last kiss on her raw lips.
Holding her swollen face in his large, rough hands that seemed more like a dock worker’s than a pharmaceutical company executive’s, he said one last thing to make her horror complete. “Make sure to give Tristan an address where he can send your last check, honey. You’re fired. But don’t worry. I’ll add an extra hundred. You earned it.”
Sobbing, she finally slithered to Eddie’s desk, noticing the faint smell of burnt paper, and pulled herself up to the bar phone so she could dial one of the few numbers she knew by heart. Her aunt was the only person who would understand and who had the power to avenge. Thankfully, she answered on the second ring.